I put the key in the lock on the inside and turned it twice. It was a reinforced door with one of those security locks. I left the key there in case a thief tried to force it with a piece of wire or some such. I went back upstairs to find out what came next. Mulenc, muler, and was soon asleep.
I woke up and went back to sleep because it was a complete nightmare. Someone was dragging me by the hair, which had been all dishevelled on my pillow, and was now pulling me down the stairs. Ow, that hurts, I said, and I could only hear mother saying leave her, you’ll pull her hair out, ow, ow, can’t you see you’re hurting me? I don’t remember if I was still asleep when he asked me who’d locked the door, and I’d sat on my bed with that expression you get when you’re woken up and don’t know if you’re asleep or not. I still couldn’t work out what he was asking me, mother says I said ah, so you’ve come back, and he got even angrier. Did you lock the door or didn’t you, he repeated, and I stared at him bewildered, because I couldn’t decipher such quick-fire words in my drowsy state. Did you or didn’t you? And I stared at mother and, and mother said let her be, can’t you see she’s still asleep?
Did you or didn’t you? I’ll teach you, and he dragged me downstairs by the hair again and I said, ow, that hurts. Mother says he hit me on the head repeatedly by the front door, look, look, the key’s in the lock, how did you expect me to get in? How? Then he dragged me into the kitchen, pointed at the window and said look what I had to do, break the glass in the middle of the night on our first day here, what do you think the neighbours will think? I don’t know, I don’t know. Can I go to sleep, please, can I go to sleep? Please? I don’t know how long it all lasted, I don’t remember every detail, and there are things only mother remembers.
I went upstairs and he was on the second floor landing. I shut my eyes, thinking how stupid of me to leave the key there and go to sleep, how silly. Mother was coming up the stairs behind me and he must have gone into their bedroom, spun round in a fit that was no doubt alcoholic and grabbed my hair from the top. I thought he was going to pull it all out, but it’s obviously got very strong roots. I was hanging by my hair while he hit my shoulders and mother ran under me so the weight of my body wasn’t pulling me down. Leave the girl alone, leave her alone, you’ll kill her, you’ll kill her.
He let me go. He let me drop down and down and mother and I hit the floor, after tumbling over twice as we rolled down the stairs. I was lucky she acted as a cushion, but she really hurt herself.
The day after mother says I went to tell her I didn’t want to go to school, I didn’t know why, but I had the most terrible headache. And she said: don’t you know why? No. Don’t you remember what happened yesterday? Yesterday when? And for a few days I couldn’t remember any of all that had happened, only that my head ached and I had a lot of bruises that hurt when I combed my hair. Father said, did you see what you did to mother? Nabab, a title of an administrator in India, or heavens knows where. Nabateu is an ancient Semitic village. Nabí, prophet.
16
A truce
Sometimes death makes you think about life, and father had one of his flashes of lucidity that first summer in our very own Mango Street. He received the news via his uncle, whom he saw a lot and whom I never really liked because he was on the slimy side. Whenever I thought of him images of slugs, snails or worms came to mind. He was now bald and was always telling stories about when father was a kid. Do you know he thought he could fly and threw himself off the terrace of your house? He was lucky to land on the prickly pear and not straight on the ground. Your father’s done some really crazy things.
Mother said he was the one who’d been winding up against her on many a night when he’d come in drunk and hit her even though she was half asleep. Or worse still, the nights when he’d not hit her, when he just talked and talked, you’re a worthless woman, you’re a disgrace to your family, your family will never look you in the face again. Things like that, an endless litany, and mother kept her silence because she knew that in that state a single reply would have only sparked more anger. If I was there she’d say be quiet, don’t say anything and let him talk, and half-closed her eyes as if to underline he could rant as much as he wanted to, you’re a whore, aren’t you? Say that: I am a whore and worth nothing. My mother repeated yes, I am a whore, but didn’t look at him as if she meant it, she looked at him as if she wanted to go to sleep at any minute.
