The Sisters of Alameda Street

by Lorena Hughes

  “Here mi amor, but please hurry up. Papi will get mad at me if we’re not home soon.”

  After Javier grabbed the pear, Ana seized the paper. It was a typed letter.

  Ana, she read, I’ve lost count of how many letters I’ve written you, but this is the first one you’ll ever see. Perhaps the only one.

  She stood up, confused, and continued to read:

  I’ve tried to ignore my feelings for I know you’re a taken woman, taken by a man who doesn’t deserve you, but it’s useless. The more I try, the harder it is not to think of you. I’m only sorry that I must now burden you with this truth, but I think it’s only fair that you know there’s someone longing for you, someone who hasn’t been able to take you out of his mind since the day he met you; the happiest and the saddest day of his life.

  I know I’m wrong. I’ve often wondered about this fascination of mine with a married woman, and I only come to the same conclusion. There is no one in this town, in this entire world, as kind and generous as you.

  I’ve seen the way you tend to your child and I’m mesmerized by your tenderness. I watch you often, though you never notice me. Please don’t be afraid, I would never do anything to harm you or your reputation. I’ve resigned myself to watch you from a distance.

  Today, I finally gathered the courage to finish this letter and send it to you. I don’t expect anything in return, just that you know that someone loves you.

  Ana read the letter again, quickly, skipping words, her eyes flowing back and forth from beginning to end. An anonymous love letter. For her? It must be a mistake. This sort of thing never happened to her. She slid the note into her sleeve and grabbed her son’s hand.

  The walk home went by smoothly. Neither the heat, nor the whining, nor the heavy basket could keep her mind off the note. Someone loved her. A man. An admirer. She was the kindest woman he’d ever seen. Ana, he’d written, not any of her sisters’ names. There was no mistake. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see the man who followed her every day to the market, the man who loved her from a distance.

  The sidewalk was empty.

  Rafael had arrived home early and scolded her for being late. But Ana didn’t care. She only had two concerns: to hide the note and to find out who her admirer was. Unless it was a joke. Or maybe Rafael was testing her fidelity. No, he was too unimaginative to think of a scheme like this, or to worry about her at all. Rafael’s only thoughts pertained to his work and his resentment toward Papá Pancho for hiring that new accountant, Enrique Hidalgo, three months ago instead of giving Rafael the position.

  “And don’t even get me started on your cousin,” Rafael said, chewing on a piece of guatita. “He was late again today, but of course, your father didn’t say anything about it or the fact that Fausto still reeked of alcohol when he walked in.” His knife sliced through a potato. “I can’t wait to find another job and get the hell out of that store!”

  The next morning, Ana made an excuse to go back to the market. This time, she wore her nicest outfit: a two-piece tailored brown suit with matching shoes, gloves, and a hat with a long feather; she even wore makeup. Her fancy shoes were unsuitable for the market, but they perfectly matched her attire.

  Ana deliberately left her basket on the floor and walked a couple of steps away, pretending to be looking for corvina fillets. A child of about ten years of age walked by her basket and dropped a piece of paper inside. She prayed the boy was not her admirer.

  Ana paid for the fish and rushed after the boy.

  “Wait!” She caught up with him.

  “Please don’t hurt me, Señora.”

  “Who gave you that letter?”

  “I don’t know who he is.”

  “Where is he?”

  The boy shrugged.

  Ana looked around; this was her only chance. “Tell him I want to meet him.”

  The boy ran away. She watched after him, unable to suppress a smile. She’d surprised herself with her request, but she didn’t regret it.

  The second letter was a short poem. Ana read it until she had memorized every word. After that, her trips to the market were never the same. She couldn’t concentrate anymore; she often returned home with half the things she needed. She found ridiculous excuses to go back during the week, only to scan every man around her. She was self-conscious the entire time, certain that he was watching her from a window or an automobile.

  Until the day her torment finally ended.

  The little boy showed up by the fruit stand and handed her a third note. Not a word was spoken. She waited until she got home to read the note. It was the shortest one. It only had a day, a time, and a place. A date with her admirer. She would finally see him.

  On the afternoon of her rendezvous, it rained all day. Ana rushed past the jewelry store, covering her face with her navy umbrella so Rafael wouldn’t see her from the window. She had dropped off Javier at her mother’s house and was on her way to the other side of town, where the man who loved her waited for her in a little-known café. She hated to worry her mother and tell her lies, but she couldn’t come up with a better excuse than a doctor’s appointment.

  Ana arrived five minutes early. The place was crowded—the perfect way to go unnoticed. She sat in the back of the room and ordered a cup of coffee without removing her gloves. She would only be here for a few minutes, however long it took to finish her coffee. Not another minute. It would be a quick meeting, quick enough to remain inconspicuous. She took a first sip of coffee but it was still too hot to drink, which she was grateful for—it gave her more time.

  She watched the people around her, afraid to be recognized, afraid to see any familiar faces in the crowd. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Why should she be ashamed? There was nothing wrong with what she was doing, unless it was a sin to have a coffee by yourself in a public place. She sat up straight, reassuring herself that everything would be fine.

