When the Elephants Dance (10 page)

She did not seem in shock. “Tearso must attend many functions because of his family’s social circles. In these functions he must escort young women. It is difficult to explain, but—”

She never finished her words. There was a knock on the door. Tearso strode in. He had in his hands two boxes wrapped in pale blue, with yellow ribbons. He was smiling so honestly with affection for her that my conclusions wavered. His expression changed when he saw me.

Esmeralda stood behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Tearso, you know Carlito. He lives next door.”

“Yes,” Tearso began. “Carlito, I wanted to ask you—”

“I must give my father his medicine. Thank you, Miss Esmeralda.” I scrambled out of my seat and hobbled out the door before they could speak any more.

Esmeralda called out, “Come visit again, Carlos.”

I went straight to my room to listen to what they said next.

“I saw him today at the San Lupe gathering,” Tearso began. He laid her presents carefully on her wooden table.

“Yes, he told me.”

“I was with Catalina Marquez. I was her escort.” Tearso’s voice was urgent.

“Yes, that is what I tried to tell him.”

“She means nothing to me, Esmeralda. I do these things for my parents. You know that.”

“Of course I do.”

And that was that. She was so blind with her love for him. What I said to her was already forgotten, but what she said to me, about my father, was like a little seed. I paid no attention to it at first. What was foremost on my mind was that I save her from any lies. I did not realize until then how pressing it was that she find out the truth about Tearso, that I find out the truth. It could have been as he said, escorting a woman from his social circle for his parents’ benefit. Maybe I was the one conjuring things in my head. My aunt had accused me of this often enough. So I went to the only person I could think of to clear the situation. I went in search of Catalina Marquez.

T
HAT
T
UESDAY EVENING
was already long in years. The occupants of our house were quickly falling off to sleep, yet I felt an urgency. Looking back now, I can see that I was frantically setting in motion what I feared most. I was setting
in motion all the reasons for Esmeralda’s disappearance. But how could I know this? I only knew that I could not bear to sit and listen to Tearso’s fraudulent voice and Esmeralda’s quiet murmurings.

Catalina’s home was near the San Lupe house. I acquired this information in the guise of messenger boy. I went into town, to a tavern I knew. I asked the room in general where the Marquez home was. In the corner, a large man was hovering over a smaller man. They appeared to be quarreling over a debt. The smaller man appeared very frightened. This larger man turned at my mention of the Marquez name and asked, “Who needs to know?”

“I do, sir. I have a message for her.”

“Well, why did you not say? I have business with her father. Give me the message.”

“I cannot. It is only for her ears.”

The man surveyed me, picking his teeth with a toothpick and tasting his finds with a grotesque smacking of his lips. I thought if I stood there any longer, I would watch the man regurgitate his entire dinner from his teeth and eat it again. “What, you wish to ride with me, then?”

“No, if you give me directions, I can—”

“Arrive after everyone has fallen asleep. What kind of message, boy?”

“An important one,” I answered, watching his eyes as they measured my worth.

“Let us hope you do not waste her time. My carriage is outside. Tell Pancho I am coming and that you ride with us.”

We rode in silence, I with my hands grasping the sides of the coach as it bumped at a furious speed, and the big man laughing every now and then at my constant adjustments.

And that was how I arrived at Catalina Marquez’s, by way of luxury coach. I followed the big man, whose name I soon discovered was Gabriel.

Gabriel lumbered into the room. “Tell the Catalina there is a messenger boy here,” he boomed to the servant. “And Arturo, do not try to uncover his secret,” he warned the servant. “It is only for the mistress’s ears.”

Arturo inclined his head.

Gabriel turned to me and said loudly, “There you are, boy. Give the lady her secret message, then.” He laughed out loud as he walked away, turning back to survey me a couple of times, only to laugh to himself again. He disappeared into the sea of elegantly dressed people.

The house was filled with guests; apparently these people kept different hours than at our house. Each room was lit with tall scented candles. Bottles of wine and food were laid out on tables.

“Come …” The servant gestured with a wave. What is it you need to tell the miss?”

