Casa Azul (13 page)

“What?” Caimito stiffened. “We’ve got to stop her.”

“I know that, but how?”

“We must find a way.”

Suddenly the soft whisper of a voice made its way over the wall enclosing Casa Azul. It had a soft, beautiful tone to it, almost like music. Fulang and Caimito cocked their heads to hear it better.

“El Corazón stood in the ring, only six inches high, a small stone idol of the god Quetzalcoatl.” Like a thread of smoke the words drifted over the wall.

Caimito nudged Fulang and pointed his chin in the direction from which the voice was coming.

“El Diablo, though, lay outside the ring, stunned by the strength
of El Corazón, now an Aztec god. He looked up helplessly as Quetzalcoatl drew power from the cheering crowd.”

As she listened, Fulang became excited. These were the wrestlers the portrait of Dr. Eloesser had told them about. And it wasn’t just the story that she recognized. It was the voice as well. This was the voice of the girl from the arena—the girl she had helped to escape the night before.

Without hesitation she scurried to the wall. She paused to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Then she sprang to the top of the wall and looked down. Below her, curled under a bush, two dirty street children huddled.

“Please, come in!” a voice called from the other side of the wall.

“I must be sleeping,” Maria said as she sat up. Her first thought was that Oswaldo had found them.

“Please, don’t be afraid.” The voice was kind and gentle.

Maria cautiously poked her head out from behind the bush. “Who’s there?” she whispered.

“Please. You must be hungry,” the voice said. “Come over to the gate, and I will open it for you.”

“This is definitely a dream,” Maria said. No one would invite her into his or her home for a meal in the middle of the night.

“Come in,” repeated the voice. “I’ll explain everything while you eat.”

“Who are you?” asked Maria nervously. She could tell it wasn’t a woman’s voice, but it was high, like a child’s.

Victor glanced at his sister. “Who’s that?”

“Shhhh.”

“I’m so hungry,” he whispered.

“Come on.” She crawled out from under the bush. “They might know something about where Mama went.”

The wooden gate in the wall was about twenty feet down from the bush. The gate swung open.

Maria grabbed her brother’s hand and peeked through the gate. The shadows in the garden were dense and dark. “There’s no one here.”

“Please, you are welcome,” the voice said warmly.

Was Oswaldo disguising his voice?
wondered Maria.
Was that why the person speaking was hiding?
She shook her head. “If this is a dream, I might as well enjoy it.”

Victor pulled on his sister’s hand. Together, the two children stepped into the courtyard.

Inside was a well-tended garden with flowers and trees. A small red-tile patio lay in front of the house. Grass bordered the flower beds.

“This is so creepy,” she whispered. Maria jumped at the sound of the gate swinging closed. She spun around, ready for anything—but not for what she saw before her.

“It’s a monkey!” cried Victor excitedly.

The monkey bowed and introduced herself. “I am Fulang.”

“Hi, dream monkey.” Maria giggled.

“Come with me and I’ll get you something to eat.” Fulang turned and led them through the garden.

From the shadows came a rustling of leaves. Maria and Victor leaped back. Then another monkey appeared before them.

“I am Caimito,” he said, bowing formally.

Playing along, Maria curtsied. “Pleased to meet you. I am Maria, and this is my brother, Victor.”

Victor waved.
“Hola.”

Maria marveled at the notion of two monkeys talking as they went into the blue-colored house.
This is really a great dream
, she thought.

“Oh, fabulous, look what the monkey dragged in,” cracked Chica from the back of the couch.

“A cat that talks!” Maria ran over to Chica and started scratching her behind her ears.

“Finally, someone who knows how to treat a cat,” purred Chica. She rolled onto her belly.

The skull laughed, his jaws clacking loudly.

“A candy skull!” marveled Victor. “And it talks!”

“Everyone talks in Casa Azul,” explained Fulang.

