She kept telling herself, maybe someone can save me, and now that her mother had failed she turned to Lawrence Landry. Besides, she was jolted by her brief talk with the thin man. She needed at the very least some company, a sympathetic face.
He was in the lobby in a few minutes, asked her if she wanted to have a drink at the bar because it had opened and the restaurant was closing in turn. That’s the way the owner of La Sirena handled the shifts, he didn’t waste money on paying for extra servers when one could do the job.
The bar, which she’d only seen a couple of times before, was gloomy. Too much wood, too much furniture, and the décor was old, the golden wallpaper had been in fashion two decades before. The bartender looked bored as he did his crossword puzzle and the server seemed even more bored as he dropped a menu with a bent corner on their table.
She ordered a rum and coke, which was the only thing she knew how to order. She’d once chanced on a book about cocktails in Reynier’s house, each cocktail described, with a little picture. The book said every city guy and gal most know how to make a few basic cocktails if they expect to have a good time, but Viridiana was not a city girl, and she had not paid attention.
Sherry, that’s what the priest drank, and beer, that’s what everyone else had during the game of dominoes Sunday nights. The game of dominoes she was no longer invited to. An exile in her own land. Then again, they had never wanted her, did they?
He ordered a whiskey sour. She had no idea what that was.
“I hope I didn’t bother you,” she said. “I … I thought I’d stop by.”
“No, it’s fine. I was watching TV.”
“Anything good?”
“From Here to Eternity,” Lawrence said.
“I do mean it when I say I need you. ‘Cause I’m lonely. You think I’m lying, don’t you?” she said, repeating Donna Reed’s line.
She thought he wouldn’t get it, that he’d frown and be puzzled, like other people were often puzzled when a line stolen from a film made it into her mouth. Then she’d have to explain. But he nodded.
“Nobody ever lies about being lonely,” he said, replying with Clift’s line.
“Yeah.”
“You’re a film buff?”
“It’s Montgomery Clift,” Viridiana said. “My grandmother loved him. She was heartbroken when he died. We used to go over to the next town, where they have a movie theatre. They’d have the half price matinee certain days of the week and they’d show older movies. Clark Gable, Gary Cooper, Pedro Infante.”
“And Montgomery Clift.”
“Of course, Montgomery Clift,” she said.
“The old movie theater is still open?”
“Yes. But I don’t go that often now that she’s passed away.”
She had yet to take a sip of her drink. It sat upon a little napkin and she ran her finger around its rim.
“They have festivals and special screenings at the Cinematheque in Mexico City, over in Churubusco,” he said. “They show a ton of art films. You should go to a screening, some time.”
“Next time I refuel my invisible jet. Now, tell me the truth, have you only lived in Mexico City for a month or was that also a lie? Because I’m beginning to suspect you’re a regular at the Cinematheque.”
“Two years, on and off. I came to watch after the family’s business interests, after university.”
“Next I’ll learn you’re married with four kids.”
“No wife. One cat. You like cats?”
“Sharks and sea monkeys.”
“My kind of gal.”
She smiled and finally picked up her glass, drinking quick. He smiled too.
“It’s Friday,” he said. “I thought you’d be out with friends.”
“I forget what day of the week it is, over at that house. But time has no meaning in Baja California, anyway.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. It’s a feeling. Like you’re standing at the end of the world. It’s the desert, probably. It gives you funny thoughts when you look at it, makes you try and figure out what ‘forever’ means.”
“I should see more of it, although I can’t say I’m much of a nature buff.”
“The Cinematheque, then, and a few whiskeys for you,” she said, pointing at his drink.
“Yes,” he said. “A good dinner, that sort of thing.”
She finished the rum and coke, and the server quickly brought another one. Slow night, it was the two of them at the bar. The bartender asked the server to take a look at his crossword puzzle and they both bent their heads over the piece of paper.
She drank.
The insistent pain in her stomach, the bezoar which was nothing but a knot of fear, pained her for a second, as if her body anticipated Lawrence’s question.
“Why did you come to see me?” he asked. “It’s not that I mind the company, I’m just surprised. You haven’t been too thrilled to speak with me the last couple of times.”
She had told Gregory that she wasn’t going to be his shill, she had protested when Daisy talked about marks, but when Lawrence spoke, she realized conning him had been her plan all along. As much as she wanted to pretend she was going to reveal the truth about Ambrose’s death to someone, she wasn’t going to say a word. She was going to lie. Lawrence Landry wasn’t going to save her. Viridiana was going to save herself, she was going to save Gregory, too. She was going to get them out of Desengaño and away from those angry men who wanted money. She was going to vanquish the evil witch called Daisy and break the spell that she’d put over Gregory.
Viridiana wasn’t Little Red Riding Hood or Cinderella. Instead she would be the heroine freeing the prince from his enchantment. She’d make everything perfect.
Lawrence didn’t know anything useful and he didn’t have to know anything. Not if Viridiana played it right. He was a mark. That’s what Daisy had told her and maybe she wasn’t wrong. And Viridiana was in love, wasn’t she? That justified it.
