Conversation in the Cathedral (61 page)

One morning, it was after the trouble, Amalia was coming back from the store and saw a patrol car parked by the door of the building. A policeman and a plainclothesman were arguing with the mistress on the sidewalk. Just let me make a phone call, the mistress was saying, but they took her arms, put her in the car and left. She stood on the sidewalk, so frightened she didn’t feel like going in. She called Miss Queta but she wasn’t home; she called all afternoon and she didn’t answer. They’d probably taken her to the police station too, they’d probably come and take her in too. The maids and neighbors came by to find out what happened, where they’d taken her. That night she couldn’t shut her eyes: they’re coming, they’re going to take you away. The next day Miss Queta appeared and put on a terrible look when Amalia told her about it. She ran to the telephone: do something, Señora Ivonne, they can’t keep her in jail, it was all Paqueta’s fault, upset, frightened, Miss Queta too. She gave Amalia ten soles: they’d got the mistress mixed up in something ugly, the police or reporters would probably come, go to your family for a few days. Her eyes were full of tears and she heard her murmur poor Hortensia. Where would she go, where was she going. She went to her aunt’s, who ran a boardinghouse in Chacra Colorada now. The mistress went on a trip, auntie, she gave me some time off. Her aunt grumbled at her for having disappeared for so long, and was looking at her. Finally she took her face and examined her eyes: you’re lying, she fired you because she found out you’re pregnant. She denied it, she wasn’t, she protested, who could she be pregnant from. But what if her aunt was right, if that was why she wasn’t bleeding? She forgot about the mistress, the police, what was she going to tell Ambrosio, what would he say. On Sunday she went to the stop by the Military Hospital, mumbling a prayer. She began to tell him about the business with her mistress, but he already knew. She was already back home, Amalia, Don Fermín had talked to some friends and they let her out. And why had they arrested the mistress? She probably did something dirty, something bad, and he changed the subject: Ludovico had loaned him his room for the whole night. They didn’t see Ludovico much anymore, Ambrosio told her that it seemed he was going to get married and was talking about buying a house in the Villacampa development, Ludovico has come up in the world, hasn’t he, Amalia? They went to a little restaurant in Rímac and he asked her why aren’t you eating. She wasn’t hungry, she’d had a big lunch. Why wasn’t she talking? She was thinking about the mistress, tomorrow I’ll go see her early. As soon as they went into the little room she got up the nerve to say: my aunt says I’m pregnant. He sat down on the bed with a thump. What’s this shit about your aunt thinks, he shook her by an arm, was she or wasn’t she? Yes, she thought she was, and she began to cry. Instead of consoling her, Ambrosio started to look at her as if she had leprosy and might infect him. It couldn’t be, he repeated, it can’t be and his voice stumbled. She ran out of the room. Ambrosio caught up with her on the street. Calm down, don’t cry, stupefied, he went with her to the car stop and he said I wasn’t expecting it, don’t think I’m mad, you just left me without anything to say. On the Avenida Brasil he said good-bye to her until Sunday. Amalia thought: he won’t be coming anymore.

Señora Hortensia wasn’t furious: hello, Amalia. She hugged her
happily
, I thought you’d been scared off and wouldn’t come back. How could she think such a thing, ma’am. I know, the mistress said, you’re a good friend, Amalia, a real friend. They’d tried to get her involved in
something
she hadn’t done, people were like that, that shitty Paqueta was like that, they were all like that. The days, the weeks went back to what they always were, each day a little worse because of the money troubles. One day a man in uniform knocked at the door. Who did he want to see? But the mistress went out to receive him, hello, Richard, and Amalia
recognized
him. He was the same one who had come into the house early that other morning, except that now he was wearing a pilot’s cap and a blue jacket with gold buttons. Mr. Richard was a pilot for Panagra, his whole life was spent traveling, gray sideburns, a blond lock on his forehead, chubby, freckle-faced, a Spanish mixed with English that made you laugh. Amalia thought he was nice. He was the first one to come into the apartment, the first one to sleep over. He would arrive in Lima on Thursday, come from the airport in his blue uniform, take a bath, rest awhile, and they would go out, coming back at dawn, making a lot of noise and sleeping until noon. Sometimes Mr. Richard would spend two days in Lima. He liked to get into the kitchen, put on one of Amalia’s aprons and cook. She and the mistress, laughing, watched him fry eggs, cook spaghetti, pizzas. He was a jokester, merry, and the mistress got along well with him. Why didn’t she marry Mr. Richard, ma’am? he’s so nice. Señora Hortensia laughed: he was married and had four
children
, Amalia.

