You can find it in "Cuentos Completos" (complete tales), Alfaguara, October of 1997.
Enjoy.
Patron (by
abelardo castillo)
I
The old
Tomasina, the midwife told her, you’re pregnant, told her, and she felt an
obscure, sticky fear: carrying a creature inside, like a rolled bug, a son,
that probably one day was going to have the same hard eyes, the same harsh skin
of the old man.
Are you
sure Tomasina, she asked, but didn’t ask: agreed. Cause she knew already, she
always knew that the old man was going to get away with it. But m’ daughter,
the woman said, im being announcing more deliveries than colts your husband
has. She was looking at her. Is going to be happy Anteno, she added. And Paula
said Yes, claro. And even if she didn’t remember, one afternoon, four years
ago, she also said:
-
si,
claro.
That
afternoon she meant that she accepted being the woman of Don Antenor Dominguez,
the owner of La Cabriada: the master.
-
look
that is not obligation- the grandma of Paula had now the arms low, and you
could see from afar that yes, it was obligation.- Now that you know how Don
Anteno had always been with us, how good he was since your father is missing.
This doesn’t mean that your will is going to be made.
Without
wanting it, the words were ambiguous; but nobody in La Cabriada hesitated that HER WILL meant
always the same. And now, it meant that Paula, the daughter of a peon of the
old farm – dead, burnt in the barnyards trying to save the cows herd in that
fire in the 30s- could be the woman of the richest man of the county, cause a
moment ago, he entered the ranch and said:
-
I
wanna marry your grandaugther.
Paula was
outside, feeding the chikens; the old man passed by without looking at her.
- I fancied
having a son, you know – he pointed to the outside, the field, and his gesture
went over Paula that was in the patio, like if the gesture would be including
herm in fact, in the words he was going to pronounce after – Too much for the
government to keep it, and too mine. How old is the girl?
-
seventeen,
or sixteen – the grandma didn’t know exactly, didn’t now neither how she was
going to dissimulate the surprise, the joy, the wanting to give her, to sell
the grandaugther. She dried her hands with the apron.
He said:
-
What
you are looking at. You think its micri ? In the dances, she curves to the
front, close to the peones. She is not micri. And in the big house, she is
gonna be better than here. What you say.
-
Y…..i
don’t know Don Anteno. For me, there is no…..- and she couldn’t say that there
was no problem cause the words didn’t came out and then, everything was
decided. Five minutes after he came out, passed by Paula and said “go, the old
woman wants to talk”. She entered and said “si, claro”.
A few
months later, the priest married them. There was malice in the eyes that night,
in the patio of the old farm. Wine, asado and malice. Paula didn’t want to hear
the words that anticipate the fear and the pain.
- The old
man is like a wire.
Hard,
twisted like a wire, dancing that night, demonstrating that of an old man he
only had the age, tapping a malambo up until the peon said “its good, patron”
and he laughed, sweated, his tanned skin shining. Smelling of stallion.
Alone the
two of them, the sulky took them to the house. Almost fourteen km, alone, with
the entire sky on top and the stars and the silence. Suddenly, climbing a
knoll, like an apparition coming over them, the silhouette of the Cerro Negro
(black hill). Antenor said:
- Cerro
patron.
And it was
all he said.
Later,
after passing the last stall, Tomas, the keeper, wave with the lantern, from
afar. When they arrived to the house, Paula only saw a woman and dogs. The dogs
that jumped on her and backed away in front of the rooms, cause Antenor shut
them up, with one shout. Paula guessed that the woman, and nobody else, was
living there. By an obscure association she knew too, that she was the one
cooking for the old man: he asked her “they ate?” and pointed the dogs.
Now, from
the upper window of the huge house you see the pines, and the dogs sleeping.
Long the pines, afar.
- all I
want is woman in the house, and a son, a male in the field- Antenor pointed
outside, to the deep of the night holey of crickets; in some place a whinny was
heard- come, close.
She went
close.
- order-
she said.
-
Everything is gonna be for him, you understand? And also for you. But you have
to know that here, you do what I say, that I gained the right to dispose cause
of something – and he was pointing to the field, outside, beyond the
eucalyptus, behing the pines, until passing the hill, embracing waters and
horses and cows. He touched her waist, and she went stiff under the dress. – 28
years I had, when I gain it- he looked at her, like someone that penetrates the
eyes- its already more than 30.
Paula
endure the look. Far away, the whinny was heard again. He said:
- come to
bed.
