The Witch's Market

by Mingmei Yip

  While he was quite different from my Ivan, I did not like where romance with Alfredo would lead. I appreciated his European poise and aristocratic bearing, which were quite unlike Ivan’s aggressive American manner. But it seemed to me that Alfredo, no longer needing to be ambitious, was becoming melancholic in his later years. I felt I was too young to share someone else’s decline.

  Despite his world-weary demeanor, I sensed a relentlessness in Alfredo. Perhaps a long ago trauma had introduced some compassion into his nature. But I did not want to count on that. Ivan might learn compassion someday, but for now he was totally focused on his own success. I hoped to find a man who was capable, but kind, not a calculating, moneymaking machine.

  Ivan must have hurt a lot of people—colleagues, associates, partners, clients, even friends—on his way up. I never asked him about his business. Not only that I was not interested, but I feared I’d see a different Ivan, one even worse than I’d imagined. Was he completely ruthless, not hesitating to harm others if it would bring him an extra buck? I just did not want to be around that sort of thing.

  I thought of the famous Chinese saying, “The path to a general’s victory is paved with ten thousand skeletons.”

  Another one: “The winner of a battle stands amidst corpses begging at the Gate of Hell.”

  But now I was far away from it all, so I pushed thoughts of Ivan and my life in America out of my mind and glanced around at the other couples on the dance floor. In the dim light it was a sea of movement, limbs coming and going rhythmically like waves on the beach.

  I remembered the novelist Cheung Ailing’s famous line: “Dancing is but civilized wantonness.” Underneath all this beauty and glamour were greed and lust. Sex and money. It was pretty obvious that my host was expecting the former.

  His gentle voice rose next to my ear. “Eileen, what are you thinking about?”

  “I’m thinking how wonderful this room is and how beautiful your guests are. Do you hold parties like this often?”

  “Oh no. This is something special to welcome you.”

  “But, Alfredo, we hardly know each other!”

  “Don’t worry. I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time. I think God brought you to my castle for a reason.”

  I had nothing to say to this. I certainly didn’t come here to sleep with him. I did enjoy his company, but that was it. The music stopped and Alfredo took my hand and led me back toward the tables.

  Suddenly a woman’s harsh voice called out, “Señor Alfrenso, how are you doing?”

  My host looked shocked when his eyes landed on a late-fiftyish woman wearing elaborate makeup that was trying to hide the fact that she was past her peak. Her garish purple gown revealed even more of her breasts than mine did.

  “How did you get in here?” Alfredo asked with irritation in his voice.

  “Relax, Alfredo,” the woman said, “I’m as good as you at going in and out of places. . . .” She waved her red-nailed hand. “Please sit with me for a minute.” She cast me a curious glance. “Your exotic friend too.”

  Reluctantly, Alfredo pulled out a chair for me.

  After we sat, the woman turned to me. “I’m Sabrina Sanchez. Alfredo and I are old friends. Sometimes enemies, too, hahaha!” She then gestured to a young, bland-looking man next to her. “This is Diego, my new friend.”

  Sabrina turned to Alfredo. “When did you meet such a pretty young woman?”

  “This is Eileen Chen from America. She’s a professor of anthropology.”

  Our host looked proud when introducing me. But then he leaned toward Sabrina, not bothering to hide his anger, and simply said, “Now leave me alone.”

  Sabrina smiled, taking out an ivory holder into which she inserted a cigarette. Her young friend immediately lit it for her. She inhaled deeply, then breathed out smoke like strokes of agonized calligraphy.

  After her nicotine hit, she said, “Haven’t I done that for twenty years? We can chat and catch up on things.”

  My host patted my hand as if to reassure me that this woman would not be a problem. He turned to his apparently uninvited guest. “All right, Sabrina, what do you want to talk about?”

  Even though Sabrina was obviously intruding, I felt instant pity for her. She might be the same age as Alfredo, but in looks they were many years apart. There is a Chinese saying that states, “The setting sun is beautiful, but twilight is brief.” Sabrina was clearly in her twilight—try as she might to conceal it.

