Carry Me Like Water (45 page)

In the morning, Mundo came by, and they walked to La Fe Clinic. By then, it was almost noon, and Carolyn told Diego that everything had been arranged. “I’ve seen to a Mass at the cathedral—the whole nine yards.” She smiled at him.

“Are you Catholic?” Diego wrote.

She nodded. “Not a very good Catholic, but good enough to give street people decent funerals. Don’t ask me why—it makes me feel better.”

Diego smiled at her.

“I know one of the priests at St. Patrick’s,” she said.

“Is he your confessor?” Diego asked.

Carolyn laughed as she read Diego’s question. “No, I don’t have a confessor.”

“Don’t you have any sins?” Diego held up the note and laughed.

“If I had a confessor,” she said smiling, “then the poor guy would be overworked.” She looked at Mundo. “I’ll bet you could use a confessor.”

Mundo grinned and nodded.

She was surprised he didn’t have a retort. He seemed almost nice today, something soft in his eyes.

Mundo kept smiling good-naturedly, nothing lecherous in his look. She was surprised by the warmth she sensed in him. “
Don’t get sloppy. Carolyn.”
She looked at Mundo and laughed. “Why are you smiling so much?”

He shrugged his shoulders. He seemed almost shy.

“I don’t always got something to say,” he said finally, “sometimes I just listen.”

“And you smile when you listen?”

He nodded.

Really, he was very beautiful, she thought. He couldn’t be any older than twenty-two—just a little more than a kid. She shrugged
her shoulders and laughed to herself. Carolyn took her eyes off Mundo and looked straight at Diego. “The funeral’s scheduled for Thursday morning at ten. She’s going to be buried at Concordia. That’s where they bury them, the people who don’t have anybody get buried at a section of Concordia. At least they’re still saving spaces in the ground for the Marys of the world.”

“You knew her?”

She nodded. “I used to give her clothes. I also …” She stopped. “Never mind. The funeral home wants to know if you have any clothes to dress her in. There’s blood all over the dress—they’re keeping it as evidence.”

Diego handed her a note: “No clothes.”

“I’ll find something,” she said.

“It’s not too much trouble?”

“Diego, if things were too much trouble, I’d quit my job.” She looked at Mundo. “So are you guys a team now?”

“You wanna join?” Mundo asked.

“You handing out T-shirts?”

Mundo smiled at her. “Yeah, sure—you want T-shirts, you’ll get T-shirts.”

She avoided his smile and looked straight into Diego’s eyes for a second, and nodded. “I’ll be at the funeral.”

Diego touched her hand, then squeezed it.

“You have nice eyes,” she said.

“What about me?” Mundo asked.

“Those eyes of yours are too damned mean to be nice.”
They’re nice, too.
She looked at him. “Thanks for helping Diego out.”

“I owe him.”

“At least you pay your debts,” her voice was soft. She cleared her throat. “See you at the funeral.”

“You’re very nice,” Diego wrote, “very kind.”

“Not to everyone.” She looked at Mundo, then back at Diego. “Keep him out of fights and trash cans.” She laughed, walked away, and took a patient into one of the doctor’s offices.

Mundo nudged Diego. “She was nicer to me today, don’t you think?”

“You were nicer, too,” he wrote.

As the two men walked out of the clinic, Diego spotted Tencha sitting at her usual post. He asked her if she would go to the funeral. “Pobrecita,” he wrote. “No tiene a nadie. No podemos dejarla sola ¿verdad?”

Tencha stared at his note and agreed. “Claro. Mire, Señor, tengo una comadre que me puede cuidar el puesto mientras voy a la misa. Nadie debe irse al otro mundo sin ser acompañada. Tenemos que encomendarla a Dios.”

Diego smiled at her, and thanked her for agreeing to attend Mary’s funeral. He was happy she would be there.

Diego made his way to Fifth and Oregon, Crazy Eddie’s usual post. He wasn’t there so Diego waited for him. About twenty minutes later, Eddie showed up, he and his worn Bible. “Will you go to my friend’s funeral?” Diego asked. “She was very holy.” Crazy Eddie stared at the note.

He pushed his glasses up, and they slid back down, “Yes,” he said with his thick lips. “Funerals are important. To pray for the dead is a good thing.”

