And afterward, after more cries and tears, as they both lie half covered by scattered items of clothing on the floor, Guillermo says: “We don’t know what’s going to happen next, my love. I want to be with you. We should be celebrating because we are closer than ever to being together. But this is Guatemala and anything can go wrong. We need to plan, consider all the possible outcomes, in case we are forced to separate. Samir’s unpredictable. You may not have noticed, but I suspect there are people out there monitoring our movements. I felt it the first time we met at the Centro Vasco. There was this blue Hyundai in the lot—”
Maryam kisses his cheek again. “I know you’re always looking over your shoulder.”
Guillermo nods. “For good reason. We need to be even more strategic now because we’re in a position of weakness. If something happens, we need to set up a place for us to meet secretly.”
“I’m tired of letting my mind rule my heart, Guillermo.”
He shushes her. “I’m not talking about that.”
“So should we simply say goodbye and plan to meet in Paris next Christmas?”
“Very funny. We don’t have to separate immediately.”
“Not with what’s going on with Samir?” Maryam looks at her tequila but doesn’t reach for it.
“Look, your father hasn’t wanted to worry you, but he’s been getting more threatening phone calls because of his work exposing Banurbano, although it may have something to do with the way he is managing the textile factory. I don’t know.”
Maryam’s eyes well up again. “Why did he ever accept that appointment? My father is so stubborn.”
“He is, but I’m his lawyer and the president wouldn’t dare touch him. I’m pretty sure of that. But, of course, there are spies.”
“So what’s our master plan?”
Guillermo gets up off the floor and goes over to the table. He pours more tequila into his glass and brings back to Maryam what is left of hers. “I suggest a less romantic place than Paris to meet. A town closer to home. Maybe in El Salvador. There’s this ugly little seaside town, La Libertad, about forty-five minutes from the capital. There’s really nothing there, an ugly church on the main square. If anything should happen, we can plan to meet there, in front of the church, on the first of May. No phone calls, no text or e-mail messages between us, because our movements will be monitored. Should anything come between us, let’s meet there starting next year and every May 1 after that.”
“If something were to happen, one of us wouldn’t be there.”
“And the other person would know that and act accordingly. And plan to be back there at the same time the following year. Can we promise this to each other?”
“Oh, Guillermo. .”
They stare into each other’s eyes, then touch glasses and drink.
“There’s something else. Something we haven’t even realized.”
Maryam curls her body into Guillermo’s on the rug as if into a huge, absorbing sponge.
“We’re free, Maryam, totally free. Do you realize that?”
She nods, though her face shows worry. She knows that soon she will have to drive home and the battle royal between her and Samir will begin.
“Yes, like Prometheus.”
chapter fourteen. you can’t kidnap a car
Maryam is now sleeping in the guest bedroom of their apartment. It’s her decision not to move out, but Samir tells Hiba that he’s banished her from their bedroom because she has admitted her affair with “Rosensweig,” even though she’s never admitted anything. Samir taunts his wife for sleeping with a Jew, though he knows that Guillermo and his wife have been attending the Union Church for years.
Maryam prefers to be alone — she no longer has to see Samir’s body. She no longer has to endure the rough texture of his skin next to her in bed, nor witness the spots that appear almost daily on his face, soon becoming moles.
Many men age gracefully, but not Samir. All of his physical deficiencies are amplified after her confession: his shoulders are unquestionably slouched, he shuffles more than he walks, and when he removes his shoes and puts on his slippers, a terrible smell permeates the living room. Maryam is certain that he wears the same socks for several days at a time just to upset her.
Though she can barely tolerate Hiba, Maryam makes sure the woman lays out clean socks and underwear on Samir’s bed every day for him after he showers. Though showering has become less frequent — does he want his wife to move out to escape the stench? She closes the door to her room at night, but the odor of dirty socks is inescapable as it slides into her bedroom from under the door.
In truth, her confession came at the right time: there’s no way she could have spent another night in his bed.
* * *
Guillermo and Maryam begin spending two afternoons together every week in his new apartment. With only three renters now in the whole building, it resembles a fortified castle, a private haven.
Since Samir refuses to grant her a divorce or annulment, Maryam realizes that she and Guillermo may never share a life together. In Guatemala they cannot live “in sin.”
“What’s wrong, my love?” asks Guillermo. They are sitting up in bed drinking green tea.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“I don’t believe you,” he says, brushing her hair from her forehead. “We shouldn’t keep secrets from one another.”
“Okay,” she says, setting her cup on her night table. “Where are we going?”
“By which you mean. .?”
“What’s our future?”
“I don’t know. Just imagine: only three months ago we had no future together, but now we at least have this—”
“You mean our twice-a-week tryst?”
“It’s more than that. I am out of my marriage—”
“And I’ll never be out of mine. I feel that I am still lying about us to my father. I am certain that Samir has told him. I should just tell him the truth and see what he says. It’s not right for me not to tell him.”
Guillermo knows that this will depress her further, but he cannot hide the truth. “You’re right, your father already knows. Samir called him the night you spoke with him. Ibrahim asked me not to talk about it, out of respect for him, and to remain discreet. I promised him I would. He does not approve of our affair in the least.”
“I wish you’d told me.”
“I’m telling you now. Didn’t you wonder why your father stopped inviting me to have lunch with you?”
Maryam slumps in the bed. She wants to hide under the sheets and pillows.
“Sweetheart,” Guillermo says to her.
“You shouldn’t keep secrets from me.”
“I promised your father.”
“My father’s not me. I need you to be honest with me. Samir and I are at a stalemate. All I can do is wish him dead. . or maybe we should just kill him.”
“What a wonderful solution, Maryam — both of us spending the rest of our lives in the penitentiary with Kaibiles, murderers, rapists, and drug addicts for having plotted to assassinate your husband. Even if we hired someone to kill Samir, what would we achieve? It’s true, 90 percent of the crimes in Guatemala are never solved, but this murder would surely be traced!”
Maryam raises her right eyebrow.
“I’m not joking. It’s easy to hire assassins. It’s done almost every day here. Do you know that only eight out of every one hundred crimes are ever prosecuted, and only one of the eight criminals is brought to justice? This means that 1 percent of all murders in Guatemala are solved, but if the killing involves an act of love, it goes up to 50 percent.”
“I couldn’t live with blood on our hands.”
“And neither could I,” Guillermo says. He knows they are simply talking loosely. There is no crime in talking about it, but he realizes he could easily contract someone to murder Samir and be done with him.