Irma Voth (14 page)

I know, I said, but she can’t go back.

And when I’m finished making the film then I’ll make sure that you and Aggie are safe.

How will you do that? I said.

Don’t worry, he said, I’ll find some way.

He’s not really going to call the police and newspapers in Mexico City, I said.

How do you know? said Diego.

And who cares if he does? I said. You’ll tell them you haven’t kidnapped her and that’ll be the end of it.

That’s not really the point, said Diego. He wants her back in his house. And if she doesn’t go home he’ll fuck up the production.

No, I said. She can’t go back.

Irma, said Diego, she has to go back. Please. I’m begging you now. Please tell her to go home.

I can’t tell her anything, I said. She doesn’t listen to me.

Then I’ll tell her, said Diego.

No! I said. Please don’t.

Diego and I stopped talking and stared at the line of books he had on the little shelf above his bed. We looked at those books beseechingly, as though they were UN peace workers sent to help us negotiate our impasse. I imagined them rearranging themselves on the shelf to spell out some cryptic answer, a solution, but they didn’t move an inch.

Tell my father that Aggie is sleeping right now and will go home in the morning, I said.

She’s in the kitchen playing cards with Elias, said Diego. Your father can see her through the window.

Tell him she’s sick with parasites, I said.

Irma, said Diego, she’s sitting in the kitchen and—

And that she can’t infect our mother or she’ll lose the baby. Worms will eat it from the in—

That’s ridiculous, Irma, said Diego. You know it is.

Tell him it’s like a quarantine.

He won’t believe me, said Diego.

Then tell him Oveja has to go with her, I said.

No, said Diego. We need Oveja here and besides, your father will just shoot him if Aggie brings him home.

You said we could live here with you, I said.

I know, said Diego. That was before.

Well, then I’m quitting, I said. I can’t work for you anymore. If you send Aggie home you’ll lose me too.

You have no place to go, said Diego. He looked at me kindly, steadily, like a cop who’s just busted a kid for a very minor offence, like it hurt him a little bit but the evidence was there and it was irrefutable.

I need to get paid, I said. I need to get my wages.

Yes, said Diego, that is correct. You’re right. Wilson will bring your money back from Mexico City in one or two days. I promise. I radioed José about it.

I got up and left Diego’s room and walked down the long hall and through the kitchen, past Aggie and Marijke and the others, and out into the yard to my father who was now standing by himself in the half-light, waiting. He was in the same spot. He could have moved over and leaned against the wall of the barn. He could have held his arms out as I approached him. He could have kept us all in Canada and shape-shifted with the times. He could have been a million things.

Let Aggie stay with me at my house tonight, I said. I need her to help me pack my things up and clean the stove and fridge and stuff before you change the locks. When we’re finished I’ll send her straight home. For good. And I won’t bother you again.

My father looked so tired. Daughters, I imagined him saying to himself. Who are these people?

You can do those things alone, he said.

But I can’t do them and the milking too and have it all done by the morning, I said.

I don’t need you to do the milking anymore, he said. I’ve arranged for Klaus Kroeker to do it from now on.

Well, I said. I could hear a few soft strains of cumbia playing in the house. The stars mocked me, even the puny one all on its own in Texas, four hours to the north.

I thought: I’ve run out of words. I have nothing. I’ve failed. My father was quiet, waiting. He could stand and wait it out, wear me down. He could stand forever like the
Tarahumara family on the side of the road. I could learn about this. I touched my forehead, the space between my eyes, the source, according to Marijke, of my energy and my light.

Please? I said. That was all I had, apparently, nothing but a dim flicker. Just the one low-beam request for mercy. I looked down at the ground. I covered my face with my hands. My eyes burned and tears fell. I got down on one knee, then the other, and prayed quietly at my father’s feet. When I was finished I opened my eyes and he was gone.

I need to use one of the trucks, I said.

Why? said Diego.

I’ll bring it back in an hour, I said.

Where are you going? said Diego. It’s very late.

To see a friend, I said.

Is Aggie going home? said Diego.

Yeah, I said. I’ll drop her off on the way.

I want to start shooting early in the morning, said Diego. Like at five a.m. We have to do as much as we can before everything goes to shit. Alfredo is giving me three more days before he walks. He says.

I know, I said. I’ll be back in time.

And Marijke is losing her mind, he said.

She’s fine, I said. She thinks she’s disappearing but that’s all normal, I think.

Aggie and Oveja and I were in my house, standing beside the kitchen counter, and Aggie was trying to get the tap to run but it wouldn’t.

Don’t worry about it, I said. He’s turned off the water. Go to the pump and fill up some buckets from the barn and put them in the back of the truck and then meet me in the grain shed.

Yeah, but what if—

Aggie, I said. I know it’s against your religion to do anything I tell you to do but you’re going to take a break from your religion, okay, and you’re going to do everything I tell you to do starting right now.

Are we in trouble? said Aggie.

Well, you know, yeah, I said. A little bit. Which is why.

Why what? she said.

Why I have a plan, I said. And then later on, in a week or so, you’ll be able to once again refuse to do some of the things I ask you to do.

All things? said Aggie.

Just a few, I said. Just to keep your soul from disintegrating. Okay? Please?

Aggie sighed heavily and Oveja stared mournfully at her, his eyes a well of deep concern. He was also a rebel, a fighter, and understood the significance of what I had asked her to do.

Let’s quickly eat something, I said.