Diego shook Crazy Eddie’s hand and gave him a note with the time and place of the funeral. He turned around and saw Mundo standing across the street. He walked over and handed him a note: “You been following me?”

“Yeah, just checking out your scene, got it? I was wondering when you were gonna spot me. You know, someone could kill you easy. You got to pay attention, you never know when someone’s out to get your ass.” He paused, “and you know something else? All the people you talk to are nuts, just like I said—nuts.”

“Bring your friends to the funeral.” he wrote. “You got the pallbearers?”

“Yeah, I got ‘em.”

“Good—and don’t make fun of my friends. And tell your T-Birds to dress nice—they’re going to a lady’s funeral.”

“Look, after the kind of clothes you wear, you’re telling me to dress nice? We’re all gonna look sharp, baby, like brand-new knives waiting to be used.”

“I’m going to dress sharp, too,” Diego wrote, “you’ll see.”

14

E
DDIE SAT IN HIS
living room holding open a book of poems and reading it half to himself and half out loud. His son was in a basket next to him, and occasionally he would look down and smile at the sleeping infant, rock him, then continue reading. Jake sat across from him. He was reading an old newspaper. They had been sitting there for hours only stopping to change or feed the baby. Jake watched his brother change, touch, and talk to his son, a son who could not hear voices. Already, he was learning to crawl, trying to escape the grasp of his father. “Where you going?” Jake asked. “Nowhere to run, kiddo.” He picked him up, swung him in his arms, then placed him back in his basket.

Neither of them was in the mood for speaking. Sometimes, they asked each other a question or two from across the room, then continued reading.

“Is that what passes for conversation in this house?”

Eddie and Jake looked up at Maria Elena.

“This is public space,” she said. “Can’t we just talk to each other?” She grabbed the book away from Eddie’s hand and shut it. “Your brother is sitting over there,” she said. “Talk to him.”

Jake smiled nervously at Maria Elena. She smiled back. “You can talk, too,” she said. “This house has been too damned quiet. If you’re both going to be so mopey, then I’m going to dress you
both in black.” She walked across the room, took the newspaper away from Jake, kissed him on the forehead, and held it up in the air.

“You’re a madwoman,” Eddie said, “I married a madwoman.”

“I think we should all talk about something.”

“Is this like a planned activity at camp?”

“I wouldn’t know—I never went to camp.”

“You’re a reverse snob, Nena.”

“Honey, you would be, too, if you were me.” She took the baby out of his basket and placed him on the floor. He began crawling back and forth between his parents.

“Are we talking now?”

“No.”

“Pick a topic, then, Nena.”

“Houses.”

“Houses? There’s a topic. Past houses? Future houses?”

“This is the only house I’ve ever lived in.”

“Really, what about when you were growing up?”

“Eddie, I lived in the projects.”

He was quiet. “You never told me you lived in the projects.”

“Now you know. It’s not past houses I’m interested in—let’s talk about future houses.” She had a curious smile.

“We’re not finished with past houses.”

“I told you—no houses in my past.”

“I still own an old one.”

“What?”

“My parents’ house—I still own it.” He looked at Jake, who was looking at him as if he were crazy.

“The house we grew up in?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “What other house would I be talking about? I had a dream once that I burned it to the ground.”

“Great dream,” Jake said.

“Awful dream,” Nena said.

“Great dream,” Eddie said. “The flames were beautiful.”

Jake pictured his parents’ huge mansion going up in an apocalyptic flame. “You still have that place? You still own it? Really, Eddie?” His voice was suddenly loud and animated.

“I pay someone to stay in the chauffeur’s house just to watch the place.”

“Why didn’t you get rid of it?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t decide anything about that house—so I just kept it. And I didn’t need the money so I kind of just forgot about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I never touch it, just like I never touch their money—which reminds me, Jake, do you want it? The money, I mean?”

“How much is it?”

“Funny you should ask. I just talked to my lawyer today—”

“The nice man I ran into with Lizzie at Salvador’s funeral?”

“The very one. He said, by the way, that you were lovely. And he also said I was worth about thirty-eight million dollars.”

“Thirty-eight million dollars!”

“And change.”

“And change?”

“You want it, Jake?”

He stared at his younger brother in disbelief. “I’d be homeless a million lifetimes before I touched that money.”

