The Things They Didn't Bury

by Laekan Zea Kemp

  The sound flitted there at the edge of Liliana’s memory. When her mother laughed, she laughed with her whole body, completely uninhibited and unladylike. It was a beautiful and contagious sound. So contagious it could even infect Liliana’s shy and silent father. Liliana crossed her arms, remembering her mother’s warmth and her sweet smelling skin, inhaling the memory until it made her chest ache.

  “Hey, kid.”

  The voice startled her. Liliana closed her mother’s journal and looked up to see Diego’s father leaning on a shovel in front of her. She stood up, wiping the dirt off of her pants.

  “Hi, Mr….”

  “Vargas,” he finished for her.

  “Mr. Vargas.” Liliana reached out her hand. “I’m Liliana.”

  “I know. I’ve seen you runnin’ around with my boy Diego.”

  “Yes sir, he’s been showing me around the city.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. The only parts of the city he had actually shown her were the dangerous ones.

  Diego’s father looked down, allowing a few of the overhead branches to cast a shadow on his face. He had dark caramel skin, so dark it was almost red, with not one crease or blemish making him look ten years younger than he actually was. His eyes were just like Diego’s too—chameleons that absorbed the color of their surroundings, blinking a pale green, then yellow, before settling into dark honey shade.

  “Good. I’m glad he’s helping you.”

  “Me too,” Liliana said, trying to cut the uncomfortable silence.

  Diego’s father just swayed back and forth, leaning against the shovel. His lips were pursed in anticipation.

  “I knew a little of your mother,” he finally said, “Isabella.”

  “You did?”

  “I mostly just heard how much of a handful she was for your grandparents. I didn’t move on to the property until after she married your father but one of the workers who used to live here said he always used to see her, climbing out of her bedroom window at night and running off to God knows where.”

  Liliana was beginning to see that her mother was much more than the handful of memories she had of her and the more she was getting to know this new person, who her mother really was, the more it felt like she was losing her for the first time all over again.

  “I bet your father wishes those boards were still up. Just in case there’s more of your mother in you than he realized. Especially since that dance club La Rosa Negra where all us kids used to go to isn’t all that far from here.”

  “A dance club…”

  Liliana’s mind retreated to that dark corner of the club, to the two-seater booth where her mother used to sit, waiting for Ben.

  “Is it off the main road?” Liliana asked.

  Diego’s father nodded.

  “Follow it all the way downtown and you’ll see it.”

  “And you saw her there?”

  “A few times, her and that little one Trini. I had forgotten her name until Diego asked me about her the other day. Sorry I wasn’t able to help you find her.”

  “That’s ok.”

  Liliana tried to shrug off the disappointment. She slid her fingers beneath the cover of the journal and tucked some of the loose pages back into the spine.

  Her fingers lingered there on the familiar ribbing as she spoke. “Mr. Vargas, do you remember what happened to Trini’s stepfather?”

  “Her stepfather?” he repeated. “I think I saw it in the newspaper. He was run over by a car. He was dead when they found him.”

  “So that’s how he died? From the impact?”

  “Probably. That’s not what people were saying around town at the time but you know how people like to talk.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Said that wife of his finally got tired of his shit and done away with him.”

  “They said she killed him?”

  “Well, it just seemed a little suspicious that he would just pass out right there in the middle of the road. It was obvious he had been drinking; everyone knew he was a drunk, but…I don’t know. There’s no way that woman could have moved him that far. He was a big son of a bitch.”

  “Did the police ever question her?”

  “I’m not sure. But it was never ruled a homicide. The truck that hit him was speeding and the driver nearly cut him in half. It was pretty obvious what killed him if he hadn’t already been dead before he got there. But like I said, there was no way she could have moved him. It was all just a bunch of gossip.”

  Liliana glanced down at her fingers, pulsing and numb where she had been pressing them between the journal’s spine. They were right. Someone had dragged Trini’s stepfather out into the middle of that dirt road. But it hadn’t been Trini’s mother who had done it, it had been Liliana’s.

