The Revolutionaries Try Again
Page 21
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What did Julio say exactly?
I told him about our plan and . . .
Over the phone?
Yes and he agreed to . . .
When was the last time you talked to him in person?
. . . the same plan I’ve already . . .
Last year in Miami Julio and I . . .
When he was supposed to pick you up at the airport and didn’t?
Yes but he . . .
What was his excuse?
Women are like cockroaches.
The day after the apocalypse only Julio will remain and he’ll say to the gray, cold wind women are like . . .
Come to the party, he said. His parties used to happen on the tennis court. One long row of women, one long row of men.
Dancing?
To Nitzer Ebb, yes. Once Julio hid a girl on that boat over there for three days.
Fed her his father’s shrimps?
Probably forgot he’d left her there.
Are we drunk enough?
Are you trying to over Chivas me so you can . . .
I was fired from the Central Bank, Antonio.
That’s not possible sir you’ve always . . .
So that the minister of finance could replace me with Alfonso Morales, his son in law.
Alfo Sonso Morales? From San Javier? He was even more sonso than . . .
Did it on a Friday, before the long carnival weekend. The guards at the Central Bank were still at lunch so the janitor was asked to escort me out and on the way out secretaries and clerks, back from their jovial lunches, looked at me as if they had been expecting this. As if all along they’d been wondering what I was doing there. It was my fault, of course. I should have befriended someone I could have called to steer the minister away from my post.
I was fired from my first job at an economic consulting firm because I falsified some receipts for overtime meals I did and didn’t have. Not that I cared that much about . . .
I remember thinking maybe I could call the Drool over in San Francisco and ask him if he could find me a job up there even though I know you’re full of good intentions but devoid of . . .
Of course I would’ve tried to . . .
Do you remember all those Saturdays at the hospice Luis Plaza Dañín?
What kind of question is that, Leo?
Do you remember Mapasingue?
Teaching the parables by the stairs that led to . . .
Do you remember Cajas?
How could I forget if it’s still . . .
Desolation is a test from god, Father Lucio said.
I don’t believe in any of it anymore and yet . . .
What would we be like if someone expunged those memories from us?
I didn’t tell anyone in the United States about Mapasingue or Cajas or the hospice Luis Plaza Dañín.
What does that have to do with anything, Antonio? Who cares if you . . .
I’m sorry, Leo. I don’t always know what to say.
More like never know what to say.
All these years I thought you and I would eventually be, at a minimum, ministers of something together. Even if I turned into a farmer in Iceland I would still be thinking any minute now Leopoldo and I are going to become ministers of . . .
I’m stuck here, Antonio. I’ve been stuck here since before you left. I never expected any calls from you.
Here to end your end times, sir, that was so . . .
So to speak.
I was so glad it was you on the phone and I . . .
You haven’t changed, Antonio. Or you have except for this one lachrymal habit of yours. I don’t remember you crying at Julio’s parties back then.
Remember when I threw my calculator against the . . .
The Snivel’s here, watch your calculators, fellows. You can borrow my handkerchief but don’t drool on it, okay?
I’m sorry. Long plane rides always exhaust me and . . .
Julio’s boat is rocking.
Let’s go knock on it.
Popcorn. Hey Popcorn?
–Haven’t heard that nickname in years. Who’s there?
Your mother.
–You’ve changed, Mom. Why are you drooling, Mom? Leo, so glad you could make it.
Leo’s my date so I guess that means at last Leo has managed to date your mom, Popcorn.
Who’s there?
–She likes to repeat whatever I say?
She likes to repeat whatever you say?
–I was about to come out and look for you guys. So glad you could make it.
About to. Always.
Listen, Julio we have to . . .
What’s happening, who are these people, Antonio?
You told your revolera my name’s your name?
Why would anyone want your name, Drool?
–Shhh. Different Antonio, Antonio.
One Drool, many drools.
–I’ve been thinking about what you said, Leo. Your plan. It’s a good one.
At last Julio does his homework.
–My father can definitely fund our campaign. He’ll do it. When do we start?
We don’t have much time.
Who are these people, Antonio?
Boat engineers, madam.
Boat’s leaking.
We’re going to have to ask you to step down, madam.
Boat engineering regulations, you understand.
–These engineers dance too. Show her, gentlemen.
I’ll lead.
Out of the question.
Let Leo lead, Drool.
This is stupid.
Put your head / on my . . .
Later.
Baby the world can end tomorrow and . . .
Hey that’s Julio’s line.
Who’s Julio? If you ever give me that line, Antonio, I will . . .
And yet the world can end tomorrow, Thalia.
Maybe it’s already ended?
At least we have a boat.
Plus the possibility to procreate.
–Oh come back out, Thalia.
Is that her real name?
Remember Kalinka, the Russian?
–Hold on. Let me go talk to her, fellows.
Don’t be long.
Is he coming back?
Doesn’t look likely.
What’s that noise?
The boat’s rocking again.
How long until we knock again?
What do we do now?
What’s with the lights? Time to sing Happy Birthday?
Looks like the whole block has gone dark.
The whole block being Julio’s house.
Are they singing El Loco’s song inside?
The force of the poor?
