a beard.”
“You talked to her?”
“I went to see her. That’s how I knew you had a guest.”
He was correct on the point of the doctor’s youth, but she shook her head. “What does his age have to do with anything?” she replied.
“I’m not about to listen to a boy who graduated from medical school a few months ago.”
“Then why did you tell me to bring him here?”
He looked her up and down. “I did not. You insisted. Just as you are insisting on having this extremely dull conversation.”
He made to leave, but this time she caught his arm, forcing him to turn and face her again. His eyes were very cold, very blue, but a stray beam of light hit them. Gold, they looked for a flickering second, before he inclined his head and the effect passed.
“Well, then I insist, no, I demand, that you take her back to Mexico City,” she said. Her attempt at diplomacy was a failure and they both knew it, so she might as well speak openly. “This silly, creaky old house is no good for her. Must I—”
“You are not going to change my mind,” he said, interrupting her, “and in the end she’s my wife.”
“She’s my cousin.”
Her hand was still on his arm. Carefully, he took hold of her fingers and pried them loose of his jacket’s sleeve, pausing for a second to look down at her hands, as if examining the length of her fingers or the shape of her nails.
“I know. I also know you don’t like it here, and if you are itching to get back to your home and away from this ‘creaky’ house, you’re welcome to it.”
“Are you throwing me out now?”
“No. But you don’t give the orders around here. We’ll be fine as long as you remember this,” he said.
“You’re rude.”
“I doubt it.”
“I should go right away.”
Throughout this whole conversation his voice had remained level, which she found very infuriating, just as she despised the smirk that marked his face. He was civil and yet disdainful.
“Maybe. But I don’t think you will. I think it’s in your nature to stay. It’s the dutiful pull of blood, of family. I can respect that.”
“Maybe it’s in my nature not to back down.”
“I believe you are correct. Don’t bear me a grudge, Noemí. You’ll see this is the best course.”
“I thought we had a truce,” she told him.
“That would imply we’ve been at war. Would you say that?”
“No.”
“Then everything is fine,” he concluded and walked out of the greenhouse.
He had a way of parrying her words that was maddening. She could finally understand why her father had been so irritated by Virgil’s correspondence. She could imagine the letters he wrote, filled with sentences that feinted and amounted to an irritating nothing.
She shoved a pot from atop the table. It broke with a resounding crash, spilling earth upon the floor. At once she regretted the gesture. She could smash all the crockery, it would do her no good. Noemí knelt down, trying to see if the damage might be fixed, grabbing pieces of ceramic and seeing how they fit together, but it was impossible.
Damn it and damn it again. She pushed the pieces away with her foot, under the table.
Of course he had a point. Catalina was his wife, and he was the one who could make choices for her. Why, Mexican women couldn’t even vote. What could Noemí say? What could she do in such a situation? Perhaps it would be best if her father intervened. If he came down here. A man would command more respect. But no, it was as she’d said: she wasn’t going to back down.
Very well. Then she must remain for a while longer. If Virgil couldn’t be persuaded to assist her, maybe the loathsome patriarch of the Doyle family might rule in her favor. She might be able to drag Francis onto her side of the court, she suspected that. Most of all she felt like leaving now would be betraying Catalina.
Noemí stood up, and as she did she noticed that there was a mosaic on the floor. Stepping back and looking around the room she realized it circled the table. It was another of the snake symbols. The ouroboros slowly devouring itself. The infinite, above us, and below, as Virgil had said.
9
On Tuesday, Noemí ventured into the cemetery. Catalina had inspired this second trip—“You must look in the cemetery,” she’d said—but Noemí did not expect to find anything interesting there. She