There was some leftover shepherd’s pie in the fridge that wasn’t working anymore since the generator died and Aggie ate the meaty stuff at the bottom and I ate the top layer of potatoes.

Then we both went outside and Aggie went to the pump to get some water and I went to the barn and let out all the cows. I punched their rear ends and shouted at them and that got Oveja all worked up and he came running over and started growling and nipping and chasing the cows out into the yard and into the cornfields and onto the road. Aggie came back from the pump and put the pails of water in the back of the truck.

What the hell are you doing? she said.

Back the truck up to the grain shed, I said.

Why should—

Aggie! I said. Do it. Remember what I said?

I know but—

No, Aggie, you don’t understand. Right now you have to shut up and do everything I say.

I know but—

Aggie! My God! Are you fucking insane?

Fine! she said.

I ran to the shed and stood on a bale and started hauling Jorge’s boxes out of the rafters. Aggie backed the truck up to the shed and hit the corner of it with the bumper. I yelled at her to stop. She got out of the truck and came into the shed and I told her to start loading the boxes into the back.

What is this? she said.

Something for Carlito Wiebe, I said. Let’s go.

Wait, she said, let’s take Oveja.

No, I said. He’s running around with the cows. We’ll come back and get him after. And besides, Carlito has a dog too, and they’d just fight.

Carlito Wiebe was angry with us for waking him up in the middle of the night but then he saw what was going on and he became less angry. He took the boxes out of the back of the truck and brought them into his dingy little kitchen and piled them up on top of each other. He leaned on the boxes and said a bunch of things and I wanted him to hurry up and buy the stuff and give me the money so we could leave.

I don’t have enough on me right now, he said.

Well, how much do you have? I said.

I don’t know, he said, I’ll have to take a look.

He went off into another room and Aggie and I stood there. She was yawning. Off in the other room Carlito put on some kind of cowboy music and we heard water running for a minute.

Irma? she said. Are you a narco?

No, I said. Shhh.

Jorge’s gonna kill you, she said.

Nah, I said.

Carlito came back and said he could give me about thirty thousand pesos. I like that music, he said. Do you?

Yeah, said Aggie, it’s pretty good.

It’s a new band from Durango, said Carlito. The singer just got out of jail.

Jorge told me it was worth at least a million pesos, I told him.

He’s wrong, said Carlito. He was just talking big. I’m going back to bed if you’re not interested.

I’ll give you thirty thousand pesos’ worth, then, and take the rest back, I said.

No, Irma, said Carlito. I don’t mean to be a hard-ass but you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thirty thousand is. Besides what are you going to do with it? Carry it around with you in the back of that truck?

Aggie cleared her throat and I looked into her translucent eyes for a second and felt weakness leave my body like blood.

Nah, forget it, I said. I’ll find someone else. C’mon, Aggie, help me load this shit back into the truck. I yanked the back of her dress.

Hang on, said Carlito. Tell you what. I’ll give you forty thousand pesos. That’s a good deal.

Fuck off, Carlito, I said.

Fuck off, Carlito, said Aggie. We went into the yard and hopped back into the truck.

He’s coming outside, said Aggie. What if he shoots us?

That would solve so many problems, I said. I rolled my window down and pointed my pen flashlight into his eyes. He put his arm up to cover them and I turned it off.

Sorry, I said. I had to make sure it was you.

Irma, he said. I don’t mean to pry but what the heck are you doing?

I’m selling drugs! I said. Jesus Christ, man. What the hell do you think I’m doing?

Irma, said Aggie. You sound a tiny bit hysterical.

Does Jorge know you’re doing this? said Carlito. Did he send you?

No, he didn’t, okay? I said. Just, you know, whatever. Give me forty thousand then. I have to go.

Tell you what, said Carlito. I’ll give you fifty. But promise me you won’t tell anybody, especially Jorge, who you sold it to. And also, do you girls want a bag of oranges? We waited for Carlito to run into his house and out again with a big sack of oranges that he put into the back of the truck.

Danke schön,
I said.

Bitte,
he said. And may God be with you.

Thanks, Carlito, I said. And with you.

Count the money, I told Aggie.

No, she said. I’m afraid it won’t be the right amount.

Oh, okay, I said, you’re right. Never mind. I told Aggie what the next step was and she put her feet on the dash and said she’d like to make a comment if she could, something having to do with what she called the paucity of my business sense, but I said no. We flew back to our parents’ house and went running in to tell our father that the cows were loose, that Klaus Kroeker, the guy he’d hired to do the milking, must not have known how to close the gate properly. My father grabbed his gun from the rack in the kitchen and put on his boots and told me and Aggie to help him round them up. His face was burnt bright red from stubbornly standing in the sun all that day. I told him that we’d take the truck and go over to the south side of the field, near the broken crop-duster, and stop them there. It didn’t really make any sense but he didn’t seem to notice and he left, swearing and bleary-eyed.

We went into our parents’ bedroom looking for our mother and there she was with the top of her nightgown down and she was nursing a baby. We all stared at each other except for the baby who kept sucking and gurgling and then our mother said in a soft, quiet voice, girls, what are you doing here? What’s going on? And Aggie said you’ve had your baby! Nobody told us! Shhhh, said our mother. She was smiling. Come sit here with me, she said. And then we both went and lay down on either side of our mother and her new baby for a while and we touched the baby very gently so we wouldn’t disturb it from eating and I told my mother that we had some hard news.