Irma Voth (8 page)

After the others had left, Marijke went into the yard and threw up next to the pump. She washed her face and then stuck her whole head under the water and then took off her T-shirt and lay on the grass on her back with her breasts exposed to the sun and the wind and God. I lay down in the grass on my side with my back to her.

Marijke, I said, what kind of a Mennonite are you? I said it quietly and in Spanish. In fact, I may not have said it at all.

Irma, she said, do you have any real idea of what this movie is about?

Well, it’s about the meaning of life? I said. I mean not life, life, but some lives? That’s all I can think of. Leave-taking.

What did you say? she said.

Leave-taking, I said. I wasn’t sure how to use that word in a sentence. Our leave-taking from Canada was abrupt and permanent. Our poignant leave-taking left me breathless and … I wasn’t sure.

You miss Wilson, she said. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t see her. She put her hand on my back and I went stiff like a stillborn calf. I felt like I was being branded. I thought I’d start to cry.

No, I said, I miss Jorge.

When we first got married Jorge was at home all the time but then he went to his mom’s place in Chihuahua city one weekend to visit and he met some guys who offered him real money. All he’d have to do was store their boxes of
hierba
in our grain shed because we lived in the middle of nowhere but only a few hours from the border and it was all perfect, and Jorge said sure, that sounded good, all he’d be doing was storing it, and he had held my hands and told me it would be a great opportunity for us, that it might help us to make enough money to leave the campo so he wouldn’t have to work for nothing for my father anymore and he’d take care of me and we’d have babies and move away from here and get that boat we’d been talking about. And then he started bringing stuff back to our place.

I think Diego might want to sleep with me, she said.

What? I said. Why do you think that? You don’t even know what he’s saying.

I don’t have to know what he’s saying, she said.

Well, I said. I wouldn’t if I were you.

Why not? she said. What if I’m feeling lost and lonely?

Are you? I said.

Of course I am, Irma! she said. Look around. Can I talk to anybody but you? Do I have my husband and son here with me? Do I have friends? Do I know what I’m doing? Do I understand this story? Do I have anything to do but lie around and try to remember not to look directly at the thing that’s always looking at me?

No, I said. I guess not.

I’m trying not to let my anger bubble to the surface and infect my mood, she said. Have you ever stomped
down on a ceramic tile on your kitchen floor? It keeps popping up. I’m not going to sleep with him, don’t worry.

I’m not worried, I said.

My anger, I said to myself. I liked the sound of that. I needed something of my own, something I could keep. My anger. I’d embroider these words into my underwear. I felt like Frankenstein. I punched myself in the forehead. My mother thought I was retarded when I was a baby because I’d bite myself and pull my own hair. Well, whose hair was I supposed to pull? I’d ask her.

Marijke lit a cigarette and started humming.

Well, the tile just needs to be glued down, I said.

Hey, she said, do you mind asking Diego if it’s possible to get more leafy vegetables around here? I was looking at the whites of my eyes this morning and I think I’m developing anemia.

I turned around and looked deeply into the whites of her eyes and tried to detect a problem.

Then she told me she’d like to meet my family and I told her why that was pretty much impossible and then just at that moment as though we’d conjured her up like a dream Aggie was standing next to us with a suitcase and there we were, three Mennonite girls in an empty field, one bare-chested, one bewildered and one on the run.

Diego and the crew came roaring back into the yard in two trucks and Elias and Oveja ran over to us and Elias said we had to go shoot right then, immediately. Because the light, he said. And we had to bring Oveja with us for some reason
I couldn’t quite understand. Either because we would need protection or because he, Oveja, needed protection.

What did you say? said Aggie.

Who is this? said Elias. He smiled and kissed Aggie on the cheek.

Aggie, I said. My sister. This is Elias. He’s a cameraman. This is Marijke.

Did you come from the airport? said Elias. He pointed at her suitcase.

No. Just from over there, said Aggie. She pointed at her house.

Come with us, said Marijke. She put her T-shirt back on and grabbed Aggie’s suitcase. It’ll be fun.

