Afterlife - Julia Alvarez Page 0,7

is this all his afterlife will amount to? Sam-inspired deeds from the people who loved him?

She drives Mario home, and once there, decides to get it over and done with. She knocks at Roger’s back door, as she has never seen anyone come in or go out the front door in her thirty years on this road. When he doesn’t answer, Antonia is relieved. She has done her part.

Mario is waiting for her beside the car. He looks relieved as well. Maybe it is best if la do?ita talks to el patrón after the girlfriend arrives?

And where will you put her if he says no? Antonia asks crossly.

Just then, Roger comes out from the barn, looking annoyed, too. Maybe he’s had an altercation with one of his cows or an old piece of machinery quit or José broke it—or does Roger even need a reason? Seems he’s always cranky. The old Vermonter. Makes it easier when you can pin someone down as a type with a ringtone or label. What type would Sam be? Have been, she corrects herself. And she? The bereft widow? The whiny widow? The wise widow? What kind of widow does she want to be?

Before she’s done conveying Mario’s request, Roger is shaking his head. No, he says, n-o, same word in Spanish as in English. He glares at Mario, who takes a step back as if the fire keeping him warm has suddenly flared up.

Got enough trouble with the two of them. He better start packing.

She doesn’t have to translate for Mario. It’s quite clear what Roger is saying. A hard man, el patrón, Mario said so himself.

But the girl is already on her way, Antonia pleads.

That’s his problem, Roger says, red-faced. I didn’t give you permission, he hollers at the cowering Mario. His nostrils flare, he lurches forward, his forehead lowered like a bull going after the red cape. It occurs to Antonia how much certain people remind her of animals. If he doesn’t calm down, Roger might end up with a heart attack. What if Antonia has to drive him over to the ER? When did life become so fraught? Pre or post Sam’s passing?

Roger stomps off toward the trailer. What’s he planning to do? Throw all of Mario’s things out in the yard?

Tell el patrón that I will find her another accommodation. Mario pleads. Por favor.

Roger! Antonia calls, and when he doesn’t stop, she runs after him. Mario will find her another place.

Roger swivels on the spot, taking Antonia’s measure, in case she has a trick up her sleeve. Where’s he going to put her? Your house?

It’s Antonia’s turn to shake her head. I can’t handle something like this right now. I’ve got enough troubles.

Roger stares back at her, his eyes small and mean in their puffy eye sockets, like the eyes of the pigs he fattens and slaughters and sells at his honor store. People drive out from town to buy his bacon and pork chops, his Thanksgiving turkeys, the fresh eggs he’s not allowed to say are organic because he’d have to pay some company to investigate and certify it is so.

You’re the ones always saying everybody’s welcome. Roger points at Antonia. He must mean Sam. A few years back Roger posted a sign by his mailbox, Take Back Vermont. No use pointing out the irony: he’s now hiring Mexicans. People can be full of paradoxes when their own pockets are affected. Sam retaliated with his own, Take Vermont Forward. Needless to say, the two neighbors did not see eye to eye.

Dr. Sawyer always was the bleeding heart, Roger indicts Sam now.

Antonia feels the anger rising inside her. The man has no delicacy. Maybe no one’s told him that Sam died of an aortic aneurysm? In spite of her efforts, the big wave hits, the anger turns to tears, soul-gouging sobs of someone who has been holding back her sadness, her fears for months. Both Roger and Mario come to her, one at each arm, as if she is too weak to hold herself up.

No need to start bawling, the farmer says gruffly. The girlfriend can stay, a week tops. Just a week, he adds, when her face lights up with relief. He scowls with the exertion of drawing this kindness out from deep inside him. A miracle that these feelings persist in his hard heart. Goes to show, she or Sam would have later commented to each other. Roger’s not as much a type as we thought.

We shall see.