Two months must have passed and once Mr. Richard arrived on Wednesday instead of Thursday. The mistress was shut up in the dark with her drink on the night table. Mr. Richard was frightened and called Amalia. Don’t carry on so, she reassured him, it wasn’t anything, it would go away, it was her medicine. But Mr. Richard was speaking English, red-faced from the surprise, and he gave the mistress some slaps that scratched her skin and the mistress looking at them as if they weren’t there. Mr. Richard went into the living room, came back, made a phone call, and finally he went out and brought back a doctor, who gave the mistress a shot. When the doctor left, Mr. Richard went into the kitchen and he looked like a shrimp: red all over, furious, he began to speak in Spanish and switched into English. Sir, what’s the matter, why was he shouting, why are you insulting me. He was waving his hands around and Amalia thought he’s going to hit me, he’s gone crazy. And at that moment the mistress appeared: what right have you got to raise your voice, what right have you got to shout at Amalia. She began to argue with him for having called the doctor, she shouted at him and he at her, and in the living room they kept on shouting, you shitty gringo, you shitty meddler, noise, a slap, and Amalia half-crazy picked up the frying pan and went in thinking he’s going to kill the pair of us. Mr. Richard had left and the mistress was insulting him from the door. Then she couldn’t hold back, she managed to lift up her apron, but it was no use, all the vomit fell on the floor. When she heard the retching, the mistress came running. Go to the bathroom, don’t be frightened, everything’s all right. Amalia rinsed out her mouth, went back to the living room with a wet cloth and a mop, and while she was cleaning she could hear the mistress laughing. There was no reason to get frightened, silly, she’d been meaning to get rid of that idiot for a long time and Amalia dying with shame. But all of a sudden the mistress was silent. Wait a minute, she got one of those little smiles she used to have in the old days, you sly little devil, come here, come here. She felt herself blushing, you’re not pregnant, are you? getting dizzy, no, ma’am, what a thing to think. But the mistress took her by the arm: you little ninny, of course you are. Not annoyed, but surprised, laughing. No, ma’am, how could she be, and she felt her knees shaking. She began to cry, oh, ma’am. You sly little devil, the mistress said lovingly. She brought her a glass of water, made her sit down, who would have thought it. Yes, she was, ma’am, all this time, she’d felt so bad: thirsty, nauseous, that feeling that her stomach was flying off somewhere. She was weeping loudly and the mistress was consoling her, why didn’t you tell me, silly, there wasn’t anything wrong with it, I’d have taken you to a doctor, you wouldn’t have worked so hard. She kept on crying and all of a sudden: because of him, ma’am, he said she’ll throw you out. Don’t you know me, silly, Señora Hortensia smiled, did you think I’d throw you out? And Amalia: that chauffeur, that Ambrosio you know, the one who brought you messages to San Miguel. He didn’t want anyone to know, he’s got his ways. She was weeping loudly and telling her, ma’am, he acted badly once before and now he was worse. Since he found out about the child he’s got very strange, he didn’t want to talk about it, Amalia would tell him she had vomiting attacks and he’d change the subject, Amalia it’s moving now and he I can’t spend time with you today I’ve got things to do. Now she only saw him for a short time on Sundays, just his duty, and the mistress was opening her eyes wide. Ambrosio? yes, he hadn’t taken her to the little room again, Fermín Zavala’s chauffeur? yes, he’d buy her
something
to eat and be on his way, you’ve been seeing him for years? and she was looking at her and shaking her head and saying who would have thought it. He was crazy, a maniac, his secrets all the time, ma’am, he was ashamed of her and now like the other time he was going to drop her. The mistress began to laugh and was shaking her head, who would have thought it. And then, serious now, do you love him, Amalia? Yes, he was her husband, if he knew now that I told you everything he’d leave her, ma’am, he might even kill me. She was crying and the mistress brought her another glass of water and hugged her: he’s not going to find out that you told me, he wasn’t going to leave her. They kept on talking and the mistress was calming her down, he’d never know, silly. Had she been to a doctor? No, you’re such a fool, Amalia. How many months has it been? Four, ma’am. The next day she herself took her to a doctor who examined her and said her pregnancy was fine. That night Miss Queta came by and the mistress in front of Amalia, this woman is pregnant, what do you think of that. Oh yes? Miss Queta said as if not surprised. And if you only knew who by, the mistress laughed, but when she saw Amalia’s face she put a finger to her mouth: she couldn’t tell, girl, it was a secret.

