The Witch's Market (8 page)

I told them what had happened and that Alfredo Alfrenso was still basically a stranger to me.

“He is a stranger to everyone.” Cecily's statement came as a surprise.

“You know him?'

“Ha, everyone knows him, but he doesn't know anyone!”

I didn't know how to respond to this, so I changed the subject. “Why do you live so close to Alfrenso's castle?”

“Maybe I'll tell you later. When the time is right.”

I repeated my intention to leave and this time they made no effort to dissuade me but invited me to visit again anytime I wanted.

“Anyway, maybe we'll see each other at the Witches' Market. I am sure it is our destiny to meet. You can teach us some of your Chinese witchcraft,” Cecily added.

Both Angie and Mimi chimed in as they waved good-bye. “Yes, teach us Chinese witchcraft!”

 

The next day I slept restlessly, dreaming of being trapped in a deep, dark hole. I woke up quite late. I wondered if I was turning into a night person. It seemed that I was still tired from the ritual with the witches in Cecily's underground home. Instead of going to the kitchen for breakfast, I stayed in my room to write down my encounter with the witches while it was still fresh in my mind. Just when I finished writing, there was a quiet knock on the door. I called for Maria to come in.

Once she entered my room, Maria said, “Señor Alfrenso has returned early and will have a big party this evening. He hopes you will join him and his guests at the ball. I didn't want to wake you before since you were so soundly asleep. But señor says that his guests will be very pleased to meet his beautiful young lady from America.”

“A ball? But I don't have a decent dress to wear!”

“No worry. We have many dresses here. Come and I will show you.”

I followed the housekeeper down long corridors, past cavernous empty rooms, and around corners until I had no idea where I was. We finally entered a small room that clearly served as a wardrobe. One wall was covered with drawers and shelves, the others had long racks from which hung a multitude of gowns and dresses. Except in a department store, I had never seen such a large assembly of women's clothes in my life. And in the home of a bachelor. I was already confused by all the twists and turns that had brought us to this section of the castle and began to have a headache.

As I massaged my temples, Maria pulled open a huge closet revealing row upon row of silk evening gowns in a rainbow of colors, trimmed with lace and adorned with beads, pearls, and sequins. Styles varied: sleeveless, off the shoulder, plunging neckline, bare back, bare midriff.

Tucked into cubbyholes were matching accessories such as shawls, handbags, and shoes. There was no jewelry to be seen, which I guessed was because it was locked away somewhere.

Of course I was dying to know whose clothes these were, so I asked Maria, “Did these belong to Señora Alfrenso?”

Maria avoided my question, and instead said, “You can choose whatever you want to wear for the evening.”

The immense collection of clothes made me more eager than ever to find out more about Alfredo's wife. Hoping to get Maria to tell me more about her master's wife, I said, “She must have been very beautiful and had many parties to wear all these gowns.”

Maria's only reply was, “Yes, very beautiful and she loved parties.”

The few days I'd been here, I hadn't seen any other woman besides Maria. So where was Mrs. Alfrenso? Was she really dead? Or had she tired of her extravagant existence in this non-place and absconded, perhaps to the bright lights of a sophisticated city like Barcelona. I hoped she'd simply escaped, otherwise I would be wearing a dead woman's dress for her husband's party. Was I about to play a role in this man's perverse fantasy involving his absent wife? Suddenly I wanted no part of this strange household, nor the fancy ball at which I would be a guest.

While I was still surveying the dresses, Maria pulled one out and handed it to me. It was rose colored, with white lace trim, a little young for me but still a very pretty dress.

“Señorita Eileen, this one is perfect for you.”

When I looked at it more closely I realized that the neckline plunged a lot lower than I was comfortable with. I never thought of myself as prim, but not as loose either. What would the men at the ball think of me?

Seeing me hesitate, Maria said, “I know all these dresses. Believe me, this one is perfect for you. No need to look more. It's begging for you to wear it.”

“I'm afraid it's too long.”

“I can size it quickly.”

“And the shoes are too big.”

This time she laughed. “I'll just stuff them with a little tissue paper.”

“Can you also sew up two or three inches of the neckline?”

“Don't worry about that. Please try it on and then I can make alterations.”

Fortunately when I tried on the dress it almost fit. The neckline was low, exposing quite a bit of breast. But the bodice was loose; Señora Alfrenso must have been a busty woman. Maria took me in front of a gilded mirror, put a few pins on the dress's hem, and then made a few measurements with a tape. After that, she suggested I relax in my room while she worked on the dress.