II
He didn’t
consult her. He took her, the same way that you cut a fruit from the tree that
grows in the patio. She was there, inside the limits of his lands, on this side
of the poles and the spine wiring. One night – it was told- lot of years ago,
Antenor Dominguez jumped in the horse and galloped until the dawn. Not a minute
more. Cause the deal was “up until the dawn” and he was used to this manly
clauses, arbitrary, that were sealed with a handshake, or sometimes not even.
- from here
up until you reach- and the leader reached out the hand of the young man, and
the hand, that was huge and generous, got lost in the fingers of the other one
– you nail the stake and you return. You wire it, and its yours.
Nobody knew
exactly, what sort of favor was Antenor collecting that night; some, the more
suspicious, were ensuring that that the dead man at Roza’s place had something
to do with that deal: all the land you can reach in one night on the horse. And
he went out, without rush, without being so zonzo of burst the horse in ten
blocks. And when he nailed the stake, he started to be DON ANTENOR. And being
15, he was the one available to give to someone, if it was the case, the amount
of field he could reach in one night on the horse. Of course he never did it.
And now, 30 years already passed and he was used to understand that everything
on this side of the poles and the wiring, has his. That’s why he didn’t consult
her. And he cut her.
She was
looking at him. Looked like she was about to say something, but she didn’t.
Nobody, seeing her, would have understand this silence. The girl was big, wide
and powerful like an animal, a beautiful and wild beast, you could guess the
violence under the skin. The old man, on the other side, thin and harsh like a
frog.
- answer,
che! Answer, im saying!- He went closer. Paula was now feeling his breath in
her face, her smell of returning from the fields.
She said:
- no, Don
Anteno.
- So, what?
You are telling me then…..?
Obey is
easy, but a son doesn’t come, even if you are the most obedient woman, even if
you tolerate the smell of the man running through your body, his breath, like
if it would enter too, even if you stay quiet lying face up. One year and a
half, lying face up, old stallion. One year and a half feeling her own blood
tumultuous, galloping her body, trying to get out, trying and finding only the
ruthless hardness of the old man. Only once she saw him different, he seemed
different. She was crossing the stables, looking for him, and a peon appeared out
of the blue. Paula felt the hot, warm look following the curve of her back,
like in the dances, before. Then, she heard a crack, a dry hit, she turned and
Antenor was there, with the belt in the hand, and the peon was opening his
mouth like in a spasm, under the feet of the old man. Happened only that one
time. She felt a disputed woman….a woman, just that. And she didn’t care when
the old man said “what you were looking at, im gonna give you, dirty peon,
lookin at my woman…and you? What you are looking at? I told you already where I
want you to stay”
In the
house, of course. And he was saying this meanwhile a man, still on the floor,
was opening and closing his mouth in silence, meanwhile other men started to
surround the old man, ambiguously, with a look in their eyes that was closer to the threat than
to the respect. The old man was not looking at them:
-
what are you lookin for.
-
the grandma- she said. They told me she is not ok- and suddenly, she felt
alone, protected only by the man with the belt, the man surrounded by
aggressive peones, ambiguous, that now, after listening to the girl, stayed
still. And she understood that, without wanting it, was defending the old man.
-
what are you all looking at- the voice of Antenor, vivid. The old man always
knew when was the right time to nail a stake.
He looked at them, they dropped their heads. The foreman was coming from the
fields, shouting something. The old man looked at Paula, and again to the peon
that was getting up, shrunken like a beaten dog – if you are horny, as soon as
she gives me a son, she is yours.
III
At the
second year, he started to look at her with rancor. The look of being scammed.
That was it. Before, it had been impatience, the rush of an old man for having
a son and the surprise of not having it. The inquisitor eyes of the old man and
her, lowering her head with shame. After, was the irony. Or something more
barbarian, but somehow close to the irony cause it was making the girl fix her
sight in the plate of food, during lunch or dinner. Later, that insult in the
stall, like a hit with open hand, previewing the heavy, wide and real hand that
someday is gonna explode in her face, cause Paula always knew that the old man
was going to end up beating her. She knew it, the night that grandma died.
- forty
something, is the same.
Someone
said it in the funeral: forty something. The years of difference, must be.
Paula looked sideway to Antenor, and him, away, talking about some leathers,
guessed the look and understood what everybody was thinking: it’s a big
difference. And who knows, then it’s for sure the old man fault.
- we return
to the house- he said, suddenly.
That was
the first night that Paula smelled the gin. Then– up until that evening when a
bull came blowing and there were shouting and blood in the air and the old man
there, stiff- passed almost a year, and Antenor had always the same smell of
gin. A penetrating smell, wanting to get inside the veins of Paula, wanting to
get inside, with the old man. It must had been during one of those nights when
the oldman, brutally, was throwing her in the bed, possessing her with rancor,
with desperation. She knew she was pregnant, and got scared. Suddenly she
wanted to cry, not knowing why, if it was cause of the old man getting what he
wanted or cause of the brutal, heavy hand that was about to being open for her
now: wide hand of castration, of marking, blowing in her face, finally.