Then came the news of the sudden death of one of our aunts, the one who most loved father, the one who had apparently always helped him. She’d died, they said, because she was so upset at not seeing her little brother and had no hope she’d see him again. Her liver made her ill the way it does when your eyes turn yellow and you feel exhausted, it spreads everywhere and there’s no point running to a hospital.
Father said I’m going and we were surprised he started speaking again about the province where he’d been born, the city and village and his family. He made no mention of the would-be treacherous brother but said he’d travel by himself.
A month. He said he’d be away for a month and arranged everything so we had everything we needed. If you have to go out of the house, don’t worry about waiting for me.
We said goodbye to a father laden with suitcases, his uncle was driving him to Barcelona. As soon as he’d left I couldn’t think what to feel. Relief. Hey, it’s so quiet, a month of peace and quiet. And sad, because I’d miss him all the same.
Things could have changed a lot that month, but didn’t. Mother carried on as normal, except she didn’t have to pick his dirty socks up off the floor, didn’t have to get his clothes ready when he was having a wash in the shower, didn’t have to guess the exact moment to have his coffee ready, and the right degree of hotness for him to be able to drink it and go to work. And she slept, of course, it may have been the month when she slept most.
He rang now and then to say that he was missing us and was negotiating with the grandparents, that they’d had a very rough time. Well, what were you expecting? You should see grandmother, she’s not what she used to be.
Nor were we what we once were, because years had gone by.
I’d say to mother, come on, let’s go to the market, now he’s not here, or go to the shop that sells rolls of cloth and choose for yourself the material you want to make your dresses from, let’s go for a walk or go and see one of your friends. And she’d say no, he’s not here but he knows almost everything. It was then I began to understand how much she’d been tamed and how that bond was perhaps hers for a lifetime.
We got a call one day and I picked up the receiver. Hello, recognise me? Hello father, I said, are you coming home soon? No, I’m not your father, and I said it’s not possible, your voice sounds the same as his. So who are you? I’m your uncle, have you forgotten me, we’ve not spoken for such a long time… It was incredible to think their voices could be so similar, but the call was very long distance and anything was possible. Listen, I want to speak to your mother. Mother, here, and she picked up the phone and I saw her face blanche. He said he was sorry for what he’d done, please would she forgive him, without her forgiveness he’d no desire to live and neither God nor the village would let him continue to lead prayers in the mosque or teach religion in the school. You know it’s not important, it was a trivial incident. If you don’t forgive me, if you don’t talk to my parents, they’ll throw me out of the family forever. Your husband has demanded they do so and they’re thinking it over now. I’ve not been home for days, and you know my sister’s death hurts me as much it does them.
Mother simply answered go away and leave us in peace, I don’t want to speak to you. You’re forgiven, but this call could make my life difficult, go on, clear off and let me be, I’m tired of all this business. And she hung up on him. Nobody else remembered that call.
Father returned much changed, and not just darker-skinned and thinner. He showed us photos of himself in a djellaba next to his sister’s tomb, even wore a Palestinian headscarf though it made
no sense, showed us photos of our grandparents, aunts, talked to us about those who’d been born and died and told us he’d made peace with all the family. Everyone except for that criminal who’s been punished, who was to be forced to live a long way from all those he loved.
Next year we’ll all go down and see the family again.
The curse, the expulsion from paradise, had ended but it was already too late, because that same summer my blood flowed. O, the letter o. O, conjunction. Oasi, which is that thing you might find in a desert.