  Sabrina cast Alfredo a sexy smile. “Come on, Al, how about a dance for old time’s sake?”

  Before Alfredo could refuse, Sabrina stood up and took his arm. So as to not embarrass her, he had no choice but to be led to the dance floor. Diego eyed his partner stoically as she pressed her half-exposed, busty chest against Alfredo’s. Eyes fell on them as they began to move. Sabrina clung on to Alfredo as if he were a branch floating on turbulent waves.

  After watching the pair for a few moments, Diego turned to me, shaking his head. “My friend likes men.”

  I didn’t quite know how to respond, so I smiled. “How long have you been together?”

  “Not long. We met in a bar. Sabrina says she likes bars because she can get drunk and forget her sadness. She also says that a sad woman never plans, because it’s useless.”

  “Hmmm, so, do you . . . try to comfort her?”

  I immediately regretted asking such an insinuating question. What Sabrina and Diego did—especially behind doors—was really none of my, or anyone’s, business.

  “I believe she’s inconsolable. I guess something very bad happened to her.”

  “Did she tell you what?” Now my curiosity was piqued.

  He shook his head. “I’m just a passerby in her life, and I’m sure she’s had many like me. Maybe someday she’ll tell you about herself.”

  During the ensuing silence, I quietly sipped my champagne and watched Sabrina and Alfredo dancing among the other guests. There was some strange chemistry between the two. While Alfredo looked awkward and uncomfortable, Sabrina danced with abandon. She pressed her breasts against him, seemingly trying to both excite and annoy him. Alfredo was definitely annoyed, but seemed unable or unwilling to extricate himself from her grasp. He didn’t look very happy, but it was pretty obvious that he was excited also, even if it was against his will.

  Finally the music stopped and Sabrina dragged a reluctant Alfredo back to our table. As they sat down, Sabrina waved her many-ringed fingers.

  “Why don’t you two gentlemen go ask other ladies to dance? I’d like to talk to Eileen.”

  This was a strange request since I didn’t know her, even Alfredo, really. Maybe this bluntness was a Spanish trait.

  To my surprise, Alfredo went along, perhaps anxious to avoid a scene at his own party. I wasn’t sorry at this interruption because it seemed that Sabrina would be the person to finally tell me about my enigmatic host’s past.

  10

  Sabrina Sanchez

  After Alfredo and Diego left, Sabrina smiled at me insinuatingly. Under her heavy makeup I could see little red veins on her nose and cheeks. The skin of her upper breasts that she was so generously revealing was freckled from years in the sun.

  She smiled flirtatiously. “I love parties, but then I get bored quickly—isn’t that strange?”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “My whole life is a bore. My husband’s long gone. I’m getting old and I’ve been sleeping around too much for too long. Diego is my new conquest—the best I can do at this point in my life.”

  Before I could respond to her surprising outburst, she spoke again. “I picked him up in a bar. Half my age, but he’s willing to hang out with me. You know why?”

  I was pretty sure I knew what he was getting from her. But I was curious, so I shook my head.

  “Let me tell you. Men, especially someone like Diego who doesn’t have much going for him, think they can find paradise in an older, sexually experienced woman like me. You know, men’
s eyes will bleed when their nose smells free sex.”

  I was surprised by her frankness, but I realized that her several glasses of champagne might have something to do with it.

  “I’m a bad woman and I could never settle down with just one man,” she continued. “Believe it or not, I used to be so beautiful that heads would turn whenever I’d pass. Now I only want to have a little more fun before my time is up.”

  “You’re still beautiful, Sabrina.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie. I could only comment on her beauty, but not her time left. I thought she might attract better men if she did not come on so strong and left more of herself to their imagination.

  “You think so?”

  I nodded. Staring at her big, watery eyes, I felt I had to be reassuring to this troubled woman. But I thought to myself that she was more sexy than beautiful.

