The Sunflower: A Novel (11 page)

Tonight I sat under the stars with Christine. I am not sure which was more potent: what she said, how she looked, or how I felt in her presence.

PAUL COOK’S DIARY

The group had completed the roof and two side walls when they broke for lunch. Christine saved a place in the shade while Paul picked up their box lunches. The contents of the box were the same as the day before. “Where’s a McDonald’s when you need one?” she said. Christine lifted the ham out of the sandwich and placed it back in the box.

Jim and Jessica emerged from a stairwell, picked up their lunches and came over to sit by them. As she approached, Jessica looked at Paul, then gave Christine a curious glance and sat down next to her. Jim sat next to Paul.

“I got the boys’ dorm wired,” Jim said to Paul. “They have lights now.”

“Thanks. The boys will be thrilled.”

Jessica leaned into Christine and asked softly, “What have you two been up to?”

“Stretching wire.”

“…and?”

“And
what?”
Christine asked.

“You look…comfortable.”

Christine shook her head. “You should talk. Tell Sledge your lipstick becomes him.”

Jessica’s head swiveled to look at Jim. “I didn’t even notice. Do you think anyone suspects something’s going on?”

“Jess, everyone
knows
something’s going on.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “Really?”

“You two are about as obvious as a bad toupee.”

Jessica’s forehead furrowed. “That’s bad. He’s not supposed to fraternize with clients. It’s company policy. He could get fired.”

“It’s a little late to start worrying.”

She briefly looked concerned, then relaxed.
“C’est la vie.
What about you two?”

“I’ve just been helping him like you’ve been helping Jim.” She took a drink of the yogurt. “Well, maybe not quite. Which reminds me, I’m going to help at Pablo’s birthday party tonight.”

“What about
our
party?”

Christine unwrapped her chocolate. “You and Jim won’t notice that I’m not there.”

“Of course we will.”

“Jess…”

Jessica tried another tack. “How will you get back to Cuzco?”

“Paul offered to drive me.”

“Whatever,” Jessica said.

When they finished eating, Paul and Christine resumed their work on the greenhouse. Within a few hours the group had finished the metal netting and they pulled the plastic over the top of the frame. Then the process began again, sandwiching the plastic between two metal nets.

As the group got ready to leave, Paul and Christine went to the hacienda’s kitchen. Richard had already been there and the room smelled of baking pizza. Paul looked inside the oven. “Almost done.” He went to a cupboard and took out the cake mix and began reading the box.

“I can make the cake,” Christine said.

“All right.” He handed her the box.

“Betty Crocker, you’re a long way from home.” She looked at Paul. “We need vegetable oil and eggs.”

“Huevos y aceite vegetal.”
Paul brought her a bowl of eggs, a bottle of oil, a ceramic bowl and a wooden spoon for mixing. The vegetable oil was in a slim amber glass bottle and the brown eggs still had hay and mud stuck to them. She bit her lip as she examined them.

“They don’t get fresher than that,” Paul said.

“I’m used to a more
sterile
world,” Christine said as she washed the eggs.

“Don’t forget to use the high-altitude recipe.”

“Oh, right.” She was surprised that Paul had thought of this and she hadn’t. She looked at the box. “Stir one tablespoon flour into the mix. This says thirty-five hundred to sixty-five hundred feet. Do you think that’s enough? We’re practically in space here.”

“You can add a little extra flour.” As she started to crack the eggs into a bowl, Roxana appeared in the doorway. She knocked on the door’s threshold to get their attention.

Christine smiled when she saw her. “Come here, sweetie,” she said, motioning her toward her. Roxana walked up to her.

Christine cracked the last of the eggs, then poured in water and oil. Then she put the spoon in Roxana’s hands. “Can you stir?” Roxana just stared at her and Christine helped guide the spoon into the bowl and began stirring. After a moment she let go and Roxana continued stirring on her own.

When the ingredients were completely mixed in, Christine lifted the spoon.
“Gracias.
Now you can lick it.” Roxana started to put the spoon back in the bowl, but Christine stopped her. “No. Lick it.” She turned to Paul. “How do you say ‘lick’?”

“Lamer,”
Paul said, watching with interest.

“Lamer,”
Christine said. She took the spoon and pretended to lick it, then handed it back to her. Roxana began to lick the spoon, timidly at first, but with growing intensity as chocolate covered her lips and chin.

Richard walked into the room. He glanced at the three of them, then went to the oven and took out the pizza.

“Do you have a cake pan?” Christine asked.

“Of course.” Paul spoke to Richard, and he retrieved a shallow aluminum pan along with a cloth. “You can use the rag to grease the pan,” Paul said. “It’s clean.”

Christine poured oil onto the cloth and greased the sides and bottom of the pan then floured it. Then she poured in the batter. “All set. You preheated the oven to three hundred fifty degrees?” she asked.

“It should be about right.”

“Three hundred fifty degrees?”

He hid a smile. “It’s a wood burning oven, Christine. It doesn’t have a dial.”

“So how do you tell the temperature?”

“You put your hand inside and count how many seconds you can leave it in there.”

“Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Cake is three to four seconds.”

“I’ll let you handle the cake while I get Roxana ready for the party.”

Paul looked at Roxana without comprehesion. “ ‘Ready’?”