What was going to happen now? Nothing, she wasn’t going to fire her. The mistress had taken her to the doctor and wanted her to take care of herself, don’t do any bending, don’t do any waxing, don’t pick that up. The mistress was good, and she felt so relieved at having told
someone
. But what if Ambrosio found out? What difference does it make, since he’s going to leave you in any case, stupid girl. But he didn’t leave her, he showed up every Sunday. They talked, had something to eat, and Amalia thought everything we’d talked about sounds so false, so
insincere
. Because they talked about everything except that. They hadn’t gone back to the little room, they went walking or to the movies and at night he would take her to the Military Hospital stop. She could see he was worried, his look would be lost for moments, and she was thinking but why are you acting like that, had she asked him to marry her, maybe, or for money? One Sunday, coming out of the movies, she heard his curt voice: how do you feel, Amalia? All right, she said and looked at the ground, was he asking that because of the child? When he’s born you won’t be able to keep on working, she heard him say. And why not, Amalia said, what do you think I’m going to do, how am I going to live. And Ambrosio: I’ll have to take over. He didn’t say anything else until they said good-bye. I’ll take over? she thought darkly, rubbing her belly, him? Did he mean living together, the little house?

The fifth, the sixth month. She felt very heavy now, she had to pause in her work to catch her breath, in her cooking until the hot flashes passed. And one day the mistress said we’re moving. Where to, ma’am? To Jesús María, this apartment is too expensive. Some men came to look at the furniture and discuss prices, they came back with a small truck and took the chairs, the dining room table, the rug, the phonograph, the refrigerator, the range. Amalia felt a tightening in her chest the next day when she saw the three suitcases and the ten bundles that contained all of her mistress’s belongings. Why does it hurt you when she doesn’t care, don’t be stupid. But it did hurt, she was. Doesn’t it make you sad to be left with almost nothing, ma’am? No, Amalia, do you know why?
Because 
in a little while she was going to get out of this country. I’ll take you abroad with me if you want, Amalia, and she laughed. What was going on with her? Where did that good mood come from all of a sudden, those plans, the mistress’s urge to do things? Amalia grew cold when she saw the little apartment on General Garzón. Not that it was so small, but so old, so ugly! The combination living-dining room was tiny, the same as the bedroom, the kitchen and the bathroom looked like
something
out of a doll’s house. In the maid’s room, so narrow, there was only room for the cot. There was barely any furniture and it was so beat up. Did Miss Queta use to live here, ma’am? Yes, and Amalia couldn’t believe it, with the little white car she had and the elegant way she dressed, she’d thought Miss Queta had lived much better. And where had Miss Queta gone now? To an apartment in Pueblo Libre, Amalia.

After they moved to Jesús María, the mistress’s spirits and habits got better. She got up early, she ate better, she spent a good part of the day out, she talked. And she talked about her trip: Mexico, she was going to Mexico, Amalia, and she was never coming back. Miss Queta would come to see her and from the suffocating kitchen Amalia would hear them talking night and day about the same thing: she was going away, she was going to take a trip. It was true, Amalia thought, she’s going to leave, and she was sorry. Because of you I’m getting in a funny way, she said, touching her belly, I cry over everything, everything makes me sad, how silly you’ve made me get. And when was she taking her trip, ma’am? Soon, Amalia. But Miss Queta didn’t take her very seriously, Amalia heard her: stop daydreaming, Hortensia, don’t think everything’s going to work out so easily, you’re getting in deep. Something strange was going on, but what, what was it. She asked Miss Queta and she told her women are idiots, Amalia: he’s sending for her because he needs money, and that idiot of a Hortensia is going to bring it to him, and when he gets the money in his hands, he’s going to drop her again. Mr. Lucas, Miss Queta? Of course, who else. Amalia thought she was going to faint. She was going to him? He’d left her, he’d robbed her, and to him? But she couldn’t spend much time thinking about the mistress or anything else, she felt too sick. The first time she hadn’t felt that fatigue, that heaviness, so big: sleepy morning and afternoon and back from the store she had to lie down. She’d brought a stool into the kitchen and she cooked sitting down. How fat you’ve got, she thought.