Rolando leaves before Eva wakes up and he doesn’t see her the next day or the next or the day after the next and early on Sunday he rides the bus to El Guasmo and jumps on the back of a pickup truck that’s part of a caravan heading to welcome back El Loco — and on the side of the road Rolando sees a small crowd circling a burning tire in celebration of El Loco’s return — and on every corner megaphones are transmitting the same songs — the force of the poor / Abdalá / the clamor of my people / Abdalá — and on the flatbed where he’s standing everyone’s singing along to this unending stream of songs — and on every corner a poster of El Loco adorns doors / windows / lampposts — as if the people here believed they could summon him back with an overabundance of images — quick the lamb’s blood — knowing me / knowing you / there is nothing we can — the force of the poor / Abdalá / the clamor of my people — and as the sun goes down Rolando follows a long line of people who are lighting torches — but Rolando doesn’t seize their torches and scream wake up you idiots can’t you see El Loco is as corrupt as the rest of them? — and on the plaza there are couples dressed as if going to a wedding and families dressed as if going to church and girls with veils and what looks like first communion dresses — and contrary to the rumors he had allowed himself to believe the people aren’t coming here for free alcohol because there’s no free alcohol anywhere — although of course there’s ambulatory vendors selling water and beer and there’s so many flags that Rolando has to keep changing positions so he can see the stage — it’s getting tougher to move because everyone wants to be by the stage — especially those with signs representing their cooperatives or their neighborhoods — and on the stage Los Iracundos is singing the same old ballads that everyone loves — y la lluvia caerá / luego vendrá el sereno — the force of the poor / Abdalá — and everyone’s singing along and it’s hard to tell amid the noise if that’s the sound of a helicopter behind them — it is! — a helicopter that’s descending rapidly toward them and some of the children look scared of the winged machine above them but most people are just waving their handkerchiefs and signs despite the gray whirlwind of dirt that’s swirling pebbles off the ground which are pelting them so that Rolando has to cover his face — the force of the poor / Abdalá — and Abdalá lands and he’s welcoming them and thanking them and singing and saying I love you Ecuador — and Abdalá’s pacing back and forth on the wooden platform and he’s sweating — he’s angry — his white guayabera cannot contain his indignation because of what the oligarchies have done to the poor of my country — Is there a parent in the crowd please raise your hand — Let’s see you gentleman here with your son let’s talk the truth no tales I’m going to demonstrate to you that you are not the same for León because they have another god — The god of racism — The god of monopoly — The god of wealth — I’m going to demonstrate it to you and you tell me if I lie — Sir with the greatest respect if your eighteen year old son falls in love with León’s daughter would they let him in their house? — No! No! No! — They will beat him and throw him out yes or no? — Yes! Yes! Yes! — exactly yes — Rolando go back to your room — But if León’s grandson were to leave your daughter pregnant what would León say? — Oh ha ha it’s just our boy being a rascal is this the truth or is this not the truth? — Yes! Yes! Yes! — Would they give that baby their name? — No! No! No! — They would make her abort it or she would be imprisoned and forsaken with a bastard child like they have forsaken and imprisoned my beloved country.
