Afterlife - Julia Alvarez Page 0,6
novia has already crossed over. Estela has encountered some problem with being released. The coyotes have refused to put her on a bus to Burlington.
A bus cross-country by herself? Antonia questions. Does she speak English? Does she have her passport? What if she’s apprehended? Furthermore, does la novia have her parents’ consent? Does el patrón know?
La novia does not speak English. She has no pasaporte. She has only her mother and little sisters, the father died, no brothers to protect her. The coyotes would bring her door-to-door for more money than Mario has. Many have made the journey safely by bus. Mario answers every one of la do?ita’s questions readily. But then he comes to a full stop. Here be his dragon: el patrón. Se?or Roger is a hard man, Mario offers, watching to see if Antonia will agree before he goes on to admit that el patrón does not know Mario’s girlfriend will be arriving at his doorstep to live with him.
Antonia looks back at the young face, the high cheekbones, the carved features. Eighteen, he’s told her, no older than her first-years at the college. But although he has the slender body of a boy, Mario’s eyes are those of an old soul, the brown iris almost filling the socket, only a thin white rim showing, like the sun right before a full eclipse. If she continues to stare at them, will she go blind? And small as he is, Mario could kill her, cut her throat. The disquieting thought surprises her. More and more in her post-Sam life, things previously not dangerous now seem potentially so. No wonder all religions urge followers to care for the widow. Widow. What a name. Girlfriend, novia, esposa, viuda.
And when are you planning to tell el patrón?
Mario bows his head like a penitent boy. Maybe la do?ita can help him with this?
Why would el patrón listen to me? I don’t know him. We’re just neighbors. Antonia can hear her mother’s scolding voice coming out of her mouth. She doesn’t want to berate him. He’s worried enough. But she can’t seem to help herself, some bully impulse to keep swinging even when your victim is down. And if I ask el patrón, and he says no, what are you going to do then, eh?
Mario doesn’t have to reply; what he is thinking is written all over his face. He now has seen the wing with its three bedrooms: her study, the master bedroom, and a guest room. Perhaps that’s what he was doing by taking the liberty? Checking out the accommodations for the girlfriend.
Anything else you need? she made the mistake of asking. In a similar situation, wouldn’t anyone ask as much? A Sam question. If there were any dinner parties coming up—not the obligation suppers friends and acquaintances have been inviting her to, but a freewheeling dinner party with sparkling conversation—she would bring up the question. Who do we ask for help when we’ve run out of options?
She hands the phone to Mario, then exits the room, not only out of respect for their privacy. She cannot bear to hear the happy voices of lovers reconnecting.
Do?ita, Mario calls, toward the bedroom wing where she has disappeared. Mi novia quiere darle las gracias.
Thank her for what? Antonia hasn’t agreed to anything. But how can she refuse just talking to the girl? What is the minimum one owes another? Another dinner-party question.
Do?ita, muchísimas gracias. The girl sounds timid, scared, her voice just above a whisper. And yet she has been gutsy enough to make the perilous journey north from the southern tip of Mexico—where Mario has told her he is from—the whole length of the country, over the border, through the desert, braving la migra, dubious smugglers, fellow travelers. All the dragons.
Gracias, gracias, the girl keeps saying. Her gratitude is hard to bear. De nada, Antonia replies, a more accurate rejoinder than you’re welcome: she has done nothing to be thanked for.
She considers sending Mario back on foot, across the back pasture, by the tree line, safely out of sight of the road. This might give him the message that she is not available for further favors: making arrangements for the bus ticket, picking up Estela in Burlington, getting her some warm clothes.
But Antonia cedes, as she always did with Sam, the good cop, who seems to be resurrecting inside her. A part of you dies with them, Antonia now knows, but wait awhile, and they return, bringing you back with them. So,