  She replayed her mother’s recollection, every terse line and cold word, wading through them as they swelled with reality. She had known he was dead, had read about Trini’s guilt, and yet Liliana would not allow herself to make that leap, to put his blood on her mother’s hands, on the mother she had only ever seen as a victim.

  But she couldn’t read her mother’s words as if they were fiction anymore like all of the other books she had ever read. These weren’t the remnants of someone else’s imagination that she was consuming but a life.

  And then, as if he could see the betrayal twisting behind Liliana’s eyes, Diego’s father said, “Your mother, she may have been a little wild. But she was a good person.”

  He pulled the shovel from the ground and then stood there a moment as if he had more to say. Liliana’s eyes pleaded with him to continue.

  “Diego,” he started, “he’s good too. I hope you will be a good friend to him.”

  His tone was serious and it took Liliana off guard.

  “Of course,” she said, unsure of what exactly he needed to hear from her, or what exactly he was trying to say to her.

  “There was something else,” he said. “I don’t know how much Diego has said…about me.” He stared at the ground. “It’s true. I have my demons and I know he’s the one who really…suffers. But I’m not a monster. I love my son.”

  ***

  He burned down General Calvo’s house, I said to Trini. I couldn’t stop thinking about that little girl. Her face so swollen with grief and tears and then Trini, almost smiling at the fact that Adrian wasn’t seeing someone else after all. I grabbed her shoulders and shook her until she started to wince. Listen to me, I said, he killed people.

  Then the tears finally started coming but even then I think it was just because I had hurt her, not because Adrian had murdered almost an entire family, left them to burn, and in the middle of daylight. What a goddamn idiot, I thought. But then she stopped, waves cutting the sand around her feet, and said, but so have we. Her words, mingled with a weary child-like cadence, startled me. But I didn’t show it. Instead I said, it’s different. It’s all I could say. And then I walked away, leaving her and her revelation sinking in the tide.

  This morning I could hear Papá doing something down in the basement. It was early so I brought him coffee and was surprised when I saw that he had cleared out the entire space. I could finally see the floor. What are you going to put down here, I asked him. Us, he said, there was an attack at the pink house, it’s starting. You really think we’ll have to hide down here, I asked, we’re so far from the city. I don’t know, but just to be safe I wanted to get it ready, he said.

  Adrian wasn’t in my first class again but my professor finally showed up. He came in late and he looked like he had been sweating. He was mumbling something to himself, like a list, and when he finally addressed the class he was practically whispering. He closed the door and pulled the shade down over the small window. You have to get rid of your books, he said. We stared at him in silence, confused. Burn them, he said. At that point we all began to fully absorb his terror. He told us the military was sending over a general to take over the University and
that they were going to get rid of all materials that could be considered subversive.

  This meant there would be no more Psychology, Sociology, Arts, Science, or Journalism programs. Any students belonging to any clubs having to do with those subjects could be taken in for questioning. Questioning for what, somebody asked. Our professor pulled a piece of cloth from his jacket pocket and started to wipe his face. Many of your fellow University students have apparently been working with the Montoneros and the ERP, he said, and the junta won’t stop until every single rebel has been arrested.

  He finally dismissed us and he said it would be for the last time. Our program had obviously been suspended and no one knew when it would be re-instated or if it ever would. He reminded us again to get rid of our books and anything else that may seem free-thinking or rebellious. Walking down the halls, everyone’s faces looked the same, drained and heavy. I walked outside and military vehicles were parked on the grass, in front of doorways, and lined against the street.

  I cut through the bushes instead of walking along the sidewalk and kept my head down. Someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me into a small alcove. Before I even had time to scream I realized it was Adrian. He had his hand over my mouth and was telling me to be quiet. I struggled and tried to pry his arms away from me. I unhinged my jaw and dug my teeth into his palm. He growled and cursed and finally let go. What the hell, he said, you knew it was me. I don’t care who you are, don’t ever put your hands on me again, I said. He held his hands up in surrender. Ok, ok, he said, I just need to talk to you. What, I snapped at him.