All she needed was to improvise a little. All she needed was bravado.
“Daisy has been talking about you, she’s nervous. She’s wondering what you’re going to do next,” Viridiana said, pushing an ice cube with her finger around the glass.
“And what? She sent you here to find out?” Lawrence replied.
“She’s worried that you’ll leave her without a penny because you don’t like her, because you never did like her. You even talked Ambrose into changing his will.”
“You make it sound like I’ve cooked this whole thing up in order to screw her over. That’s nonsense.”
“Is it?”
He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. He looked put off. Viridiana thought that if Daisy had been there she would have tried to sweet talk the guy, butter him up, but Viridiana wasn’t going for that.
“I’m a fair man,” he said. “I’m not trying to cheat her out of anything.”
“But maybe you did talk him into changing the will.”
“He talked himself into that,” Lawrence muttered. “I agreed with him when we met in Mexico City.”
“She doesn’t like you, either,” Viridiana said.
“And you don’t like me, you’re thinking I’m an asshole that’s come to stir up trouble.”
“I think you’re sad. I’m sorry about your uncle. I am. But screwing her over isn’t going to bring him back to life.”
“What is it that you’re not telling me?”
“Huh?”
“Every time I meet you I think you’re going to tell me something and then you hold back.”
She felt a bit sick and a bit stupid. Possibly because she didn’t drink, possibly because of the non-existent bezoar, and quite likely because she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know how to even begin playing this game.
Daisy made it seem easy but this wasn’t quite going the way she wanted it to go.
Slowly he leaned back, he looked her o
ver carefully. He sighed but didn’t speak.
Half a dozen people walked in, laughing, happy, ready to begin their weekend. They sat around a circular table, loudly joking. She turned her head to look at them. It was a bunch of kids who’d gone to her high school, Manuel included. For a moment they hushed their voices, staring at her, before someone erupted in laughter. She saw their mouths moving, felt Manuel’s eyes on her.
Damn it. Of all the nights for this. Manuel’s crowd didn’t even like drinking at the bar. But what did Viridiana know? She hadn’t hung out with them in ages.
If God was good, they’d mind their own business. But God was not being good. Why should he be good to Viridiana? No, God wanted to teach her a lesson in fire and brimstone. And he’d sent Manuel over to do it. Her ex-boyfriend approached Viridiana’s table.
I deserve this, all of this, she thought.
“You’re too busy to go out but not too busy when it’s not me,” he said.
“Hello,” she replied. Which sounded stupid, but what else was there to say?
“It’s true, then,” Manuel said, looking at Lawrence and shaking his head. “I told Alejandro it wasn’t true, that you wouldn’t be sleeping around with a tourist. I damn near broke his jaw today, Viridiana. And here you are, with the fucking guy.”
Had he? That pleased her a bit—Alejandro needed to have several body parts mashed to a pulp—but she didn’t like the way Manuel was looking at her at all, and she knew a conversation with him would lead to endless recriminations, the rehashing of things she didn’t want to think about. Not now. She had other things to do, and Lawrence was looking at her in confusion while Manuel stared at her in anger and disgust.
His eyes reminded her of the gull which had been pecking the fish. Gasping, and dying, and flopping, that poor fish in the summer heat. It was dead by now. Dead and gone, to become nothing but bones on the rocks.
Fear and the taste of salt filled her mouth. The bezoar lodged in her throat.
“I should go,” Viridiana said.
She grabbed her hat, which she’d placed on an empty chair, and headed outside.
As she stood in the lobby she wondered if the man she’d seen before might still be hanging around reception. But a quick perusal showed no one was there. That would have been the cherry on the sundae.
“Are you okay?” Lawrence asked. He’d followed her out of the bar.
“It’s the folks in there… I know them,” she said. “They’re my friends. They were my friends.”
“What was that guy going on about?”
“Alejandro told people around town that we’re sleeping together. It’s his way to get revenge on me. People around here love to talk, they’re bored.”
Fuck, she detested this town. She saw her face reflected in one of the hotel’s mirrors and wanted to toss a rock at it. Instead, she pushed the front door open and stepped out into the night, which was warm and welcoming.
She coughed, bent down her head, pressed a palm against the hotel’s wall. She felt very sick.
“Are you okay?” Lawrence asked.
She looked up at him, hair in her face, blinking. “I’m in a lot of trouble,” she whispered. “You can’t guess the amount of trouble.”
She thought he would understand after that. That surely it was all tattooed on her face, that he would be able to discern the whole story: Daisy and Gregory’s aliases, Ambrose’s death, the men in the hotel. She thought he would straighten himself up and declare her guilty, right then and there.
She was sure of it. Which was fine. She wasn’t going to fight it anymore.
She vacillated between the twin poles of victory and defeat. Defeat looked like the easiest path right now.
“I get it,” he said, somberly.
Viridiana held her hat between her hands.
“I’ve been in Mexico for a while now, I get it. This is a small town… people are going to be more conservative. I didn’t realize you’d get in trouble for talking to me. This is what you’ve been trying to tell me, isn’t it?”