“Everyone—talks?” said Maria. She watched the portrait of Dr. Eloesser turn in his frame.

“Welcome,” said the portrait of Dr. Eloesser and the mother and child in the painting.

The other paintings also welcomed the children.

“It must be the hunger,” said Maria. She took her brother’s hand again and turned to leave. “Thank you, we’ve had a nice time—”

But the two monkeys blocked the doorway. “Don’t be afraid. This is a magical house,” explained Fulang. “We have all been touched with the magic of its owner, Frida.”

“Frida? Frida Kahlo?” marveled Maria. “This is Frida’s house?”

“Sí,”
replied Fulang with dignity.

“I just learned about her, and I saw Diego’s murals in the Ministry of Public Education.”

“Then you know that she is a great painter,” Fulang said. She spread her arms. “Like her paintings, which stretch the limits of the real world, so does her home.”

“I don’t understand,” replied Maria.

Fulang led them into the house and explained. “She has suffered so much that her home has become a haven for all. Anyone or anything entering through these walls is touched by her gift.”

Maria was amazed. She shook her head. “It seems impossible,” she murmured.

“But it’s true. And this place can be a haven for you too. You look as if you could use one,” added Caimito.

Maria pinched her arm to wake herself. “Ouch!” She shook her arm.

Fulang glanced at Caimito. “There’s no need to hurt yourself. We’re very real. You’re not dreaming.”

“Go on, you banana thief,” Chica meowed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Frida will love them. If the painting of the doctor is right, then these children are here to help her.”

“They know about El Corazón and El Diablo. The girl was telling the story,” clacked the skull.

“And Frida loves children,” said Fulang. “Come along, children. We’re going to see Frida.”

“Maybe it’s time to trust a couple of monkeys,” muttered Maria.

A warm light shown from under the door of the studio, indicating that Frida was still working. Fulang knocked gently.

“Yes?” responded Frida.

“We have a surprise,” said Fulang.

“Wonderful! Come in,” called Frida.

“She likes surprises,” clattered the skull.

“Shut up, pseudo-bonehead,” Chica snapped. “Open the door,” added the cat impatiently. She circled in front of the door and then jumped up and put her front paws against it.

Fulang reached up and turned the knob. The door swung open quickly in response to Chica’s push.

“What have we here?” exclaimed Frida, setting down her brush. She was much farther along on her self-portrait with the thorn necklace and the hummingbird. Both Caimito and Chica looked so violent in it that Fulang was startled.

Chica examined the painting. “There’s a real likeness here.”

“There is
not
,” snapped Fulang, then she remembered her manners. “Frida, listen to me. These children need food and shelter.”

“Children!” cried Frida with delight. She stood and opened her arms in welcome to Maria and Victor.

Fulang was stunned to see that the self-portrait was nearly finished. How long would it be before Frida followed Dorothy?

“Now, don’t be rude, Fulang,” Frida said pleasantly. “Introduce me to our guests.”

“The cat must’ve got her tongue,” purred Chica. “These two turned up on our doorstep.”

“I am pleased to meet you.” Frida shook both children’s hands. “I am Frida.”

Maria introduced herself and her brother. They both stared at
Frida’s thick, dark eyebrows that connected at the center of her face like a giant black caterpillar perched over her eyes.

Frida examined their disheveled state, the hollow look in their cheeks and eyes. “You must have quite a story to tell, but first you must be hungry.” She led them to the kitchen and set out bowls of green chili with goat milk and tortillas for them.

“
Gracias
,” Maria said. She and Victor were starving.

But Victor was enchanted by the house. He kept waving at every object and saying hello. Each time something replied, he collapsed in a fit of giggles.

At the table the pepper shaker in the shape of a rooster said, “Pepper.”

“Salt,” replied the chicken salt shaker.

“Pepper.”

“Salt.”

Victor erupted into laughter so hard that the milk in his mouth sprayed the room.

“Victor!” Maria was horrified.