  I suddenly realized how dangerous it would be if I was found with him. If they found his stupid gold armband and me standing next to him, talking to him, it would all be over, it wouldn’t matter what I said. What the hell is wrong with you, I said, why are you wearing that thing out in public. He looked down. It’s a part of the initiation, he said, I’m in the walking target phase. What does that mean, I asked him. It meant that he had to wear the armband in plain sight to prove he was willing to defend the cause and the ERP no matter what.

  It was a part of the initiation process yes, but what Adrian didn’t know, what I heard on the bus just half an hour later, was that the ERP was using their recruits wearing armbands to draw out the enemy in an attempt to exterminate them in smaller numbers. And if a few recruits were killed every now and then…well that didn’t matter much to the ERP as long as they were making ground with the junta. Is that why you burned down General Calvo’s house, in the middle of the day, I spit at him. Hey, he snapped back, I’m not the enemy in all of this, I came to talk to you for a reason, to help you. Help me, what are you talking about, I said. One of my guys found out something I think you should know, he said. I started to inhale and I tried so hard not to, but I just started laughing at him. Your guys, I said. He grabbed my shoulders, the way I had grabbed Trini to try to shake some sense into her. Damn it Isabella, he said, this is real fucking shit. Ok, I said, I’m sorry, go ahead. For some sick reason the military is adding Jews to the list of people on their target list. I thought you would want to know, so you could tell Ben, he said.

  My mouth went dry and I started to get that stabbing pain in my throat like I do when I’m trying not to cry. I opened my mouth but nothing came out except for a tiny string of my hot breath, escaping like fog into the chill air. I’m sorry, he said. Why, I croaked. We have a few theories, he said, but none of them make any sense. I told him to tell me but he shook his head. Will you see him tonight, he asked. I nodded and he started to leave. Wait, I said. He turned on his heel and kept one eye on the soldiers patrolling the campus and the other on me. What, he whispered. I took a deep breath. I don’t give a shit what you do in your free time, who you kill, or how many houses you burn down, I said, but Trini is my sister and if anything happens to her and I find out it was because of you, I swear to God, I will fucking kill you, got it.

  When I got home from school Manuel and his brother Raul were there. Manuel had run into my father in town and when he’d mentioned that he was doing some work on the basement, getting it ready just in case, Manuel, looking for every possible opportunity to kiss my father’s ass, asked him if he needed any help. Raul was his usual pleasant self. As soon as I walked in I could feel his eyes on me and their sting still lingered even after I had gone up to my room and shut the door. I always feel guilty around Manuel.

  We were best friends all through grade school. We even tried dating once. At first it felt natural; it was innocent and good. But then one day I was walking home from school and I stopped by Trini’s house to visit her. She had been sick that day so I brought her homework to her and stayed for a little while to cure her boredom and to make sure her mother was taking proper care of her. She actually was for once, and she sent me home with a cup of soup to prove it.

  By the time I started walking home from Trini’s it was already dark. I heard a truck coming up the road. They drove passed me and I thought they were going to keep going but then they stopped not far ahead and just idled there. Someone was poking their head out of the window and calling for me. I couldn’t tell who it was at first, it was getting too dark but as I got closer I could see that it was Joe, one of Manuel and Raul’s friends. Hey Manuel asked me to come pick you up, he said. Another voice came from inside the cab. I recognized it as Raul’s. He told me Manuel had asked them to come by my house and see if I would come and see him.

  I looked down the road at the vineyard. The lights were all on at the house; it was still early so I decided to go with them. Ok, I said, but I can’t stay long. Manuel lives closer to town but his family owns a large stretch of land where they keep horses and cattle. The far edge of their property is only an hour’s walk from the vineyard. I could see that we were reaching the outskirts of the property and the house was lit up and glowing in the distance. The truck turned into an opening in the fence. We were headed for the barn and away from the house.