IX / ROLANDO LOOKS FOR EVA
Check — Check — Is this thing on? — It is? — So what? — Anyone out there? — Do you like magic? — Say you’re strolling by a — Taking a stroll by a pond where a child’s drowning what do you do? — I don’t even unstrap my watch you say — I don’t even slip out of my penny loafers — I dive right in — Yes quite commendable sir but why are you sporting penny loafers by a pond? — And what if it turns out you’re the child in the pond who will dive in for you? — My neighbor you say — My cousins — El Mono Egas because I owe him a crate of bananas — But what if you look around and discover they’re in the pond too? — Say we’re all drowning in the pond and howling for help but no one comes for us because the perimeter of the pond is said to be dangerous? — the piranhas Mama — Who if we cried out would come for us? — It’s silent here tonight — Have we all gone? — Are we still here? — and where is Eva tonight? — Rolando thinks — is she listening to his broadcast from her igloo? — And if one day we manage to crawl out of the pond — To slither out like half men half snakes — Like half women half manatees — Do the ones who didn’t come for us have the right to grouse against our torching of their homes? — To plead mercy when we line them up against a great wall and spray them with dark brown pond? — Does anyone have a garden hose I can borrow? — Preferably longish? — Oh what’s this folks we have us a caller hello pond repair — That’s not funny folks hello you’re on the air — Hello I’m always on the air but no one listens ha ha — Aha a regular listener do you have a request? — A question — We’re listening — Do you have a father? — Sometimes — And you don’t think your father would dive in for you? — He’s already in the pond sir — What if he knows how to float? — He does have a whale of a belly but it doesn’t at present function as a floating device — What if he knew about the pond beforehand and had floaters strapped around his waist? — Floaters deflate sir — Say you’re in the pond and you just found out you’re going to have a son — I’m not bringing children into this pond sir — Do you not think you would prepare giraffe floaters for your boy? — I’m not bringing children into the — Don’t underestimate fathers Rolando — Dad? — Yes? — I — I don’t think listeners of Radio Nuevo Día want to — Dad? — Dad? — Apparently the phone line is down folks but here’s an old favorite in the meanwhile — Cuando vuelva a tu lado / y estés solo contigo.
After signing off at midnight Rolando thinks of not driving to Eva’s house as he drives to Eva’s house — thinks of not thinking about what he’ll say to her — not that he thinks he’s obligated to say anything special to her — I’ve missed you — every morning I wake up disappointed if I haven’t dreamed of you — ugh — I haven’t come here to recite you poetry Eva — just drive Rolando — the surface of the road on the way to Eva’s house shifting abruptly from pavement to gravel to craters that rattle the bus that’s speeding by with a hand-sized flag of El Loco attached to its antennae that sounds like the shuffling of cards — which reminds Rolando of nothing — of his father who never played cards backgammon chess — switching off the headlights as he parks by Eva’s house — to remain silent is to give the impression that one wants nothing — to shut off the lights in one’s house is to give the impression that one wants — a surprise? — shut up — that one is asleep — that one is embracing someone other than Rolando Alban Cienfuegos carajo — stop that — that one has shut one’s eyes to the world — let it rot Rolando — winning the chess championship at San Javier three years in a row but his classmates turning it into a joke — Gremlin eat Queen ha — crossing the road and standing by Eva’s door and listening in for nothing — irrationally expecting Eva to appear precisely when he steps on her front porch — watched too many soap operas as a kid eh? — my sister Alma loved those horrible Venezuelan soap operas with soundtracks by Timbiriche — corro / vuelo / me acelero — a megaphone in the distance kicks off a Friday night dance party at the plaza nearby — a cumbia rhythm ladies and gentleman — focus Rolando — fine okay — knocking a friendly tune on Eva’s door — fuego del amor — nothing — stop knocking like a repentful boy you didn’t do anything wrong — a manly knock on the window — nothing — stop don’t knock when the cumbia from the plaza ebbs or you’ll alert the neighbors — Gremlins! Midnight! Agh! — the window at the back of Eva’s house isn’t locked so he opens it and waits for something to happen — don’t wait that long moron — climbing through the window and landing in her kitchen where a rubber ducky is floating sideways