“I promised to tell only her,” I replied solemnly. He seemed annoyed by my response but led me farther, in his tightly gaited stride. I tried to keep up and nearly tripped over my own leg. As we walked I eyed the grand portraits that lined the carpeted halls. The plush cushioned rugs engulfed my sandaled feet in blessed silence. I was led to a second floor, crowded the same as the first, only with younger guests.

We paused at the top of the stairs until Catalina acknowledged us. She was seated at one end of the room, smoking a cigarette, a glass of red wine in her pale hand. She wore a turquoise gown that clung to her flat chest. She nodded at Arturo, and he approached her. She leaned back as he explained my visit. She peered over his shoulder at me, then dismissed Arturo with a wave of her cigarette. He walked back to me and placed a hand on my neck to guide me forward. I remember how his hand lingered a little longer, his fingers dipping just beneath the collar of my shirt, before he turned and left abruptly.

She was leaning against a tall serving counter trimmed with soft tan leather. She raised a brow at me, poured a generous glass of red wine, and handed it to me.

“I do not drink wine, miss.”

“Take it. In case you become thirsty. Arturo tells me you came with Gabriel.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How did you manage that feat? Gabriel has no patience for anyone but me. That alone piques my curiosity. But tell me. You have a message. Who is it from?”

I took the glass and held it. “It is not a message, really, but a warning.”

“A warning, oh. Well, now I am really curious. Who dares to warn me?”

“Are you to marry Tearso Batongbukol?” Before she could reply, I said, “He is already taken. I came to warn you that he sees another woman.”

“Taken?” She inclined her head, her face wearing an amused frown. “And why should you care about me?”

“I have seen you with him, at the San Lupes’. You seem like a nice lady. I do not think it is right what he does. No woman should be treated that way. I thought you should know.”

“Such a gallant lad.”

I did not like her words. The tone was mocking.

“But what do you think, that I was born yesterday? I am not blind. I know that Tearso has other women, all men do. That will stop once we are married.”
She blew smoke toward me and smiled. “Besides, you lie, boy. You come for a different reason. One I do not care to know.” She laughed at my stunned expression. “Finish your drink. Stay as long as you like. There is chicharron, bibingka, sweet saging, and other meryenda on the table.”

So that was it? Her response to my announcement was to point to the direction of fried pork skin and sweet bananas? I scratched my head in confusion as she slunk away through the crowd. It was hard for me to think; I had never seen such food, and in such abundance. I proceeded to gorge myself with the sticky cakes sprinkled with shredded coconut. I choked on the vinegar and garlic sauce made for the fried pork rinds. I had never tasted anything so rich before.

I became the center of attention for a group of her friends. They were playing a game, and I was pulled into it. The game was simple. We each had to repeat words to a sentence, adding on a word until the story grew longer and longer. We were laughing hilariously, and their cups continued to be refilled by invisible hands. I did not pick apart until later how the group had nudged one another repeatedly, whispering things such as “Look how the peasant boy eats. It is as if he has eaten nothing but dirt all his life. This must be like paradise to him. How sad.” All along I thought I was laughing with them, but they were laughing at me. I was their sport.

An hour later, after my stomach had begun to ache from too much of the fried bananas dipped in sugar, Catalina chose to approach me again. “Boy, tell me. Does that witch have as fine clothes as I? Truly, I do not see what Tearso sees in her.”

“Esmeralda’s beauty is not in her clothes. And she is no witch,” I defended her heatedly, and immediately I realized Catalina had me, for neither of us had mentioned Esmeralda’s name until then. That was the night I took my first drink of wine. I drank more than I should have, with my belly already filled with the food from the San Lupe house and then Catalina’s display. I felt the heat of the room. The noise of the party made the room seem smaller to me. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I went in search of a way out. In my wanderings, I mistook one door for an exit and surprised the butler, Arturo, who was locked in an embrace with a servant boy. He did not jump away; in fact, he seemed to wear a smug smile. The boy, however, took that opportunity to walk past me and out the door.

“Who are you looking for?” Arturo asked.

“I took a wrong turn somewhere,” I said lamely, gesturing behind me at nothing in particular.

“Come find me before you leave. I may have something for you.”