I spent the afternoon in my room writing notes for my book and napping. At six, Maria reappeared and helped me wash my hair, apply my makeup, and fit myself into the dress. It left my shoulders bare and fit perfectly around my waist, but Maria had not kept her promise to sew up the low-cut neckline, so I stepped into the ballroom with more skin showing than I'd wanted.

9

The Ball

T
he dust-covered and run-down ballroom had undergone an amazing transformation since I'd first seen it. Help must have been hired to clean and decorate it while I'd been away with the old man and the witches. Now, instead of looking like a gloomy-faced first wife, the room shone and glittered like a beautiful, newly favored concubine!

Small lightbulbs dangled from the high ceiling and perched on walls like glowing vines. High on the ceiling, more lights were blinking against a dark purple background, as if the ballroom were open to the stars.

Elegantly dressed couples were already seated at small, round tables, chatting, sipping wine, and drawing on cigarettes. Two musicians played animatedly, resurrecting the harp and piano that must have lain moribund for months, if not years. Bejeweled women were either talking to tuxedoed men or twirling with them on the polished dance floor to the enticing rhythms. The intoxicating tones of the instruments under the shimmering lights had turned the previously empty chamber into a dreamscape. I felt that I was now living in a fairy tale. Was I to be the princess for whom the prince was searching?

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses and I helped myself to one. The liquid was sweet, but the bubbles bit at my tongue. I wondered why Alfredo was now hosting this lavish party in his ballroom, which had lain fallow for so many years.

I saw that Alfredo had spotted me and was approaching from across the crowded room. He smiled enigmatically as he surveyed the scene he had created along with his hired help. Suddenly this empty castle seemed to remember its decadent past, one I was curious to know about.

The castle's owner, imposing in a crimson silk tuxedo jacket, lifted my hand and kissed it, then clinked his glass with mine. “Eileen, you look absolutely gorgeous!”

“Thanks, Alfredo.” I was about to return his compliment by saying, “You look handsome too,” but swallowed my words, lest they be misunderstood.

“Maria told me you spent some time away from the castle—was everything okay?”

I nodded as he extended his hand.

“May I?” he asked.

I noticed that all eyes were on us as the castle owner led his exotic guest onto the dance floor. I felt like I was impersonating his wife by wearing her designer dress and shoes. I started to wonder if it was possible that he'd planned the ball just for me.

My host didn't say much as we danced, but rather focused on swinging and twirling me with elegantly sensuous movements. As Alfredo pressed me closer against him, I was aware of his subtle cologne. He was aware of me, too, particularly the plunging neckline that Maria had somehow forgotten to fix. Did she intend to aid him in seducing me? It seemed likely. But while I was enjoying dancing in the exotic atmosphere of the ball, I had no wish to share his bed.

While he was quite different from my Ivan, I did not like where romance with Alfredo would lead. I appreciated his European poise and aristocratic bearing, which were quite unlike Ivan's aggressive American manner. But it seemed to me that Alfredo, no longer needing to be ambitious, was becoming melancholic in his later years. I felt I was too young to share someone else's decline.

Despite his world-weary demeanor, I sensed a relentlessness in Alfredo. Perhaps a long ago trauma had introduced some compassion into his nature. But I did not want to count on that. Ivan might learn compassion someday, but for now he was totally focused on his own success. I hoped to find a man who was capable, but kind, not a calculating, moneymaking machine.

Ivan must have hurt a lot of people—colleagues, associates, partners, clients, even friends—on his way up. I never asked him about his business. Not only that I was not interested, but I feared I'd see a different Ivan, one even worse than I'd imagined. Was he completely ruthless, not hesitating to harm others if it would bring him an extra buck? I just did not want to be around that sort of thing.

I thought of the famous Chinese saying, “The path to a general's victory is paved with ten thousand skeletons.”

Another one: “The winner of a battle stands amidst corpses begging at the Gate of Hell.”

But now I was far away from it all, so I pushed thoughts of Ivan and my life in America out of my mind and glanced around at the other couples on the dance floor. In the dim light it was a sea of movement, limbs coming and going rhythmically like waves on the beach.

I remembered the novelist Cheung Ailing's famous line: “Dancing is but civilized wantonness.” Underneath all this beauty and glamour were greed and lust. Sex and money. It was pretty obvious that my host was expecting the former.

His gentle voice rose next to my ear. “Eileen, what are you thinking about?”