No, I said, she has to go back.

No, I don’t, said Aggie.

Yeah, you do, I said.

Well, I’m not, she said.

Agatha, I said.

Irma, she said.

We rode in the back of the truck this time while Diego drove and had a money talk with one of the film’s producers, José. We could see their arms flying around in the cab while they talked. Elias told us that José had come from Mexico City with some concerns about the amount of money Diego was spending out here in Chihuahua. Diego was having to shell out dough like crazy to the various Mennonites he’d enlisted to help him realize his dream. Elias explained Diego’s rationale with the campo dwellers. This is what he says, said Elias. I understand and respect your religion’s stance on photography and
artificial images but I also believe that by making this film we can help to preserve your culture and prevent it from disappearing. This presented a conundrum that stopped the Mennonites in their argumentative tracks. Diego then added that he was willing to pay them for letting him shoot on their land, or in their house, or wherever it was that he wanted to shoot, and that got the Mennos nodding again and shortly thereafter the deal was done.

That’s what they’re talking about, said Elias. Diego is trying to explain to José the reason why the Mennonites are being truculent. No offence.

I had stopped listening, really, because now Aggie and I had started to argue.

Marijke and the crew smoked and stared politely into the desert pretending not to notice me and Aggie hissing at each other in the wind. She kept her hand on the handle of her suitcase but she turned her head away from me when I tried to talk to her.

So, where do you think you’re going to go? I said.

Don’t worry about it, she said.

Well, obviously I’m going to worry about it, I said. Are you a total moron or what?

Let’s enjoy the moment, Irma, she said. She was quoting Marijke. José and Diego were shouting and throwing cigarettes out the windows. A spark skittered off the metal and landed on Elias’s arm and he swore in Spanish,
puta
, and extinguished it with his spit. Trucks packed full of Mexican or Mennonite families were passing us and they were all waving and smiling or very determinedly looking away, like
Aggie when I tried to tell her that she was risking her life by leaving home.

I know, she said. So what. I didn’t know what to say then and wished that I smoked for real or that sparks would land on me.

Because the light, said Aggie.

What? I said.

Because the light, she said. What that guy said. She pointed at Elias who blew her a kiss. It’s funny, she said.

Stop taking my things, I said. I pointed at her ratty suitcase.

I’m returning it to you, she said.

We’re standing, lying, sitting in an empty field waiting for the rain. This time Aggie is with us, learning how to play Frisbee with Miguel and Elias, and apparently enjoying the moment as though it were her last. Oveja has now become her best friend thanks to a dozen zwieback she had in the suitcase. Alfredo has come here in his own truck, by himself, but he’s sulking and Diego is worried about him leaving before the rain comes. Alfredo says he is wasting his time and losing money that he could be making from his real job and that there’s so much stress at home because of this movie. Diego has taken me aside and asked me, again, to ask Marijke if she would spend more time with Alfredo. If maybe now she would agree to drive with Alfredo in his truck so that they can get to know each other and so that Alfredo won’t feel lonely and ignored.

I took Marijke aside to tell her what Diego had told me. I handed her my bottle of water.

He would like you to spend more time alone with Alfredo, I said.

Why? said Marijke.

To strengthen your relationship.

What relationship?

Your movie relationship.

That’s Diego’s job, she said. She drank the water that was left in the bottle and gave it back to me.

Diego jogged over to us. He looked worried. He was wearing white, gauzy pants that billowed out like sails when he ran. From a distance his head was a crow’s nest. He asked me if I had told Marijke what he had said about spending time with Alfredo.

Yes, I said, but she has reservations.

Please tell her that it’s important for the energy of the film, said Diego. Please tell her that when I see a beautiful fish I immediately have feelings for it. I wait until the last possible moment to cook it. And it’s that connection that makes the meal delicious.

Marijke, I said, Diego wants you to know that he sometimes has feelings for beautiful fish before he eats them and that makes them taste better.

Is he stoned? said Marijke.

Hang on, I said. I spoke to Diego in Spanish. Yeah, I said, she understands. But she doesn’t want to drive with
him because he’s always drunk and she’s not prepared to die.

