Casa Azul (5 page)

Maria thought about this for a moment. How could she lose? She tore into the hem of her skirt and took out the money she had set
aside for an emergency along with the few centavos she had in her pocket. It added up to about fifteen pesos, a pittance compared to the thousands in the wallet. “Here.”

Oswaldo handed Maria the wallet and took Maria’s money. “I’ll be right back.” He smiled. “I’m sure the owner of the wallet is still around, and I bet he’ll give us a reward for finding it.” He pushed his way through the crowd and vanished.

Maria clutched the wallet tightly and turned to watch her brother enjoy the music. Victor danced before Viejo Ojoton, and people began to clap. It all felt like a carnival to Maria. She didn’t know how she could have been so lucky. Mexico City was wonderful, and she had already made a friend. She was helping him do a good deed and then he would help her.

“Tacos de chorizo! Tacos de chorizo!” a street vendor called. He carried a tray of food and made his way through the plaza.

Suddenly Maria was hungry, but she didn’t want to leave the spot where she was waiting. Oswaldo might not find her then. She and Victor had eaten the tamales and the food she had packed on the bus ride, but that was hours ago. She would have to wait for Oswaldo to return with her money. She hoped he would find the owner of the wallet soon.

After another song, Viejo Ojoton put away his guitar and collected the money that people had thrown into his guitar case.

“You are a wonderful singer,” said Maria.

“Thank you, dear,” he replied. “Why aren’t you home? It’s dinnertime.”

“We just arrived and haven’t arranged for a place yet.”

“The city is a dangerous place for newcomers. Be careful with your money.” The old man tucked his money into his pocket. Leading the way with his cane, he left the plaza for home.

It was getting late, and the plaza was beginning to empty. The vendors were closing their stalls, and people were going home for supper. The booth selling slices of jicama with chile, lime juice, and salt closed. So did the flag stall, the corn-on-the-cob stall, the pork rind seller, the fried banana vendor, and the others. Maria looked around for a sign of Oswaldo, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m hungry,” complained Victor when he returned to her side and saw the food stands close.

“We’ll eat soon,” answered Maria. She craned her neck to see all around the plaza. Slowly, it dawned on her that Oswaldo might not be coming back. She was relieved, however, that he had left the wallet with her. Even though he took her money, she had much more in the wallet.

It was then that she pulled the wallet from her pocket and opened it. When she peered inside, she realized what a fool she had been. Oswaldo had tricked her. He had given her a wallet stuffed with newspaper.

Advice from Dr. Eloesser

“T
his is the most depressed I’ve ever seen her,” Fulang said as she carried the candy skull into the living room, “even when she’s been in pain.” She was referring to the dozen operations Frida had had to strengthen and rebuild the vertebra in her spine and the bones in her foot. Frida would never fully recover from the bus accident.

“Should we call Diego?” clacked the skull.

“Don’t be stupid, you brainless confection,” snapped Chica, following the two. “He’s the reason for all her problems. If he hadn’t cheated on her, they’d still be happily married.” She stopped in the doorway and casually licked her front paw, as if their concerns about Frida were not really worth consideration. Still, she remained, proving that despite her surface attitude, she was deeply worried.

The skull ignored the cat and shifted awkwardly in Fulang’s hands.

“You’re being too simplistic,” replied Fulang. She set the skull on the coffee table by the couch. “I think we should get help where we can find it. And if that means going to Diego, then so be it.”

“Well, we’ve got to do something,” said the skull mindlessly.

A breeze drifted through the room. The ribbons covering the paintings fluttered in the shifting air, reminding them all of Frida’s drastic actions. A moment later, as if carried in on this fresh breath, the spider monkey from the garden settled on the windowsill. His long tail stood up behind him like a question mark as he listened. He brushed back the brown and white fur on his head several times and chewed a fingernail. At first the others didn’t notice this new arrival, but eventually Fulang felt the monkey’s eyes on her back. She turned and saw the new visitor. This was the monkey she’d seen in the garden.

“
Hola
,” Fulang said.

Behind the monkey, a hummingbird darted.

“
Hola
,” the monkey replied.

Noting the hummingbird and remembering it was the Aztec symbol for luck in love, Fulang thought joyously,
This is a sign
. She smiled to herself about the silliness of such a notion.

“I heard what you said before. Can I help?” asked the monkey.

“Oh, spare me,” growled Chica. She moved to the couch and reclined on a pillow embroidered with a dove. “What can a
monkey
do?”

The monkey gave the cat a scowl and climbed down beside Fulang to introduce himself. “I’m Caimito de Guayabal.” He dipped his head in a self-deprecating way.

“Your name’s ‘Guava-Patch Fruit’?” She laughed.

“When I was a baby, that’s all I would eat,” explained Caimito. “So that’s what my mother called me.”

A sudden, muffled cry interrupted them. This cry was so insistent, its origin soon was clear. A small, framed painting hanging beside the window banged against the wall. Wrapped in ribbons like the others, it spoke like someone bound and gagged.

“It must be suffocating.” Fulang quickly unwrapped the bright red and blue ribbons. Caimito joined in unwinding the long strands, while Chica watched the entire affair with disdain.

“It can’t suffocate,” she spat derisively. “It’s a painting, for crying out loud.”

“Don’t be so literal,” replied Fulang.