- ANSWER
ME! ANSWER ME, WHORE!
The slap
sat her in the bed; but she didn’t cry. She stayed there, still, hating the man
with big open eyes. Her face was burning.
- No- she
said looking at him- it must be a delay, just that. Like always.
- im gonna
give you a delay – Antenor was repeating the words, biting them- tomorrow im
gonna tell Fabio to take you downtown, to Tomasina’s. Im gonna give you a
delay….
For sure he
spied on her before. He was counting the days, maybe since the first night,
month after month, during 3 years. - tomorrow you wake up at dawn. Go to sleep
now.
A female
calf on her back, facing the sky, next day, in the field. Paula saw her from
the cart, when she was going downtown. The smell of burnt flesh and a huge “A”,
incandescent, burning the side: Paula recognize herself in the eyes of the
animal.
At the
return, Antenor was still there, with the peones. A tiny bull was mooing, lying
next to the feet of the man, nobody better than the old man to throw an animal
and take the horns, or fix it with one cut. Antenor called her, and she would
have love this not to happen. She would have love to go to the house, lock
herlself there, alone. But the old man called her and now, she was standing
next to him.
- make some
mate- something like a huge scissor, or
like pincers, adjusted to the beginning of the horns of the tiny bull. Paula
pursed her face. A crunch was heard and a long, eternal moo. And from the bone,
abrupt, a hot red stream – what do you shirr your face, you.
She gave
him the mate. Pregnant, the Tomasina said. He seemed to guess it. Paula was
graving the mate that he was returning, she wanted to avoid his eyes, but she
couldn’t.
- che –
said the oldman.
- order –
said Paula.
She was
looking at him again, looking his wide hands, full of sticky blood, she
remembered the slap the night after. They were bringing another bull, this time
huge, that was snorting and making the woods grind. The voice of Antenor,
meanwhile his hands were unleashing some ropes, made the question that Paula
was fearing. He made it in the same
moment that Paula shouted, that everybody shouted.
- What did
Tomasina said?
And
everybody, suddenly, screamed. The eyes of Antenor shrinked by looking at her,
but immediately opened again, huge, and meanwhile everybody was screaming, the
body of the old man flipped in the air, ran over from behind by the bull. There
was a huge mess of men and animals and the slip of the hooves in the soil.
In the
middle of the screaming, Paula was standing still with the mate in the hand,
looking absurdly the body of the old man, lying in the spiked wire, like a
cloth putted there to dry. And everything was so fast that over the mess, they
could hear the authoritarian voice of Antenor Dominguez - HELP ME, CARAJO!
IV
This order
and that question, were the last two things he said. Then he was there, on his
back in the bed, sweating, opening and closing the mouth without saying a word.
Broken, ripped, like if someone would had hit his column with an ax….he didn’t
lost sense up until later. Only then, the doctor recommended to take hhim
downtown, to the clinic. He said that the old man was not going to be able to
move again, neither talk. When Antenor was in condition to understand
something, Paula told him about the kid.
- you are
gonna have the kid – she announced- Tomasina told me.
A triumphal
sparkle lighted up the face of the old man: his eyes glowed and if he would
have being able to say something, maybe it would have been “thank you”, for the
first time in his life. Some time later, he doodled in a paper that he wanted
to return to the big house. The same evening, they took him.
No one came
to see him. The doctor and the foreman of La Cabriada , the old Fabio, were the
only two persons that Antenor was seeing. Except the woman that was helping
Paula in the kitchen –but that never entered the room of Antenor, Paula’s
order- nobody else was wondering in the house. The old Fabio was arriving at
sunset. He was coming and staying still, far away from the bed, without knowing
what to do…or what to say. Paula was offering mate, in silence.
And all of
a sudden, Paula transfigured. When Antenor asked to being taken to the upper
room, her face, beautiful and brutal, changed.
She was
speaking less than before. Her expression became harder – darker- like the one
of those who secretly, proposed themselves something. One night, Antenor seemed
to choke; Paula suspected that the old man was going to die there, suddenly,
and she feared. However there, between the sheets and the light of the lamp,
the face of Antenor Dominguez had something of desperation, obstinately alive.
He was not going to die up until the kid was born, both wanted the same. She
dropped a spoon of medicine in his trembling lips. Antenor moved his head
backwards. For a moment, his eyes went blank. The voice of Paula was a shout:
-YOU ARE GONNA HAVE THE KID, YOU HEAR?!- Antenor looked at her, the medicine
spilling over the sheets, from the corners of the smile. He agreed with the
head.