  “Thank you. I like you, Eileen, you’re very kind. Not many people are kind these days, especially women. I tell you, there’s no sisterhood, not in the past, now, or in the future. It’s always been every woman for herself, ha!”

  Her sisterhood remark led me to think of Empress Dowager Ci Xi, China’s notorious ruler in the late nineteenth century. The real empress, An, kept a note from the emperor allowing her to kill Ci Xi, should she become a threat. But Ci Xi was tender and supportive to the lonely empress.

  One day when she was sick, Ci Xi supposedly cut off her own flesh and put it in healing soup for Empress An. In gratitude, Empress An burned the note giving her the power to have Ci Xi killed. From that day on, Ci Xi was relentlessly cruel to the empress, who died of poisoning not long after.

  I didn’t think most women were evil like Ci Xi, but I did know that Sabrina was not the sort of woman who is appreciated by other women.

  “Eileen, I’d like you to be my friend, so tell me about yourself,” said Sabrina.

  I explained that I was a professor here to research witches but offered nothing about my personal life.

  “Impressive! A learned woman and a writer!” she said, then scribbled on a napkin and handed it to me. “I live a little south of this castle, not too far. Please come visit so we can talk more.”

  “I’ll try.” But I was not at all sure she was someone I would want as a friend.

  She cast me a pretend irritated look. “Please! For God’s sake, won’t you?”

  “All right, then, I will.”

  “And don’t wait too long!”

  “I’m not sure how much longer I will be here.”

  “Don’t ever lose a chance to make friends. Trust me, I’m an old woman speaking from experience. Be sure you’ll keep your promise—life is short and I don’t have much of it left.”

  “What about Diego?”

  “He’s just a pet. You know what I mean. I have a sad life.”

  I was starting to tire of her self-pity, but I was also curious to know more about the dead husband she’d just mentioned, and of course also her relationship with Alfredo. But I felt I should wait until she was ready to confide. It turned out that I did not have to wait long.

  “My husband killed himself, my only daughter died, and my only son disappeared.”

  Now I really was sorry for her—so many tragedies in one woman’s life.

  She gulped down more wine, sucked at her cigarette, then went on. “If you’re willing to come visit a lonely woman and keep her company over a glass of wine, then I’ll tell you the rest of my story.” She winked, adding, “And about Alfredo and me.”

  My ears perked up. But I feared I was neglecting my plan to gather material on witches and witchcraft. However, I was intrigued by the woman and did not see any reason to refuse her invitation to visit.

  “Don’t think about it too much, just come. Now my limbs feel itchy, so I need to find someone to dance with. Hopefully a stud, ha!”

  Sabrina stood up abruptly, and, after throwing me a lopsided smile, went to search for her next mark.

  Alfredo soon returned without Diego. His mood was much more subdued and I felt sorry that his party had been spoiled by this intruder. But his interest in me seemed to have grown during even this short absence. I knew I would disappoint him and tried to think of a way to let him down gently. All I could do was say that I was still jet-lagged and, while I’d enjoyed his lavish party, the music and champagne had given me a headache. I thanked him for lending me the gown and told him I needed to sleep.

  The next morning I awoke to Maria’s loud knocking.

  “Señorita Eileen, breakfast is ready. Please come with me. Señor Alfrenso is already waiting.”

  When we entered the kitchen, Alfredo was pouring juice and buttering toast. The coffee grinder made a pleasing sound as the smell of the exotic beans reached my nostrils. After Maria left, Alfredo gestured me to sit and shoveled scrambled eggs and sausage onto my plate.

  “I hope you enjoyed the party—sorry you were not feeling well and had to leave early. Do you feel okay now?”

  I nodded. “Just jet lag and being in a new place.”

  Sipping my coffee and munching my toast, I could not help wondering about Sabrina. I had no reason to believe she was one of the witches, yet I felt I was under her spell. She was not easy to like, yet I was curious to know more about her—her youth when she turned heads, her relationship with Alfredo, the tragedy with her husband and children.