“I'm thinking how wonderful this room is and how beautiful your guests are. Do you hold parties like this often?”

“Oh no. This is something special to welcome you.”

“But, Alfredo, we hardly know each other!”

“Don't worry. I feel as if I've known you for a long time. I think God brought you to my castle for a reason.”

I had nothing to say to this. I certainly didn't come here to sleep with him. I did enjoy his company, but that was it. The music stopped and Alfredo took my hand and led me back toward the tables.

Suddenly a woman's harsh voice called out, “Señor Alfrenso, how are you doing?”

My host looked shocked when his eyes landed on a late-fiftyish woman wearing elaborate makeup that was trying to hide the fact that she was past her peak. Her garish purple gown revealed even more of her breasts than mine did.

“How did you get in here?” Alfredo asked with irritation in his voice.

“Relax, Alfredo,” the woman said, “I'm as good as you at going in and out of places. . . .” She waved her red-nailed hand. “Please sit with me for a minute.” She cast me a curious glance. “Your exotic friend too.”

Reluctantly, Alfredo pulled out a chair for me.

After we sat, the woman turned to me. “I'm Sabrina Sanchez. Alfredo and I are old friends. Sometimes enemies, too, hahaha!” She then gestured to a young, bland-looking man next to her. “This is Diego, my new friend.”

Sabrina turned to Alfredo. “When did you meet such a pretty
young
woman?”

“This is Eileen Chen from America. She's a professor of anthropology.”

Our host looked proud when introducing me. But then he leaned toward Sabrina, not bothering to hide his anger, and simply said, “Now leave me alone.”

Sabrina smiled, taking out an ivory holder into which she inserted a cigarette. Her young friend immediately lit it for her. She inhaled deeply, then breathed out smoke like strokes of agonized calligraphy.

After her nicotine hit, she said, “Haven't I done that for twenty years? We can chat and catch up on things.”

My host patted my hand as if to reassure me that this woman would not be a problem. He turned to his apparently uninvited guest. “All right, Sabrina, what do you want to talk about?”

Even though Sabrina was obviously intruding, I felt instant pity for her. She might be the same age as Alfredo, but in looks they were many years apart. There is a Chinese saying that states, “The setting sun is beautiful, but twilight is brief.” Sabrina was clearly in her twilight—try as she might to conceal it.

Sabrina cast Alfredo a sexy smile. “Come on, Al, how about a dance for old time's sake?”

Before Alfredo could refuse, Sabrina stood up and took his arm. So as to not embarrass her, he had no choice but to be led to the dance floor. Diego eyed his partner stoically as she pressed her half-exposed, busty chest against Alfredo's. Eyes fell on them as they began to move. Sabrina clung on to Alfredo as if he were a branch floating on turbulent waves.

After watching the pair for a few moments, Diego turned to me, shaking his head. “My friend likes men.”

I didn't quite know how to respond, so I smiled. “How long have you been together?”

“Not long. We met in a bar. Sabrina says she likes bars because she can get drunk and forget her sadness. She also says that a sad woman never plans, because it's useless.”

“Hmmm, so, do you . . . try to comfort her?”

I immediately regretted asking such an insinuating question. What Sabrina and Diego did—especially behind doors—was really none of my, or anyone's, business.

“I believe she's inconsolable. I guess something very bad happened to her.”

“Did she tell you what?” Now my curiosity was piqued.

He shook his head. “I'm just a passerby in her life, and I'm sure she's had many like me. Maybe someday she'll tell you about herself.”

During the ensuing silence, I quietly sipped my champagne and watched Sabrina and Alfredo dancing among the other guests. There was some strange chemistry between the two. While Alfredo looked awkward and uncomfortable, Sabrina danced with abandon. She pressed her breasts against him, seemingly trying to both excite and annoy him. Alfredo was definitely annoyed, but seemed unable or unwilling to extricate himself from her grasp. He didn't look very happy, but it was pretty obvious that he was excited also, even if it was against his will.

Finally the music stopped and Sabrina dragged a reluctant Alfredo back to our table. As they sat down, Sabrina waved her many-ringed fingers.

“Why don't you two gentlemen go ask other ladies to dance? I'd like to talk to Eileen.”

This was a strange request since I didn't know her, even Alfredo, really. Maybe this bluntness was a Spanish trait.

To my surprise, Alfredo went along, perhaps anxious to avoid a scene at his own party. I wasn't sorry at this interruption because it seemed that Sabrina would be the person to finally tell me about my enigmatic host's past.