  Why are we going over here, I said. Joe glanced at Raul but he just stared straight ahead, not looking at Joe, not looking at either of us. I clutched tight to my bag. The truck pulled to a stop and both doors flew open. Raul walked to the barn and Joe grabbed my arm and pulled me outside. What the fuck, I said trying to steady my voice. Joe put his hand on the back of my head and led me inside the barn. It was dark but once my eyes adjusted I could see Raul leaning against one of the wooden beams.

  Raul what are you doing, I said, where’s Manuel. He stayed completely silent. Joe pushed me against the wall and started to run his hands down my arms and over my hips. He reached for the button on my jeans. His mouth was in the crook of my neck and I could smell the sweet tinge of alcohol on his breath. I started to scream and I managed to swing back my left foot and kick in Joe’s knee. He reached for it and I twisted my shoulders out of his grasp but his body still had me pinned to the wall so I screamed again and a second later Raul’s hand was over my mouth. Shut up you stupid bitch, he said. He pressed his mouth to my ear. Now, if you don’t cooperate, he said, I’m going to have to tell Manuel about what just happened; how Joe had his hands all over you, and you let him, you fucking slut. I bit into the thin skin between his thumb and pointer finger. My teeth broke through his flesh and he howled.

  I heard the sound of dried grass and twigs crackling underneath someone’s boots. A small light was shining far off in the distance on the other side of the door. Fuck, Joe said. I reached for my bag, and started to run for the door. Raul grabbed me and I started to scream again. The footsteps moved closer. I reached inside my bag and silently pulled the plastic lid off of the cup of soup. Steam rose and singed my fingertips. I took a step away from the door. Good girl, Raul said. He loosened his grip and I threw the steaming liquid into his face. His hands flew up, reaching for his scalded skin and I ran. I ran all the way to the edge of the property and then down the desolate dirt road back to the vineyard, cutting through trees, cleaved to the shadows.

  The next day after school Manuel walked up
to me and asked if we could talk in private. I followed him to an empty table and we sat down. Is something going on with you and Joe, he asked me. I gritted my teeth and I felt like I was going to vomit. Did you really just ask me that question, I said. I heard something, he said, look I have a right to know. He started to yell but then stopped himself. Did you see him, he said. I stayed silent. I couldn’t speak. I felt that if I opened my mouth I would be opening all of me—my memory, my shame, my anger. Something did happen, I finally said. Manuel slammed his fists down on the table and turned his face away from me. What, he spit. I stood up and he tried to grab my arm.

  The presence of his hand gripping my forearm turned everything black. I lost control and suddenly the palm of my hand was sliding across his face. The imprint of my fingers glowed red against his skin. You’re right, I said, something did happen. I looked him straight in the eye. Joe tried to force himself on me and you’re brother…your brother helped him do it. I walked away and he didn’t follow me. He just sat there.

  He never confronted Raul about what I had said. He just let it go and he let me go and I haven’t forgiven him for that. It’s obvious that he hasn’t forgiven himself either which is why he’s always hanging around; trying to remind me that he is good. But the truth is it will never matter how hard he tries. He chose Raul. He will always choose Raul. The brother who took the brunt of their father’s fury by default because of his age, the brother whose body was their buffer, their sacrificial lamb and the brother who wields those scars like a crown of thorns. Though when I look at him, at the way those rippling scars have changed his face and his hands, still rising from his skin with the same indignation he’s managed to sustain himself on, it’s not a hero I see but a monster.

  Chapter 18

  Diego

  He hadn’t noticed it in the soft red glow of the sunset as he was leading her into the truck, but inside, just inches away from her, he could see that Liliana’s eyes were swollen, tiny red freckles spreading out from them bridge of her nose and along her cheeks.