Cities of the Plain(63)
She believes that Eduardo will kill her, John Grady said.
The blind man nodded.
Do you believe he will kill her?
Yes, said the maestro. I believe he will kill her.
Is that why you wont be her godfather?
Yes. That is why.
It would make you responsible.
Yes.
The dancers moved with their stiff formality over the swept and polished concrete floor. They danced with an antique grace, like figures from a film.
What do you think I should do?
I cannot advise you.
You will not.
No. I will not.
I’d give her up if I thought I could not protect her.
Perhaps.
You dont think I could.
I think the difficulties might be greater than you imagine.
What should I do.
The blind man sat. After a while he said: You must understand. I have no certainty. And it is a grave matter.
He passed his hand across the top of the table. As if he were making smooth something unseen before him. You wish for me to tell you some secret of the grand alcahuete. Betray to you some weakness. But the girl herself is the weakness.
What do you think I should do?
Pray to God.
Yes.
Will you?
No.
Why not?
I dont know.
You dont believe in Him?
It’s not that.
It is that the girl is a mujerzuela.
I dont know. Maybe.
The blind man sat. They are dancing, he said.
Yes.
That is not the reason.
What’s not?
That she is a whore.
No.
Would you give her up? Truly?
I dont know.
Then you would not know what to pray for.
No. I wouldnt know what to ask.
The blind man nodded. He leaned forward. He placed one elbow on the table and rested his forehead against his thumb like a confessor. He seemed to be listening to the music. You knew her before she came to the White Lake, he said.
I saw her. Yes.
At La Venada.
Yes.
As did he.
Yes. I suppose.
That is where it began.
Yes.
He is a cuchillero. A filero, as they say here. A man of a certain rigor. A serious man.
I am serious myself.
Of course. If you were not there would be no problem.
John Grady studied that passive face. Closed to the world even as the world was closed to him.
What are you telling me?
I have nothing to tell.
He is in love with her.
Yes.
But he would kill her.
Yes.
I see.
Perhaps. Let me tell you only this. Your love has no friends. You think that it does but it does not. None. Perhaps not even God.
And you?
I do not count myself. If I could see what lies ahead I would tell you. But I cannot.
You think I’m a fool.
No. I do not.
You would not say so if you did.
No, but I would not lie. I dont think it. I never did. A man is always right to pursue the thing he loves.
No matter even if it kills him?
I think so. Yes. No matter even that.
HE WHEELED the last barrowload of trash from the kitchen yard out to the trashfire and tipped it and stood back and watched the deep orange fire gasping in the dark chuffs of smoke that rose against the twilight sky. He passed his forearm across his brow and bent and took up the handles of the wheelbarrow again and trundled it out to where the pickup was parked and loaded it and raised and latched the tailgate and went back into the house. Héctor was backing across the floor sweeping with the broom. They carried the kitchen table in from the other room and then brought in the chairs. Héctor brought the lamp from the sideboard and set it on the table and lifted away the glass chimney and lit the wick. He blew out the match and set back the chimney and adjusted the flame with the brass knob. Where is the santo? he said.
It’s still in the truck. I’ll get it.
He went out and brought in the rest of the things from the cab of the truck. He set the crude wooden figure of the saint on the dresser and unwrapped the sheets and set about making the bed. Héctor stood in the doorway.
You want me to help you?
No. Thanks.
He leaned against the doorjamb smoking. John Grady smoothed the sheets and unfolded the pillowcases and stuffed the feather pillows into them and then unfolded the pieced quilt that Socorro had given him. Héctor stuck the cigarette in his mouth and came around to the other side of the bed and they spread the quilt and stood back.
I think we’re done, John Grady said.
They went back into the kitchen and John Grady leaned and cupped his hand at the top of the lamp chimney and blew out the flame and they went out and shut the door behind them. They walked out in the yard and John Grady turned and looked back toward the cabin. The night was overcast. Dark, cloudy, cold. They walked down to the truck.
Will they wait supper on you?
Yeah, said Héctor. Sure.
You can eat at the house if you want.
That’s all right.
They climbed in and pulled the truck doors shut. John Grady started the engine.
Can she ride a horse? said Héctor.
Yeah. She can ride.
They pulled out down the rutted road, the tools sliding and clanking behind them in the truckbed. En qué piensas? said John Grady.