  But her conviction didn’t last long. It died the minute she saw Amanda’s brother-in-law at a nearby table with some friends. Oh, no. What if he saw her? What if he told Nicolas or Amanda? Ana couldn’t live with her sister’s reproach if she found out about her little escapade. She covered her face with the menu and told herself he probably hadn’t seen her, or else he would have come to greet her. Good thing he was so engrossed in conversation; she could hear his voice loud and clear.

  Oh, God, what was she doing here? She only hoped He would forgive her. He had to. The Lord only knew how much she had suffered with Rafael’s treatment. But this was still wrong, a little voice in her head reminded her. This was a mistake and she’d better leave before this so-called admirer arrived, before it was too late and she had something to regret.

  “What are you doing here?” a male voice said in front of her.

  She would have recognized his voice anywhere. Her legs trembled under the table and her voice was lost somewhere in the depths of her throat, unwilling to come out. Ana lowered the menu.

  He glared at her with contempt, hatred even, his eyes sparkled like never before, and for a minute Ana was afraid that Rafael would slap her in front of everyone.

  Chapter 18

  Her mind was playing tricks on her. Yes, that had to be it. The figure standing by the window had been nothing but a figment of Malena’s imagination. Otherwise someone would have said something to her this morning. Not that she had given the person a chance. She had avoided all eyes during breakfast, and eagerly agreed to accompany Amanda to the Madreselva again.

  “You look tired,” Amanda said as they entered the nightclub. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  Malena nodded, though she couldn’t remember what a restful night felt like anymore. She’d been thinking about her father all night. About this fake name he used. Which was his real name, Enrique or Hugo? Now more than ever, she needed to stay in San Isidro and find out what was behind all of this.

  With Amanda’s help, Malena rolled the faded Venetian rug off the floor. It had been Nicolas’s
pride and joy, Amanda told her. A distant cousin had brought it from Italy amid perilous adventures that he related often and that had the strange quality of becoming more impressive with each telling.

  Malena was grateful for the distractions around her: the employees coming in and out of the parlor, the moving of tables and chairs, the piling of trash in the corner of the room. Focusing on simple tasks gave her mind a rest.

  A few meters away, one of the new waiters held a ladder for Bernardo while he removed the old curtains. The drapes carried with them dust from the last twenty years, enough for all of them to cough for a full minute.

  A slim middle-aged man in a striped gray suit and tilted hat walked into the restaurant. Behind him entered a tall brunette in a tight blue dress.

  “Excuse me?” the man said to no one in particular. “I read in El Heraldo that you’re having auditions for tango dancers.”

  Amanda stood up and brushed the dust from her hands.

  “Yes, I’m Amanda Platas, the owner.” She pointed at Malena and Bernardo. “These are my associates, Liliana Paz and Bernardo Meneses.”

  Bernardo cleared his throat. “Bernard.”

  The man removed his hat, revealing a thinning crown and long sideburns. “My name is Leonardo Montes. I’ve been a dance instructor for thirteen years.” He rested his hand on the small of the woman’s back. “This is my wife, Rebecca. She’s also a dancer.” Not once did he look at her. She stiffened from his touch.

  Amanda walked to the record player. “Well, let’s see what you can do.”

  Rebecca and Leonardo danced to “La Cumparsita” with a grace and skill Malena had only seen in movie stars with names she couldn’t pronounce. Their feet moved effortlessly across the floor, Rebecca’s skirt twirling around her statuesque legs. Her back was perfectly straight and her neck long and smooth.

  Malena sat on the nearest chair to absorb the sensual scene she was witnessing. How she wished she could move like that! But she would probably trip and fall if she ever attempted those turns. She’d never tangoed with anyone but her father, and that had been years ago, when she was still a child. Now, the idea of a man holding her that close was unthinkable. Rebecca and Leonardo’s hips were practically locked together, and his leg fit perfectly in between Rebecca’s.

  Bernardo applauded as soon as the song was over.

  “Thank you, Señor Montes,” Amanda said from her seat. “Please write your personal information on that piece of paper.” She pointed at a notepad on a nearby table. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I make my decision.”

  Leonardo lifted an eyebrow with arrogance. “As you please.”

  Stiffly, he walked to the table and filled out the paper. Rebecca stood behind him, all the confidence from the dance gone. They left without saying goodbye and bickered by the front door.

  Amanda turned to Bernardo and Malena.

  “What do you think?”

  They both agreed they were splendid.

  “He’s a little short, but he can definitely dance.” Amanda rubbed her chin with her index finger. “The woman is much too tall for him.”

  “Try to find a tall male dancer in this town.” Bernardo stacked old chairs into a pile. “The only tall ones are the Rivas. Only Monsieur Sebastian, really, now that his père is gone.”

  Something in Malena’s stomach fluttered at the mention of Sebastian’s name.

  “And from what I’ve heard,” Bernardo continued, “he can also dance.”

  “He can?” Amanda crossed her legs. “Claudia never mentioned it. Not that she would.” She paused for a moment. “Now that I think about it, Sebastian took a trip to Argentina a few years ago. Maybe he learned there.”

  Bernardo folded a faded tablecloth. “But you couldn’t possibly ask him, not now that he’s in mourning.”