Sounds like it.
The man with the candle approaches us to inform . . .
–It’s over.
You mean the lights? Yes we noticed that too but . . .
Welcome back, Rafael.
–El Loco just landed in El Guasmo.
Again?
He isn’t allowed to be in Ecuador.
Again?
–They’re allowing him to run for office. The interim president will announce tomorrow that for the good of the nation elections will be held earlier.
In six months?
–Three weeks.
Julio better hurry in there.
If Julio’s Julio he’ll never come out of there.
What do we do now?
Chivas?
XIV / EVA ALONG VICTOR EMILIO ESTRADA
Does Rolando think that I’m his — what? — mascot? — doesn’t matter Eva thinks as she hammers posters along Victor Emilio Estrada — we’re all going to die anyway — my mascot here believes we will transform our society through a sputtering radio — ugh — through community theater that conceals its sermons with face paint — white at last! — shut up — through warnings like the apocalyptic warnings of the unstoppered young student who at a street corner outside La Universidad Estatal would irrup
t against the tentacles of
squid ceviche / here the squid ceviche
an unstoppered young student who would rouse no one with his anachronistic pamphlets and his gastroenterological ravings about how long will we believe that their morsels will trickle down their gullets to someday
toilets straight to the left sir
reach us?
no pamphlets today Eva would say to that unstoppered young student who sported moccasins without socks and didn’t mind showing his bony ankles and avoided the main exit of La Universidad Estatal and would plant himself at a more desolate street corner nearby as if trying to boost his role as an outcast preacher of change — we’re more they’re less — if not today tomorrow — a pamphlet today Eva? — how did you know my name? — Uncle Karl knows everything — ugh — their daily exchanges evolving over time from the polite to the theatrical with him acting as if he were studying her facial expressions for clues after taking a pamphlet from him and her humoring him by putting on her most severe face — how did that face look then? — same as today? — she has never dreamed of stone sculptures or examined expressions in the mirror that have always been there — no they haven’t — either way we’re all going to — don’t melodramatize yourself Eva — her brother Arsenio teasing her about her severe face — Medusa face — shut up Arsno — the moccasins of the unstoppered young student scuffed from losing at street soccer maybe — let me guess no pamphlets today right? — if not tomorrow the day after tomorrow — and one day the unstoppered young student tied his pamphlets with a bow and offered them to her like a cake and she said no pamphlets today thanks — and one day on Halloween he dressed like a Jehovah’s Witness and she still said no thanks — and one day he said I brought reinforcements meet Rolando Alban Cienfuegos and she said not today thanks — what a clown — Rolando running after her unzipping her backpack sticking the pamphlets inside — not a clown Rolando didn’t laugh — I’ll toss these as soon as you’re out of sight Cienfuegos — why don’t you toss them now? — not right now I — here I’ll help you — no I — Rolando hurling the red pamphlets toward the street the flying pamphlets not startling the bored audience inside a crowded bus staring at them as if expecting them to burst with confetti firecrackers ketchup — Rolando grabbing the rest of the pamphlets from her backpack and tossing them on her path like breadcrumbs — not a clown Rolando didn’t even smile — there’s a salmon in your purse ma’am — hurling the red pamphlets like another batch of pointless Molotov cocktails — neither good nor bad señor — running back to the desolate outpost of the unstoppered young student before she could punch him in the shoulder — Rolando told us you were recontra taken by him when you two first met — that’s not true Rolando looked terrified of me — oh is that true Rolando? — no that’s just another tale of La Macha Camacha — the preacher’s assistant has spoken? — ugh — oh were you an altar boy Rolando? — what did impress Eva was that despite looking terrified by her Rolando stayed in character and assumed the role of the angry radical — and where is Rolando tonight? — where was Rolando last night? — probably not on Victor Emilio Estrada where people are being chauffeured from nightclub to nightclub as if playacting at being the sons and daughters of North Americans who just happened to be stationed at this miserable city — as soon as she’s done hammering these posters she will leave this accursed part of town — this hollow part of town where once upon a time John Paul II was probably received with open arms — gastroentoro what? — logical — chanfle — where on every other telephone pole she’s hammering her right thumb further — are you hitting yourself on purpose Eva? — not telling — her thumbnail popped while hammering these magnum roofing nails your honor — isn’t it uncomfortable to carry that hammer in your back pocket? — can’t carry it in my hand or these people here will panic — we interrupt this program to — warning deranged carpenter on the run — where Opus Dei cells are probably spreading the wealth of god among themselves — where once upon a time Opus Dei mothers probably found ways to rig the children’s contest to welcome John Paul II — my teacher says I should enter the contest to receive John Paul II on his first visit to Ecuador — mi chiquitolina — is a sermon most off putting when delivered from the pulpit of a cathedral or a street corner? — the first time a pope will set foot in Ecuador Mama — the pope’s going to kiss our land and I will hand him orquídeas from our garden — breaking up is never easy / I know — you’re not entering any contest to see that good for nothing — no don’t say that — don’t mention that lastre in this house again — her mother slamming doors rearranging sunflowers as if being forced to tidy up the house for an undesirable guest her mother throwing plates inside the viscous pool that was their kitchen sink