“You know,
ready.
Like wash up, braid her hair. I take it you don’t do a lot of that.”

“Not really.”

“Not really or not at all?”

“Really not at all.”

“She’s a girl, Paul,” she gently scolded. “Would you tell her what I want to do?”

Paul stepped in front of her and signed. Roxana smiled, and she turned and looked at Christine, her face bright with excitement.

“Where are the things I brought for her?”

“I’ll get them.”

A moment later he returned with the combs, mirror and ribbon. Christine took the items in one hand and Roxana’s hand in the other and led her up to her room.

Paul placed his hand in the oven to test the heat, then put the cake in.

Christine sat Roxana on her bed, then sat down behind her. “First, let’s see what else you have to wear.” She looked around the room. There was a single chest near the door. She opened it.

The chest was filled with clothing, mostly used, brought down by groups from America. She dug through the trunk; finally selecting a pink and white sleeveless dress. She lifted it out, eyed Roxana for size, then brought it over.

Roxana took off her jeans and T-shirt, and Christine pulled the dress on over her head. It was slightly large for her skinny body. Then Christine sat her back on the bed. Roxana sat perfectly still as Christine carefully braided her hair leaving a single lock that partially concealed the scar that ran from her temple to her jaw. She took out the yellow ribbon and neatly tied bows around the end of each braid. They stood out in her black hair like yellow butterflies on a bed of coal.

There was a cloth in the washbowl, and Christine scrubbed the cake mix and dirt from Roxana’s face until her skin glowed. She took a small makeup kit from her fanny pack and lightly spread sparkling gloss across Roxana’s lips. Then she opened a small vial of perfume and let Roxana smell it. Roxana looked up and smiled. Christine dabbed the scent on Roxana’s neck, then did the same to herself.

She handed Roxana the mirror. When Roxana saw herself, her face lit with joy. She cautiously touched each of the ribbons, then smiled at Christine.

“You’re a real beauty,” Christine said.

Christine then went to work on her own hair and makeup while Roxana watched with fascination. Christine applied a darker shade of gloss to her lips, accentuating their fullness. Then she opened a compact and carefully brushed on blush and a thick coat of mascara. She stowed the makeup back in her pack, then took Roxana’s hand. “Let’s see what the boys think now.”

Paul stared at them as they entered the kitchen.

“So? How do we look?”

“Wow.”

“We’re girls. We clean up well,” Christine said, then added happily, “Quit staring at me, and look at Roxana.”

“She looks like a girl.”

“Exactly,” Christine said triumphantly.

Paul signed to her and she signed back.

“She says she’s beautiful like you now.”

Christine smiled. “How’s the cake?”

“Still baking,” Paul said. “It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

While she was gone, Paul had gathered the ingredients to make chocolate frosting, and Christine put it together. It turned out to be especially good using the richer Peruvian cocoa. Fifteen minutes later they took the cake from the oven. It was a little lopsided and Christine laughed.

“We’re used to that,” Paul said. “That’s what the frosting’s for.”

Just then Jessica walked into the kitchen.

“Smells good in here,” she said. She looked at Christine. “Look at you, girl!”

“Just thought I’d clean up a bit.”

“We’re going. You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“I’m fine.”

Jessica kissed Christine’s check. “Okay, we’ll miss you. Gotta go. Jim says it’s ‘Hammer time.’ ” She walked out of the room.

As the group left, the boys began to file in and take their places around the table. They all looked at Roxana as if she were a stranger.

Pablo was the first to speak. “She looks like a girl,” he said.

“She
is
a girl,” Christine replied.

Deyvis said a prayer over the food, then Roxana and the boys stood in line to get their plates. They filed past Richard, who served up the pizza and toasted garlic bread. Paul and Christine were the last to be served.

Christine stared at the pizza. “What kind of meat is that? It looks like tuna.”

“It is tuna,” Paul said. “I think America’s the only country that doesn’t put tuna on their pizza.” Christina took a piece and sat down next to Paul and Roxana to eat.

As they were finishing their meal, Paul retrieved the piñata, a crude papier-mâché creation in the shape of a llama and adorned with brightly colored crepe paper streamers. The boys cheered when they saw it and followed Paul out the door to the central corridor. Paul wrapped one end of the twine around the llama’s head, then threw the other end over a rafter and hauled it up.

As the birthday boy, Pablo was given the string so that he could move the piñata up and down.

Paul handed the bat to Gordon, but he refused it. The boys all shouted to Paul, and though Christine didn’t understand them, she knew from their gestures that whatever they wanted concerned her.

“The boys want you to go first,” Paul told her.

She looked at their eager faces. “How sweet,” she said.

“Not really,” Paul said, slightly grinning, “They just want to make fun of you.”

“We’ll see about
that.
Where’s the blindfold?”

Paul tied the handkerchief around her eyes. He took her by the shoulders and guided her toward the piñata, then handed her the bat. She clutched it tightly with both hands.

“All right, Babe Ruth, let me clear out before you start swinging.” Paul stepped back then said, “Okay, go for it.”

Pablo yanked the string and the piñata jumped. She swung five times and missed with each swing and the boys laughed harder with each attempt. Finally she pulled off the blindfold. “Okay, enough humiliation. Roxana’s turn.”