“All right,” I said, backing out. I remember the lighting in that small room, which I think now was merely a hallway. It was odd, the light made Arturo’s face seem longer, paler. I remember the intense heat that overcame my body. The laughter coming from the floor below seeped through the floorboards and licked at my feet. It followed just behind my ears. When I finally found the back door, I was dripping with sweat. I was almost certain it would not open, but it did, and the cool air hit me like a benediction.

Once outside, I could hear someone gasping. I expected to see someone doubled over from drinking too much wine. Instead I saw Gabriel, my traveling host, with his sleeves rolled up. He was walking toward his coach, where he had a plate of lumpias on the roof. He took a bite of one, placed it back down, and walked to a man who was bent over. He hit the man cleanly in the jaw and the man fell to the ground, still clutching his face.

Gabriel snorted as the man fell. “Not so loud now, are you, my friend?” He was about to kick the man when he noticed my presence. “Boy, did you find the Catalina?”

“Yes.” I nodded, then added in my confusion,” Thank you.”

“Well then?” he barked. “Why are you standing there? Do you have business with me?”

“No,” I answered, and in my eagerness to get away I stumbled over my lame foot and fell. I was so nervous that I got up and heaved all the rich food and wine out onto the flower beds.

Gabriel laughed, then coughed, then forgot about me altogether as he gave the man his undivided attention.

I learned later what I had already guessed, that this Gabriel was Catalina’s most trusted lapdog.

I
SPENT THE
following Wednesday trying to sort through the pain in my head and the images from the previous night. Had I accomplished anything? Had I succeeded in scaring the woman away from marrying Tearso? If I had known that I was sitting on a wagon at the very top of a steep precipice, I would have jumped out and run away to another town. Blind as I was, I decided that nothing eventful had happened the night before. How wrong I was.

When I came home from working in the cane fields that evening, my head was still in a fog and my back was so brittle that it took longer to climb the stairs to our room. Esmeralda’s first customer was already seated.

Her customer was dressed in heeled sandals and she wore a yellow dress, with arched sleeves and a square neckline. The woman was Catalina Marquez.
I ran quickly to our other window to be sure, and there outside, leaning against a fine carriage, was her guard dog, Gabriel.

What had I done?
Think
, I ordered myself.
What did you say last night?
Before I could remember, Esmeralda began their session.

“Tell me, how can I help you?” Esmeralda poured a cup of tea.

“What kind of tea is that?” Catalina countered with a sneer.

“Ginger tea. It helps to soothe.”

“I only like black tea, and it must be the finest. Not this peasant tea.” She turned her face away in disgust. “I have no time to waste. Let us make this short. I have come to see if you have a cure for a witch.”

I cringed at her words, remembering now how easily I had given her Esmeralda’s name. Esmeralda seemed taken aback by the woman’s attitude, but she was used to people coming in with fierce snarls on their faces, only to leave with content smiles. She was not daunted. “So this witch?” she prompted.

“Yes, she is poor, an orphan from what I understand. She wishes to steal my fiancé. He is a wealthy, handsome man, from only the finest of social circles. His charms are universal. I can understand how others would be attracted to him. Even this poor girl from the gutter.”

Esmeralda hesitated in the act of sipping from her cup. She looked into the woman’s eyes steadily. “He loves this witch?”

“He is under her spell. It is not the same thing.”

“And he has asked you to marry him?”

“He shall. His family approves wholeheartedly, that is really all that matters. His parents are the ones who hold his purse strings. And Tearso, my husband-to-be, loves his money.”

I watched as Esmeralda struggled with her emotions. “You would marry a man who cares for another?”

“Yes, if he is the man I have set my future upon. This witch I speak of would rather drag him down with her poverty. His family would never approve of her. They would disown him. What kind of love is that? Would you not rather see the man you love living in fine clothes and eating good food?” Catalina smiled angelically, her long nails drumming on the oval table.

Esmeralda could not speak. She was flustered. She spilled her tea. She dropped a jar of her flowers. Petals spilled onto the floor, mixed with sharp pieces of clay. “I am sorry. This is not the kind of problem I can cure. I do not think there is a cure for your intended.”