Eddie stared at his brother’s face, contorted in anger at the mention of his parent’s money. “Maybe we should burn it along with the house.”

“With all the hungry people in the world, you would burn that money? What are you, nuts, Eddie?” Maria Elena asked.

“I thought you didn’t care about the money.”

“I don’t, I mean, I
don’t want it
—but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t do something responsible with it.”

“It’s dirty money—really dirty.”

“Oh, and the money we live on now is so clean? Life happens to be a little dirty, Eddie. Wouldn’t it be lovely to live so purely?” There was something bitter in her tone and Eddie could taste it. “Since the subject is houses, how many houses could you build for people who have nothing?”

“We can’t save the world—not even with thirty-eight million dollars.”

“Saving the world?—is that it, Eddie? Oh that’s damned arrogant.” She picked the baby off the floor, and put him back in the
basket. “He’s getting too big for this. He’ll be walking in no time.” He fell asleep as soon as she put him down. “This kid will sleep through anything—except the night.” She laughed, then looked at Eddie again. “I don’t understand you sometimes, I really don’t, Jonathan Edward Marsh. You and your left-leaning ideas—oh, they’re all very welt and good, and admirable—but since you can’t save the whole goddamned world, then you won’t save any of it. That’s such California horseshit.”

He nodded, and looked down at the floor.

Jake watched his brother.

“How come you guys are always looking at the floor? What the hell is down there?” She heard the tone in her voice and caught herself. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s none of my business—”

“No,” Eddie said, “you’re right.”

She smiled at him. “And in the meantime, that money could get us into a big house.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “and Lizzie and I have discussed it.”

“Oh, you and Lizzie have discussed it?”

“Yes, we have. We want to buy a house.”

“Oh? Is that why the subject is houses.”

She nodded.

“You have something in mind?”

“Not the house—just the city.”

“I bet I can guess.”

“El Paso, Eddie.”

“El Paso? You’re moving to El Paso?”

She nodded.

“You gonna take the husband and the baby with you?”

“Of course, I am. And the brother-in-law, too.” She looked at Jake trying to read his reaction. “You like the desert, Jake?”

“Never been there.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a gay mecca—but
it is
near Casas Grandes. And the town is full of Latino men.” She winked at him.

He smiled at his sister-in-law. She was kind and funny and passionate
and he wondered for an instant what it would be like to love her.

“But what about our lives here?” Eddie said.

“Eddie, you hate it here.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “I forgot.” He laughed. “Can we leave tomorrow?”

“You’re a very goofy man, sometimes, you know that, Eddie? And how come you didn’t tell me you quit your job.” “You didn’t ask.”

“I knew you were going to say that—and it’s a completely unacceptable answer.”

“Who told you I quit?”

“Your boss called.
I
took the call. He wanted to know if you’d changed your mind.
I
told him fat chance in hell.”

He laughed. “Good girl.”

“Don’t good girl me, Eddie. When were you planning to tell me?”

“Today. Right now. I was going to tell you right now.” He moved up to her and kissed her. “You want to find Diego, don’t you?”

She looked into her husband’s eyes. Today they looked green and not so dark. “He’s going to need someone who’ll understand.” She looked at her son. “You have a very persuasive way of changing the subject. Next time just tell me, OK?—yes, I want to find him. I had a dream about him. I woke up with his name in my mouth, and I had to say it over and over: Diego, Diego, Diego—and all of a sudden I felt I was in the middle of the desert.”

“We could hire someone to find him, Nena.”

“Why are we always hiring someone to do our dirty work?”

“OK,” he said. “It was just a suggestion.”

She made a face at him, then laughed.

“El Paso,” he said.

“But, Eddie, I have to tell you that El Paso’s not Palo Alto, and it’s not Berkeley and it’s not San Francisco. No coffee shops filled with yuppies in formal attire, no bookstores—no bookstores, Eddie! You won’t like that, and it’s hot, and there aren’t any art flick movie houses, and no tulip trees, and no bicycle lanes. It’s not like anything you’ve ever known. And you’ll trip over the poor. You’ll look across
the river and see Juarez, and you’ll see wealth in El Paso, and you’ll see businesses, and you’ll live next door to a poverty on a scale you’ve never seen. Rough edges, Eddie, a lot of rough edges. And you won’t like the pollution.”