  Since Alfredo’s interest in me was getting more apparent, I didn’t feel entirely comfortable staying with him any longer. I decided to speak up.

  “Alfredo, you’ve been very kind to me, but I fear I am imposing. Anyway, I need to work on my research.”

  My host looked disappointed as he put down his coffee. “Why are you in such a hurry? You know you’re most welcome to stay as long as you wish. This castle is at your disposal, not to mention that I greatly enjoy your company.”

  I smiled warmly. “I appreciate that, but I came here to write my book.” And not to have parties and befriend an older man, I thought to myself.

  “Why not stay here while you are writing your book? You know, there are many rooms we don’t use. You can pick any one you like and I’ll have Maria fix it up for you.”

  It was a good idea, especially because it would be free.

  “But, Alfredo . . .” I searched his eyes.

  “What are you afraid of? You know I’m a gentleman.”

  “But . . . we hardly know each other.”

  “I understand,” he said, and then, after thinking for a while, added, “Of course you must have someone back in the States, right?”

  “Yes and no.” I sighed. “I’m here for research. My personal life is back in California.”

  “Yes, of course, you’re a very smart and capable young lady. I’ve gotten very fond of you. How could I not?”

  He kept leading back to where I did not want to go. So as much to change the subject as anything else, I said, “I chatted a little with Sabrina. Can you tell me more about her?”

  My host didn’t look happy. “She’s an old acquaintance. I didn’t invite her; she crashed the party. The woman is nothing but trouble. My advice is stay away from her.”

  It was pretty obvious that he did not want to tell me anything about her. But I still tried to coax a little more from him.

  “Sabrina told me she has had a sad life. She said her husband killed himself and that she lost her son and daughter.”

  “She told you all this? Eileen, don’t believe a word coming from that woman’s mouth. She’s a witch anyway.”

  My ears perked up on hearing the word witch.

  “So what she told me isn’t true?”

  Alfredo’s expression turned serious. “Some things are better left alone.”

  “All right, Alfredo. You know, I really think I should go back to the hotel to work on my notes. There are too many distractions here. I also need to rest and explore other places. After that, I’ll come back for a visit. How’s that?”

  “Well, if you must leave, I know a small hotel nearb
y. They always have rooms available. I’ll have my driver, Adam, take you.”

  I was sure Alfredo still had hopes of something more from me, but a nearby cheap hotel seemed like the best answer, so I thanked him and went up to my room to pack.

  My new room at the hotel was small and threadbare, but it was clean and quiet. So much had happened in just a few days that I welcomed the chance to be left alone and clear my brain. As I lay on the sagging bed, I kept thinking of my recent encounters with Alfredo and his oddly named Heartbreak Castle, the dancing witches, the old sculptor, the pathetic Sabrina and Diego, her “pet.” I decided I would definitely pay Sabrina a visit, but not right away. I needed a break and also wanted to organize my notes and pictures. After that, I’d take it easy for a day or two.

  11

  Signs from the Cracked Earth

  The next day, after a quick shower, I went to the hotel lobby and asked the receptionist for directions to the nearest village market. I felt the need for fresh, wholesome food after drinking too much wine and eating too much meat at the castle. After a short walk I arrived at the market and strolled around, admiring the food and watching the other customers.

  I bought some grapes, strawberries, a bag of nuts, and freshly squeezed orange juice in a tall paper cup. Tables were clustered at the edge of the market under a tall tree. I sat down and ate while watching the people around me.

  As I was finishing, I noticed two young men walking in my direction. They looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place them right away. Soon they sat down at a table not too far from mine, ordered, and began to eat and drink with gusto as soon as their food arrived.

  When they noticed me staring, one of them leaned toward me and smiled. “Miss, how are you? Do you remember us? We met on the ferry to Tenerife Island, then at the café near the Witches’ Market. I’m Kyle and this is my younger brother, Ed.”