Victor wiped his face with his sleeve and ate quietly.

“Pepper.”

“Salt.”

Victor tried not to laugh but wasn’t successful.

Maria scowled at her brother’s bad manners.

Nevertheless, their appetite pleased Frida. Contented, Maria tried to explain their presence. “We’ve traveled from a village in the north. Our grandmother died, and our priest tried to keep us in the village—”

Frida cut her off, noticing Victor’s drooping eyelids. “You both look so exhausted. All this can wait until the morning when you’re rested.”

“Gracias,”
replied Maria shyly.

“Let’s get you to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning.” She led them to the guest room. The bed was high and fat like a big loaf of bread, whiter and cleaner than anything Maria had ever seen before. It looked so marvelous and comfortable that she was hesitant to even climb onto it. She didn’t want to mess it up.

Victor, on the other hand, immediately dived into the big, fluffy pillows, wrapped himself in the nubby bedspread, and burrowed into the sheets starched and ironed and edged with crocheted lace. Maria was astonished at how many pillows were piled on the bed. Pillows on top of pillows, on top of more pillows—with beautiful embroidery of doves and flowers and sayings. One pillow read
Amor di mi vida
. Love of my life. Another,
Sólo tú
. Only you. Another had the phrase
Amor eterno
. Eternal love. Maria felt so embraced by this extraordinary, outsized love that Frida seemed to have that she finally began to relax for the first time in days. Casa Azul was the most beautiful home they had ever been in. It was much larger than the small one-room adobe house they’d lived in back in their village. But more than its luxury, its magical quality made Maria feel safe. It seemed to vibrate with safety and warmth.

“Sweet dreams,” Frida said as she closed the door.

“Maria, tell me a story.” Victor yawned sleepily.

Happily, Maria obliged. “As you remember, El Diablo was nearly knocked out on the floor outside the ring, but he quickly
recovered. He shook his head to get his senses back. Then slowly he stood and stared with extreme anger at Quetzalcoatl, who circled the ring in triumph. As he watched this Aztec god, he knew that he could not defeat such an amazing and powerful force as the god of life. Quetzalcoatl was all too overwhelming, especially as he drew in the life force from the cheering crowd. If he was to win, there was only one thing for El Diablo to do. He had to do something that no wrestler had ever done in the ring, something that went against the rules and the spirit of wrestling. He reached behind his head and untied the back of his mask. Then slowly, but with evil determination, he slipped the mask off his face.”

“No,” gasped Victor groggily.

“
Sí
. He pulled off the mask to reveal that he was not just an evil wrestler. Underneath his evil mask lived an even more evil identity. He was the ancient Aztec god of war, Huitzilopochtli, the exact opposite of life. He was … death.” Maria paused and looked down at Victor. He was already fast asleep.

“This will be the greatest battle in the history of wrestling,” she whispered. She kissed the top of his head.

“Sweet dreams,” murmured a portrait of Frida’s sister that hung on the wall over the bed.

Hope

M
aria tried to sleep. She buried her face in a pillow like an ostrich. She flopped from side to side like a beached whale. She curled into a ball like a caterpillar. But she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind raced over the events of the last few days. Finally she was afraid she would wake Victor, so she quietly climbed out of the bed, planning to sit in a chair and look out the window.

Voices from the other room, however, drew her to the door. She pressed her ear against it and listened. Frida and Fulang were discussing them, wondering where they came from and where their parents were.

A desire to talk and maybe find answers overcame her shyness. Maria opened the door and walked into the living room.

“You should rest,” Frida said, seeing her.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Then let’s get you some warm milk.” Frida led Maria into the kitchen. “It’ll help you sleep.” She poured milk into a saucepan and lit the burner on the stove.

“Salt,” said the salt shaker.

“Pepper,” replied the pepper shaker.

Frida smiled. “I heard you telling your brother the wrestling story. It was wonderful.”