The full-length portrait appeared from behind the ribbons. It was a portrait of Dr. Leo Eloesser, Frida’s surgeon in the United States. In the painting he stood beside a table with a model sailboat. Behind him a sketch of a mother and child hung on a wall. Dr. Eloesser’s high celluloid shirt collar seemed to be choking him, and he coughed. “Excuse me, please, but I think what Frida needs is
life
.”

“News flash,” cracked Chica sarcastically. “She’s already alive, which is more than can be said for a lump of pigment like you.”

“No, not like that,” protested the Dr. Eloesser portrait. “I mean bring some life into Casa Azul. Make her home alive with people. Make her look forward to each day.”

“How can we do that?” clacked the skull.

“
Sí
, how?” repeated Caimito. He placed his hand on Fulang’s shoulder.

She shrugged off the touch and shot Caimito a withering look.
Typical male
, she thought,
trying to take over
. “Please explain, Doctor,” she said, trying to regain control of the moment.

The portrait thought for a moment. “Frida desperately wants
children of her own, but she can never have them. Now that Diego has left, even her fantasies of being a mother are shattered.”

“Okay, so now we know how to get Frida more depressed,” cracked Chica.

“Let me finish,” the portrait replied. “We need to fill Casa Azul with children! This will distract Frida from her sorrow. It will cheer her up. You all know how much she loves them.”

“What makes you Mr. Know-it-all?” hissed Chica.

“Hush, Chica,” replied Fulang. “Dr. Eloesser has a point. But Frida’s nieces are away with their mother. We must find other children. But where?”

He pointed to the mother-and-child sketch behind him that was inside the painting with him. “Frida painted this to remind me of why she wanted to be healed, so she could have children.”

The mother in the sketch suddenly awakened from her sleep and looked up. “When she painted me and my child into the portrait, she told me to remind the good doctor of his responsibility to help her become a mother.”

The child removed his thumb from his mouth and added, “I heard it too.”

“Okay, you bucket of paint, since you have all the answers, how do we fill the house with children?” asked Chica.

Dr. Eloesser smiled. “You will find the answer in a wrestling match between El Corazón and El Diablo.”

“What does that mean?” asked the skull.

Dr. Eloesser shrugged. He turned to the mother and child behind him in the painting and they shrugged as well.

“Now you’re making
me
angry,” said Fulang.

“We’ll figure it out together,” said Caimito.

“You’ll help?” asked Fulang incredulously. “What can you do? You don’t even know her.”

“I … I just want to help.” Caimito backed away and then turned and disappeared through the window.

“We shouldn’t listen to such silly nonsense from something that isn’t even alive,” added Chica, nodding toward the painting.

“Thanks for the support,” said the skull.

In the other room, Frida began to sing again. “
A mí no me queda ya ni la menor esperanza…. Todo se mueve al compass de lo que encierra la panza
.” “Not the least hope remains to me…. Everything moves in time with what the belly contains.”

In frustration, Fulang picked up the skull and threw it against the portrait.

“Hey!” shouted the skull. “That would hurt if I could have felt it!”

A Magic Trick

T
he bright afternoon light slowly turned to darkness on the plaza as a full moon rose above. The round yellow disk in the sky beamed like a spotlight from the heavens on Maria and Victor. In the large plaza they felt incredibly exposed. The plaza seemed larger than their entire village, and everything looked different—the paved streets, the huge fountain in the center of the plaza, the tall two and three-story buildings surrounding it, and the many cars and trucks parked everywhere.

“I’m hungry,” Victor said. He kicked a piece of trash and sat down on a bench beside the fountain.

“Don’t you think of anything but food?” Maria snapped. She was at her wits’ end. She couldn’t believe how foolish she was for trusting Oswaldo. Now all of their money was gone. She could feel the panic rise up in her throat, almost as if she were going to be sick.

Victor began to cry. Maria sat down beside him, held him in her arms, and rocked him. “I’m sorry, Victor,” she murmured. She felt horrible for taking her fear and frustration out on her younger brother.
Why don’t I kick a dog now
? she thought.

In a barely audible whisper, Victor repeated, “I’m hungry.” He buried his face deeper into her blouse.

“I know, me too,
poquito
,” said Maria, lightly stroking his hair, “but we don’t have any money to buy food. We’ll have to find Mother tomorrow. In the morning I’ll ask someone for directions.” The two sat there and listened to the strange sounds of the city. Trolleys clanged down the wide avenues while cars and buses dodged one another in a frightening and deadly dance. A loud group of people spilled out of a building a couple of blocks away. Their laughter echoed through the empty plaza.

“Where were we with El Corazón and El Diablo?” asked Maria gently.

“El Corazón just escaped El Diablo’s attempt to pin him,” mumbled Victor. He tried to act as if he didn’t care, but he did.

“
Sí
, I remember.” Maria drew in a breath. “Oh yes. El Corazón had just narrowly escaped disaster. El Diablo was so surprised by El Corazón summoning such strength to escape the pin that he was not ready for the flying kick that El Corazón now delivered. El Corazón leaped into the air to deliver his deadly Atomic Earthquake while El Diablo lay helpless as a newborn baby on the mat. As our hero flew in the air, higher than he had ever reached before, El Diablo suddenly marshaled his almost completely exhausted strength to lift his knee and plant it squarely in our hero’s stomach as he came down.”

“Ugh,” groaned Victor, quickly forgetting about his hunger.