Irma, said Diego, when I said we must all be prepared to die for this film, I didn’t mean in a car crash because of drunk driving. If that’s what you’re implying. Tell her I’ll talk to Alfredo about his drinking.

Well, I said. And she’s worried about having anemia. She needs more leafy vegetables.

We continued to wait in the field for rain. José and Diego played a game that involved slapping each other hard in the face. José seemed to be winning and Diego refused to give up. Why are they doing that? Aggie asked me.

Elias heated up some sausages on a filthy grill over an open fire. I taught Marijke how to make a type of kissing sound that would keep the rattlesnakes away when she went into the trees to pee. José and Diego ended their strange game with an embrace. The sun scorched us. Diego tried to get Marijke to rehearse a kiss with Alfredo and eventually became so angry with Alfredo’s clunky attempts that he grabbed Marijke and did it himself. Is that so difficult? he asked Alfredo.

Afterwards Marijke came up to me and asked me if I knew what she meant about Diego having the hots for her and I said yes. We sat on the ground and flipped through the pages of the script. It was clear that Diego had started to make things up along the way.

Aggie came to sit with us and had a look at the script too, and I asked her what she thought. I don’t understand all the Spanish, it’s a bit majestic, I guess, she said. I liked
the offhanded way she neutered words that were meant to be powerful. Then all the men started yelling at each other about the new Mexican president and the fraudulent election. The Zócalo in Mexico City was filled with thousands and thousands of protesters. They’ve been there for a week already, said Diego, and they refuse to budge. He said he thought it made more sense to wait for rain in the desert than for justice in Mexico City.

The clouds were moving around, bulging and darkening here and there but nothing else. It was getting late and I had to get Aggie home before my dad got back from the field or from town or wherever he was. She and I were still arguing. I told her that she was risking a lot by being out here with the film crew and that she was being foolish. I told her how much her brazenness bugged me because she didn’t have a clue what she was doing.

Well, why are you here then, Irma? she said. You’re a hypocrite.

I’m here because it’s a job and I have no money and no family. Nothing! I said. I have nothing to lose. You should go home and stay away from me.

I was starting to sound like Jorge.

You can’t tell me what to do, she said.

You’re an idiot, I said. You have no idea.

Most of the crew had fallen asleep on a tarp, surrounded by equipment and empty water bottles, and Diego and José were talking quietly in the truck. I knocked on the window.

I need to get Aggie home, I said.

Diego got out of the truck and stood there squinting
up at the sky. We’ll give up on today, he said. I thought it was the rainy season now.

It’s supposed to be, I said.

Do you think God is punishing us? said Diego.

Why, what did you do? I said. He told me he was just joking.

Will you be able to make a meal for the crew when we get back? he said. A woman from the village was supposed to come but she took my money and never came. Her brother told me she went to America. Or she is dead. I’m not sure.

I’m not sure I have time, I said. Aggie has to get back and I’m worried—

Now you’re worried, said Diego. First Marijke, now you. You girls are professional worriers, I’ll say this.

I’m not going back, Irm, so don’t worry your pretty little head over me, said Aggie.

You don’t know that expression, I said.

You don’t know everything, said Aggie.

We’ll stop and buy some food and it’ll be green and good for your anemia, said Diego.

Not mine, Marijke’s, I said.

Okay, said Diego. I could make it myself but José and I have paperwork to fill out and the guys are still feeling a little sick. Plus, I promised in their contracts there would be meals and I’m worried about a mutiny. Please, Irma, I really need your help.

I didn’t say anything. I waited to feel that old familiar pain in my chest, my cue to continue.

I’ll do it, said Aggie.

No, you won’t, I said. She can’t.

Why not? said Diego. It makes no difference, you or her.

I want to do it, said Aggie.

No, I’ll do it, I said. It’s fine. No sweat.

Aggie started to say something to me in German, but Diego cut her off in English. You and Aggie can sit in the cab with José and me, said Diego. Marijke will drive with Alfredo.