in her sink with its ear to the clogged water — there’s your goddamn pond — shut up — no one in the living room — good — no heaving sounds coming from the bedroom — good — no one in the bedroom — bad? — I haven’t come here to serenade you Eva — you’ve come here to tell me what you haven’t come here for? — I haven’t stood here to hear what you haven’t come here for Rolando — good one — neither good nor bad señor — maybe he should sit on the one stiff dining room chair and await instructions — sit Robot — turning into another stiff item of furniture by the time Eva returns — if Eva returns — hello I am chair cushion — you’re too bony to be a cushion Rolando — hello I am monk cushion repent — why do you have a ceramic whale on your dining room table Eva? — because that whale swallowed my doll and I’m waiting for him to cough her up Rolanbobo — the rumble of buses outside — of bulldozers advancing on gravel — of dump trucks hauling dead whales to supermarkets everywhere — don’t slump Rolando — this chair’s uncomfortable okay? — hundreds of butchers sawing off whales inside factories ablaze with stadium headlights — the music from the plaza no longer audible just the cumbia beat like a galloping horse — the same damned horse for the same dumb cumbias — the same dumb tragedy of their rhythmic perfection — as if long ago someone picked a horse from the Andes and called it a cumbia and then condemned it to gallop mindlessly across the Pacific coast — not a horse but a donkey that was condemned to gallop like a horse — enough — the dining chair is too uncomfortable he’s moving to Eva’s bedroom — lying down on her empty bed instead of searching through her things as if that absolves him of his breaking into her house — the burglar took a nap but didn’t even take a cauliflower officer — once he’s accustomed to the dark he can see that all of Eva’s plants have been angled toward the bed like an audience — but where’s the front of a plant? — because if you don’t know where that is how do you know what they’re looking at? — who they’re looking at? — me? — take off your shoes mister — chlorophyll what is? — sleep Gizmo — what the hell were the Drool and the Microphone Head doing at his father’s restaurant? — and why did his father prank call him? — and what hideous cumbia puns are they transmitting at that dance party nearby? — and why are these notebooks which he’s never seen before stacked on Eva’s nightstand? — and why do they have drawings of stick figures with oxygen tanks and fins? — and why are some of these notebooks discolored and wavy? — did she spill her Fanta on them and try to dry them with a hairdryer? — and why does the thought of opening them and reading them seem like such a terrible idea if they might actually contain evidence of her — of her what? — of where and with whom she is tonight? — dear diary today I met a wonderful someone unlike that grim Gremlin — shut up — fine he won’t read them — remember when you read your sister’s copy of Little Women like four times? — just her annotations on the margins okay? — okay what now? — sleep but don’t drool on her pillow and don’t forget Eva has vanished like this before after arguing with you so don’t worry too much — for days Eva not answering his calls and then resurfacing as if she’d been simply contemplating life at an igloo unaware he’d been desperate to talk to her remember? — not unaware no absenting herself from the awareness that he was desperate to see her — exiting through a side door before the news of his desperation reached her — these crevices aren’t meant for you sir — no — not desperate to talk to her but desperate to know if this time her exit was irreversible — if you knew you were going to feel this way why did you leave Eva’s house after you two argued? — you should’ve tied yourself to her back until she spoke to you again — some people haul hay / some people haul this guy — what’s this guy doing on your back Eva? — of course Rolando’s worried regardless because the last time she vanished had been unbearable for him hour after hour reimagining all those moments they spent together realizing that real regret is simply the ceaseless reimagining of all those days he could have seen her but didn’t — all those moments he could have told her hey I know it sounds corny but I would like you to know I love everything about you — all of those moments turning into reimagined moments in which he does see her and does tell her everything — why are you wearing a Stevie Wonder costume Rolando? — I just called / to say — take off those glasses let me see your evil eyes — my beautiful black eyes? — why are you wearing a grass costume Rolando? — so I can outstretch myself under your feet — why are you looking at me like that Rolando? — so I can hypnotize myself into never forgetting the twist of your mouth when you disapprove of me — enough of that go to sleep Rolando — one sheep — if he had a hole in his sock he could twiddle his big toe like a puppet — hello boys and girls! — Eva’s room silent and static which is how he imagines Eva’s room when he’s not around — which is how he imagines Eva when he’s not around — Eva not brushing her hair or draining the sink or sailing her yellow ducky — no — he has never imagined her doing anything when he’s not around as if she didn’t exist whenever he wasn’t with her or existed in an inanimate state of waiting for him — an inanimate object is less likely to cheat on you eh? — shut up — two sheep — in the stiff dining room chair Eva waiting for