17
Nocilla, Super Mario and sex
I used to play with my friends in a garage that belonged to one of them. Mother always said I should be doing this or that and I’d already noticed that girls of my age didn’t know how to handle a broom and showed little interest in learning how to. I did a deal, without saying as much, but did a deal with mother. I prepared lunch and had the afternoon free. Every morning I had to sweep and mop the first floor, the dining room, kitchen and second bathroom. When I’d finished we’d go for a bike ride around the barri, the same ride around the same streets time and again. Laia liked a boy who spoke to her as if he were telling jokes all the time, and if she said let’s go this way, you bet he’d be there. We’d go round and round until he turned up and then they’d say ei to each other. That was it. They never did anything, just said ei, what’s happened to your head? You electrocuted yourself today or what? Because his hair was very curly and he wore it longish, and he’d say, look, you’re silly, girl. And you’re an idiot, boy, look at yourself. Big arse. Titchy prick. End of conversation, but the day after we’d ride through the park in front of his house as often as it took.
It got too hot to ride our bikes in the afternoon and, if she and Marta didn’t go to the swimming pool, we shut ourselves up in the garage. Then we played that game they’d invented long before I arrived on the scene. I didn’t know if that stuff went against what mother had taught me, against religion or against all I’d stood for up to then, but I didn’t want to feel different from them. If they played, I would too.
Laia looked for a mat and placed it to one side. Now you act like a man, she said, and I had to stretch out face up. You can only touch with your hands when we say so, and can only do what the other girl wants. We can’t take our clothes off, that’s forbidden, and it was all like a game someone else had invented long ago, like Trivial Pursuit or Monopoly. Now you, Marta, said Laia, and she gradually lay down on me, moulding her body to the bones of my pelvis, and my ribs. I felt her soft weight on top of me and it was very nice. Her sex next to mine was velvety and warm through her clothes. We breathed, held our breath, and I’d never have thought one body on another could be so pleasurable.
Then she said it’s my turn now, and Laia was even more sensitive. She knew how to lower her weight on to me very gradually and said when I tell you, run your hands round my back. Her breasts were small, mine had been growing and growing non-stop for some time and our nipples met through our T-shirts full of smiling faces. Toi contento, toi triste. I preferred her because she was so perfect. She said now, and I ran my fingers over her back, down her thighs and finally her bottom. Very lightly. Press a bit harder, that’s right, towards you, and I didn’t know if it was still a game or what, but every day I longed for those moments of our afternoons.
Then we’d stretch out and each would put a hand on the sex of the girl next to her, except that at that stage of the game you could do it inside her knickers. Until we’d had enough and said the key word, the word that told the other girl she couldn’t go further down that path. Afterwards, we’d go up to her house and eat bread and Nocilla and play Super Mario.
I’d forgotten mother wouldn’t let me sleep face down, that’s what whores do, she’d say turn on your side, that’s the best position if you want to sleep decently. She’d been telling me that for so long I didn’t know what decent meant. I would sleep face down now and then when everyone was asleep, and I had an orgasm remembering Laia’s body on me and her pert breasts that were so round touching mine.
I’d had my monthly bleeding for some time now. I showed mother my knickers and she said well, there you are, half happy, half not. And she made me buy the sanitary towels she used, the extra large night-time sort, as they were the only ones that suited her. I didn’t want to walk round with that big fat thing between my legs and didn’t know how to deal with the slaughter house smell coming from my groin. I imagined the fallout from all this would take time, but it didn’t.
Father changed his attitude towards me, I don’t know whether mother told him or not but he changed. He started to take note of what mother always said, a girl should stay at home and not roam the streets with her father in the early hours. He’d say no, don’t come to Jaume’s house, only men live there. He said no, don’t come to the site, there are lots of brickies. I was being banned from that space he’d shared with me from the time we’d arrived there, even if it wasn’t the most suitable for a young girl. But it was the only one. He took my brothers with him instead and told me no, you stay put.
But one particular day I guessed everything had changed and what was coming could only get more and more ridiculous.
One of his workers had rung our doorbell while he was still in the shower. I looked out of the window, as I always did, and said no, he can’t come down yet, you can wait if you like. He smiled at me and I hadn’t seen father watching from the bathroom window, on the floor above, with his toothbrush between his teeth, and how he was peering out to see who it was. And the bricky smiled at me again, a moment before he saw father, and said if you like I’ll leave the tools with you, come down and get them and take them inside.