That same
night, everything began. Between her and Fabio, they took him to the upper
room. There, Don Antenor, semihanging with ropes from the ceiling, could contemplate
the fields. His field. Someday he doodled again some letters in a paper, and
Paula called some guys that opened a gap in the wall, expanding the window. The
old man smiled again, since then. He was spending hours, with lost eyes, in
silence, opening and closing the mouth like praying – or like repeating a name,
his name, growing again in the belly of Paula- looking at his land, far away up
until the tall pines, beyond the Black Hill. Against the sky.
One night
he choked again.
- You are
gonna have the kid- Paula said. He agreed again with the head.
With the
time passing, this dialogue became a habit. They were repeating it, every
night.
V
The field
and the swollen belly of the woman: the only two things he was seeing. The
doctor now, was only going if Paula –at the beginning often, then never again-
was calling him. And even Fabio, that once per week was going downtown to shop
the groceries that Paula was asking, ended up forgetting to go upstairs to see
the old man. Except the girl, nobody was going.
When the
belly of Paula was huge, tense under her clothes, the woman that was helping in
the kitchen never came back. The eyes of Antenor, inquisitive, looked at Paula.
- I fired
her – she said.
Then she
left, locking the door with a huge key (that Paula was having with her all the
time, hanging from her waist), and the old man had to get used to this, too.
The sound of the key turning in the antique lock was announcing the entrance of
Paula –her steps, everyday a little bit slower, ligther, being closer to the
date of birth- and finally the hand that was leaving the plate, hand that
Antenor didn’t dare to touch.
One day,
the look of the old man changed, too. Suddenly.
The silence
began to have a strange, threatening presence, that somehow was similar
to insanity. Yes, some night, when she was coming with the lamp, the old man
looked at her face: her static expression, infinite, maybe cause of being all
the time in silence, squeezing the teeth, biting a moan that was climbing her
from the waist, eating her from inside, this expression, petrified in the skin.
When he
heard the key turning and saw the long shade of Paula projecting in the floor,
before she said what the old man knew she was going to say, he sensed something
tremendous. Suddenly, a sensation never experienced before. It drilled his
brain, like a drop of acid: the fear. A solitary, powerful and incomunicable fear. He
wanted to not listen, not seeing her face, but he guessed the gesture, the
look, the rigid squeezing of the teeth. She said:
- You are gonna have the kid.
Antenor turned his head to the wall. Since then, he did it always.
VI
He was born in winter, was a boy. Paula had him right there. She didn’t
call Tomasina, the day before she told Fabio that she was not going to need
anything from downtown.
- is not even necessary for you to come this week- and since Fabio was
staring at her belly, she said – Tomorrow for sure Tomasina is coming. If you
see Pablo, send him over.-
Later, Pablo came and Paula said : - you can go, to see your girl. Fabio
is coming this week to take care of the house.
From the window upstairs, Antenor could see how Paula was left alone,
next to the cistern. Then she went inside the house and the old man didn’t see
her again, un until the next day, when she brought the kid.
Before, with his face against the wall, he could hear some choked moan,
and with the night coming, a long scream rumbling in the empty rooms; finally,
clear, the triumphal crying of a creature. Then, the old man started laughing
like crazy. He grabbed the ropes of the bed and stayed still, smiling. He
didn’t move up until way later.
When Paula entered the room, the old man was in the same position,
seated. She was bringing him alive, Antenor could hear the breathing of his
son. Paula went closer. From afar, with her arms extended and the body further
back, turning aside her face, she left the kid in the sheets, next to the old
man, that was not laughing anymore. The eyes of the man and the woman crossed
each other later. It was one second only: Paula stayed there, still, rigid in
front of the imperative eyes of Antenor. He released the ropes, his fingers
barely touched the skirt of Paula, and she moved back, with violence. She went
back a few steps, stayed in the corner of the room and looking at him (at the
beginning) with fear.
Then, not anymore.
Antenor was grotesquely lying on a side, for not smashing the kid he was
about to fall out of the bed. The kid started to cry. The old man opened his
mouth, tried to sit but he couldn’t reach the rope. For a second he stayed like
this, with an open mouth, in an inarticulate and fierce scream, some sort of
mute and impotent rattle, so wild however, that if he would have being able to
shout, it would have shook the foundations of the house. When she was going out
of the room, Paula turned her head.
Antenor was sat, again, with one holding the rope, with the other, the
creature.
In front of them, the window, the field, the Black Hill.
On her way out, Paula locked the door and before saddle the horse, she
threw it in the cistern.