Rolando to reanimate her — no reanimation is needed when you imagine her exiting from you? — Rolando’s sitting up and switching on the desk lamp placing the stack of Eva’s notebooks on his lap discovering after a quick glance at her notebooks that the entries are from fifteen years ago — convincing himself that if he doesn’t read her entries chronologically he will be less at fault — not only did he not take a cauliflower he didn’t even snoop officer — maybe cauliflowers constipate him? — enough with the constipation jokes — opening a black notebook at random and reading Eva’s handwriting Hi / I’m Evarista / I collect proverbs and snails / Dear journal I can’t glue my seashells to your pages so I will draw each shell from different angles that I will then mark on the shells with my watercolors / Aunt Mercedes brought an extra lock for the front door today and says every night she will come lock it so that no one has to worry about me sleepwalking outside again / Don Carlos the driver of the 22 bus let us in for free again and my mother said to him I don’t want your pity Don Carlos and Don Carlos said this isn’t about pity now take a seat and give your daughter this candy here on our way out I said thank you to him with a nod my mother didn’t see it but I waited until we got home to unwrap the candy cane / Yesterday on the bus to Quito I vomited corn / For her noble and pure gestures Rosa Porteros wherever you are / Halloween again bleh / Today Mama didn’t get out of bed but this time I fried her a cheese sandwich before going to school / Dear journal I’d rather see you blank than strewn with pointless words / Either we serve life or we serve death neutrality isn’t possible said Arnulfo Romero / Dear Óscar do you mind if I call you Arnulfo I wish my classmates called me Arnulfa the Smurf instead of Eva the Cobra / Today I didn’t think of you even once Arsenio / My mother said to my Aunt Mercedes that if at least they had handed over his body because my brother Arsenio wasn’t an animal to be tossed in some ditch — enough Rolando — returning her notebooks to the nightstand and switching off the desk lamp — why didn’t Eva tell him she had a brother? — and why doesn’t her omission feel like a betrayal? — because what’s the point of telling anyone anything anyway? — he has never told Eva about his own sister crossing the border to that accursed country — about his sister finally calling from that accursed country after six months of not knowing whether she’d managed to cross the border — about his father answering the phone and calming her — Alma corazón — about Rolando hearing the sound of her sobs from the kitchen — about his father with the phone to his ear sitting down carefully — as if trying not to disturb the balance of the — no such thing as a balance of the universe no — he just didn’t want his movements to alter the phone signal so he stood up again slowly — my sister crying of excitement to finally get a hold of Dad I told myself but no that wasn’t it — I could sense that wasn’t it — or perhaps I couldn’t sense anything and I’
ve now turned myself into someone who can sense the grief of a sister thousands of miles away — my sister on the phone crying — Alma corazón — and I standing away from my father and yet trying to listen to what he was listening to — I didn’t make much of that moment in the moment or maybe I did how would I know? — sometimes I feel encrusted with moments that recur with or without my knowledge — and I standing away from myself and yet trying to listen to what I was listening to — switching on Eva’s desk lamp picking up Eva’s notebooks arranging them chronologically reading them in order and after a few hours piecing together that two days before Halloween when Eva was eight years old her fifteen year old brother had borrowed the neighbor’s pickup truck to buy talc powder for their ghost costumes and was never seen again — that for years her mother had searched for him in vain — that her mother had been warned by the police to stop asking so many questions or else — that it was more than likely that her brother had been detained by the ambulatory antiterrorist squadrons that had been secretly trained by an Israeli antiterrorist expert who had been secretly hired by that goddamn oligarch known as León Martín Cordero — that just like the brothers Restrepo and hundreds of others who had been detained for no reason during the presidency of León Martín Cordero her brother was probably tortured and murdered and tossed in the Yambo lagoon with the rest of them — Rolando switching off the desk lamp and shutting his eyes — the carousel Mama — four years without you Arsenio — sardines flapping on a gray beach where Rolando’s legs are submerged in mud as he trails his father to a fishing boat — today I didn’t think of you again Arsenio — your son’s a wimp Don Alban even my mutt doesn’t get this seasick — I’m so sorry Eva — today I counted how many times in the last year I wrote down that I hadn’t thought of you I will make it up to you by thinking of you just as many times today Arsenio.
The Revolutionaries Try Again Page 14