Father must have seen what it took me years to detect. Maybe he saw the glint of desire in the eyes of his employee, and his own desire for all the women in the world displayed in the way the man had glanced at me. What scared him was seeing me reflected in him.
He came downstairs half naked and simply said: From now on I don’t want you speaking to any men. Let your brothers open the door if nobody else is in. What on earth do you mean, father? And the moment he looked at me I realised he was deadly serious. Any men, right? And if it’s a Moor, even less so, because I know what they’re like. Pa, the definition of which would take a whole page. Paborde, an ecclesiastical title. Pabordesa, the superior of a religious fraternity.
18
Próxim Supermarkets, the quick buy
I don’t know if I liked that boy who whispered in my ear or not, but he had such an allure and was always standing in the entrance to the block of apartments where I went to buy bread. He was a Jordi like so many, rather light-skinned. Fairish hair. He took a long time to whisper in my ear and I still don’t know why he did.
Laia said: It looks as if Arumí likes you. He gives you such a look whenever we walk past him. I was quite sure nobody could like me, particularly anyone who’s a real local. I held to a view that explained the world to me despite its apparent lack of logic: Moorish men like all women, especially the Moorish kind. On the other hand, men here could never like Moorish women. It went against nature. If not, how could you understand father hiding his wife from all gazes that weren’t Christian? He used to say nobody here will gaze at you like that if he knows you’re married, or if he is.
There were other reasons to think nobody could like me: 1) I’d never had a little boyfriend in my class, as most of my classmates had at that age. 2) When we played at lucky bunny, bing, bang, bong, nobody ever kissed me, although I preferred not to be chosen than have to decide who to kiss. 3) Mother always made me a very long plait that looked as if it was part of my body, with my hair done up behind, I wore glasses and had shot up so quickly I seemed like a giant next to my school mates, the mother of them all.
I don’t know whether Arumí noticed these kinds of things, but summer was back and when he walked by he’d said to Laia, why won’t you introduce me to that pretty friend of yours? I said, you being funny or what? No, no I mean
it, but I was never quite sure because he said that with his usual grin.
I told mother I needed clothes, what I had was too small and I bought myself a denim jacket and jeans. I asked her to cut my fringe and she said but it’s not aixura yet, why do you want me to cut your hair? I don’t know what happened, she thought for a minute and then did me a very straight fringe, and the wet hair framed my eyes. Until it dried, and then each curl fell down its respective side and I looked like a sunflower.
I spent the whole afternoon in front of the mirror, combing and re-combing my hair, putting scent on, never overdoing it, I burst the spots I really loathed, straightened my glasses and asked mother, do you want me to go and buy some bread? Or: I think you need some peas for dinner, don’t you? Do you want me to fetch some? If Soumisha’s coming tomorrow, we should buy some biscuits, shouldn’t we? And even now I don’t know if she was pretending or didn’t realise what was going on.
Then I’d walk until his doorway came into view and if he wasn’t there I thought shit, all that preparation for nothing, and if he was there I thought shit, shit, shit, what now? Whenever I walked past him my heart raced so quickly I was sure he could hear.
It was better when he was by himself, waiting for his friends, because then he’d say something like, well, how’s life treating you? You know I know your brother? Those clothes look really good on you. If he was with the others he’d only say see you, and some days even pretended not to see me.
When he was coming out of the swimming pool with one of his friends he’d stare at me so hard I was afraid it was true he liked me. I could already imagine the cataclysm in the family, the girl’s run off with a Christian who’s an Arumí into the bargain, what a tragedy, mother would never recover, father would look for me everywhere, brandishing his knife and saying I’ll kill the pair of them and then take my own life.
The Last Patriarch Page 18