  “Of course not.” Amanda fingered her pearl necklace. “But if nothing else, I think this Leonardo Montes and his wife will do.”

  “Madame, I have to tell you. I was inspired when I saw them dancing like that,” Bernardo said. “She reminded me so much of you when you were younger.”

  Amanda stared at her bad leg, scowling.

  “I felt it, too,” Malena said. “It must be wonderful to be able to dance like that.”

  “You don’t know how to tango?” Amanda asked.

  She hesitated. Did her experience with her father count? “Not really.”

  Amanda’s eyes opened wide. “Well, we’re going to have to fix that.” She uncrossed her legs and covered them with her linen skirt. “Everyone here should be able to tango.”

  It had been useless to refuse to dance in front of Amanda. When the woman set her mind on something, she got it. And her immediate desire was to see Malena dancing. Tangoing was harder than Malena remembered, but her legs had surprised her. They’d recalled steps that she had thought long forgotten. Amanda told her she had “natural talent” and “good rhythm,” and she turned out to be an excellent teacher and lead. But by the end of the day, the woman was noticeably limping.

  Malena couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she loved about dancing. All she knew was that for a moment, she had forgotten all her worries, she’d felt more alive than ever, and she didn’t want it to end—even if her feet felt the opposite way. With all that exercise, she should have been able to fall asleep immediately. But she couldn’t. Sleep made her vulnerable, unrestrained, and who knew if, like her father, she talked in her sleep. And Claudia was less than a meter away.

  The light of dawn was stealing into the room through the curtains. The bedside clock marked five. No point in changing positions or shutting her eyes any tighter. She sat up, fixed her loose curls in a bun, and tied them with a long strand of hair. Then, she stepped out of bed and slipped into her robe. She needed a tea, a glass of water, anything to refresh her dry throat.

  From the top of the stairs, she saw the strangest thing.

  In utmost silence, Mamá Blanca, Amanda, and Ana crossed the foyer toward the front door, their heads low the entire time. None of them saw Malena on the stairs. None of them looked back. One by one, they left the house, like zombies in black dresses.

  Chapter 19

  I saw your grandmother, your mother, and your Tía Amanda leaving at dawn today.” Malena studied Javier as he tightened a bracelet clasp with a pair of pliers. She’d seized the opportunity to talk to him as soon as his father stepped out of the store. “All in black.”

  Javier didn’t lift his eyes from his work. “I know.” He returned the piece to the display case, then tossed the pliers into a drawer behind the counter. “Today is the anniversary of Tío Fausto’s death. They visit his grave every year and then attend mass.”

  “Why didn’t Alejandra go with them?” Malena knew Alejandra was in the workshop. She’d heard the drone of her drill from the hallway. “I thought she was close to her cousin.”

  “She was.”

  Javier led the way to the street and held the door open for her. “She’s not a religious woman. And she says she doesn’t like to visit the dead.”

  The two of them sat on a street bench.

  “What happened to Fausto?” Malena asked.

  He took a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Someone tried to rob the store and shot him.”

  Javier’s tone was so detached.

  “Did they find the murderer?”

  “No. Never.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Yes.” He placed his arm around her shoulder. “It’s very sad, being Alejandra’s birthday and all.”

  Malena recoiled, not only from his proximity but also from the news he was delivering. “Today is her birthday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her cousin was murdered on her birthday?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Nobody mentioned anything about her birthday,” she said. “Don’t they celebrate it?”

  “Oh, no.”

  Malena tugged her skirt over her legs, aware of Javier’s eyes on them. “That’s
not good.”

  “What?”

  “Dwelling on the past like that.”

  “She doesn’t like anyone to acknowledge her birthday, much less celebrate it. We don’t celebrate birthdays in this family. Only Claudia’s and mine, really. And that was when we were kids.”

  “Maybe we should bake a cake for her.”

  He glanced at the cigarette in his hand. “A cake? I don’t know. She might not like it.”

  “Oh, come on. It will be fun.”

  Javier was about to answer when a female voice from behind the bench spoke.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Claudia said.

  Malena hadn’t seen her arrive.

  “Why not?” Javier said. It was enough that Claudia opposed the idea for Javier to consider it. “Lili is right, Tía Alejandra should stop dwelling on the past.”

  It was somewhat amusing to see how easily these two got into quarrels. Malena had never had that kind of relationship with anybody. Would things have been the same if she had grown up with Claudia and Javier?

  Claudia fanned the smoke with her hand. “Well, that is her decision to make. I can tell you right now celebrating her birthday would be a big mistake. She’ll be furious.”

  “That’s okay,” Malena said. “We’ll take the chance.”

  Malena dug her fork into the pile of rice but was too anxious to eat. Nobody had mentioned anything about Alejandra’s birthday yet.

  Alejandra hadn’t touched her food either. Her short brown hair curled up behind her ears and her eyes were fixed on her full plate. She seemed distracted, absorbed in her own thoughts, perhaps more than usual.

  “I have an announcement to make.” Amanda broke the silence in the dining room. Since the day she’d proclaimed she was going to manage a nightclub, nobody in the family had spoken to her at the dinner table.