He didn’t get it at all. He missed the obvious. She thought to correct him for a second, to say, come on you fool, it’s not about that. She had been ready, a minute ago, to be dragged to the police station.
Now Viridiana straightened herself up and stared at him.
“I do feel bad. Is there someone I could talk to? Maybe that guy in there—”
“That’s my ex-boyfriend,” Viridiana said. “Talking to him is not going to help anyone.”
“I guess not. But you’re very upset.”
I can do this, she thought. He knows nothing.
“I’m being silly,” she brushed the hair away from her eyes. “You’re right, I was trying to tell you but I thought it would sound silly. Small town and… everything else you said.”
“Hey, look, maybe we can go somewhere else?” he asked. “Do you want me to take you somewhere else? We didn’t even eat anything.”
“You’re hungry?”
“I did want dinner.”
“There’s a tortería,” she said. “I can show you where it is. But you could go back in, you know. Order room service if you don’t want them staring at you. Maybe catch the end of your movie.”
“It’s probably ended by now.”
She’d left the bicycle by the hotel’s entrance, propped next to a streetlamp. She grabbed it and they walked at a brisk pace. When they reached the eatery she saw that on the small TV screen they were showing The Big Sleep. Lawrence was right. His movie had ended.
The tortero didn’t care who they were and there were no kids to laugh at them, no ex-boyfriend to stalk their table. Just a plastic table in a corner with two makeshift salt shakers and the tortas with two Cokes. Milanesa for her, ahogada for him. He could handle the chile de árbol, which she found amusing.
“What? You think I only eat cheese and crackers?”
“I don’t know. I saw a picture of a ‘Mexican’ TV dinner in an American magazine and it looked terrifying. And a picture of aspic.”
“I’ve had aspic,” he said.
“It’s disturbing.”
“Come on, you don’t want to try a slice of tomato aspic?”
“It even sounds wrong.”
“The next fourth of July party at the American embassy, I’m taking you to have red, white and blue aspic there.”
“No.”
“Yes. Ring me up when you’re in Mexico City, I’ll take you out.”
The tortero had strung a set of Christmas lights in the small eatery. They blinked on and off, like a poor man’s neon sign. Viridiana grabbed a toothpick and rolled it between her thumb and her middle finger.
“Sure, I’ll look you up in the phone book,” she said.
“I mean it.”
Lawrence smiled.
He is not immune to your charms. That’s what Daisy had said. Viridiana hadn’t seen it before, but she could see it now, in the narrow space of the tortería, with Humphrey Bogart dubbed into Spanish speaking in the background.
She wondered what his life was like in Mexico City and she thought he was lonely. It was easy to spot, like a shabby suit. He wore the loneliness all around him. He didn’t get along with the other expats, but he also didn’t mesh with the locals. But he hadn’t meshed back home, either.
“When do you leave?” she asked. “Do you know?”
“Soon,” he said.
“I bet you can’t wait to get back to the city.”
Just as she thought, he shrugged, and in that tiny gesture she saw many evenings spent watching the exact same movie they were showing right now. She saw him lying on the couch in his tedium.
She did the same. She could recognize dissatisfaction and also the eagerness in his face, which he tried to disguise, turning his head towards the TV.
It was the same eagerness she had around Gregory.
Okay. She still didn’t know how she was supposed to convince Lawr
ence Landry to give them the money, but now she was sure she could. Nothing too direct, nothing too obvious.
Viridiana dropped the toothpick on her plate and tilted her chair back.
“If you drop by tomorrow, I’ll show you the lighthouse,” she offered.
Chapter 20
Lawrence stopped by the next day. He looked like he hadn’t slept, stubble on his cheeks. There was something sadder about him every time she saw him.
They went to the office. He shuffled a few papers, looked at a few things, but he gave up on all that shortly after noon.
“Where’s that lighthouse?” he asked her.
It wasn’t much of a lighthouse anymore. They’d stopped using it more than ten years before and the youths in the area had taken advantage of this to decorate it with crude drawings of penises, they spray-painted slurs and wrote nonsensical rhymes.
The lighthouse was square-shaped and at its top there still sat the Fresnel lens which had been used to light the way. It was always windy near it. Her grandmother used to say a strong wind could blow ghosts onto land. When she told Lawrence that, he asked her what types of ghosts she thought might walk around there.
“People from wreckages drifting up from the bottom of the sea,” she said. “Sailors, fishermen, suicides who threw themselves off a cliff.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“That’s good,” she said.
“How old is this?”
Viridiana looked up at the lighthouse. “It was built in 1892. There was an earthquake in Laguna Salada that year, they felt it all the way to San Diego. The land is not still here.”
She pulled a rusted door open. It was never locked. “Would you like to go up?” she asked.
He did. When she chanced to bring tourists here, she didn’t take them up, but she made an exception for him because he was truly paying attention to what she was saying. People were normally too busy taking photographs or chatting amongst themselves to listen.
Untamed Shore Page 21