Marta returned from the kitchen and placed the coffee and the cognac on the coffee table. Then she sat down next to him.
“I put in sugar. One spoonful, the way you like it.”
“Thank you, Marta.”
He took a sip of the coffee. Just like I like it. What I like is her, but I sit here playing the chump.
“Want some cognac?”
“Thank you, Marta.”
She poured some cognac into a glass. Thank you, Marta. Seems like that’s all I know how to say, like a schoolboy.
“Cheers, Marta. Won’t you have a glass with me?”
“No, thank you, Filiberto. Truth is, I don’t like cognac.”
“What do you like to drink, Marta?”
“Nothing. Sometimes a little wine, but I prefer not to drink anything. I also cleaned your suit. . from last night, and washed your shirt.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered, Marta.”
“I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to give it to the cleaners. Then people start talking. But you say there’s no danger. .”
“No, none at all, Marta. And now I’m going to go see a lawyer about getting your birth certificate. Marta Fong García’s. For all we know, I’m your uncle, Marta.”
“At least poor Alicia Fong’s.”
“That’s you now, forever. And more Mexican than chilaquiles. Here’s to you, my fellow Mexican.”
Marta lowered her head. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. She gave him a kiss on the cheek:
“Thank you, Filiberto, thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it, Marta.”
Marta stood up and walked over to the open window. She spoke from there, her voice full of feeling:
“So, I’m no longer in danger, I’ll never be in danger, and I’ll never again be afraid. You probably think I’m foolish, but I’ve lived with this fear for so many years that it’s going to take me a while to get used to not carrying it around all the time. I’m going to have to get used to facing life head on, looking people straight in the eye, not hiding, as I’ve always done.”
“Nobody can do anything to you anymore, Marta.”
“I’m free. . I have to get used to this, to being free. I have to say it, over and over again. I won’t have to work for whatever they want to pay me. And I’m never going back to Mr. Liu’s house. .”
“I thought he was your guardian, Marta.”
Marta didn’t answer. García stood up and went into the bedroom. Fucking faggot! I didn’t take advantage of her when she was afraid and now I’m not taking advantage of her when she’s grateful. Maybe that Russian’s got me all tied up in knots, because I know he’s watching everything. I should close the curtain. Fucking Russian! I should bring her in here, into bed, and go for it. Cut to the goddamned chase.
He walked back to the door between the bedroom and the living room. Marta was standing up, looking at him.
“All of this is thanks to you, Filiberto.”
“It has been my pleasure.”
“I knew you were good. A man that makes a girl like me, a nobody, laugh, like you do, has to be good.”
“Don’t say that, Marta.”
García went into the bathroom and closed the door. Now I’m really fucked. Even my voice is coming out all shaky and weak. Next I’ll start bawling like an old woman. Or like a faggot. Anyway, they say that men, when they get old, turn into faggots.
He washed his hands and came out of the bathroom. Marta was still standing there, at the door.
“I knew I wasn’t wrong to tell you all that, Filiberto. And that’s why I want to tell you the rest.”
García’s eyes turned cold, calculating. Now the truth will come out. All she had to do was see my dumbass face, and she’s out of here. But if that’s where she’s heading, she’ll put out or she’ll put out, period, even if the Russian does see the whole thing. Fucking Russian! For all I know he’s listening, too. He probably put microphones everywhere. But the Russian can go fuck himself. She’s going to have to put out.
“Come here, Filiberto. . Sit down, on the sofa.”
García sat down. She kneeled in front of him, on the floor, looking up at him from below. Her eyes were filled with tears.
“I didn’t want to Filiberto, I swear, I didn’t, but I was Mr. Liu’s mistress. His second wife, he called me. I didn’t want to, but I was so afraid. And then I got used to it. I thought it was going to go on forever, for my whole life. He came to my room every Tuesday and Saturday night. His wife, the poor thing, she knew everything, but he says those things don’t matter, that’s the Chinese custom. And his wife is afraid of him, too. She and I, we’ve always done whatever he wanted. We never dared disobey him. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what he did, but I think there is. . But I couldn’t do anything to stop him, and twice a week I had to wait for him in my room.”
“Why are you telling me this, Marta?”
“Because you’ve been so good to me. . Like a father, like more than a father. Ever since I left the nuns in Macao, nobody has ever been kind to me. But you are, and you haven’t asked for anything in return. .”
She threw her arms around him and started to cry on his shoulder. Like a father. Fucking father! If she only knew what I’m going to ask her for. But that Chinaman Liu already beat me to it. Fucking Chinaman!
Marta kept sobbing. He placed a hand on her head. My hand is trembling, like a schoolboy with his first bitch. Like it was trembling when I touched Gabriela in Yurécuaro. Or like that kid from the university I took that afternoon in Chapultepec. Or like those girl’s hands trembled when I pulled down her panties. Even more when I snuck out from behind that tree. And that little bitch was a pretty thing, but she was as much a virgin as her fucking mother. Crying her eyes out but squeezing me so hard I could barely breathe. Fucking little brat! And now I’m trembling like that kid. The minute Marta’s near me I start trembling. And she’s just a hole with legs and she’s not even pretending she’s got her virginity to lose. Now, right now, is when I should make my move and drag her into bed. They say that women get hornier when they’re crying. Fucking trembling hands!
He pulled away from Marta and motioned for her to sit down on the couch next to him. He lifted her chin and dried her tears with his handkerchief.
“Seems I’m always drying your tears, Marta.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have much experience at this, Marta.”
“Me, neither, Filiberto. I thought I didn’t know how to cry anymore.”
She kissed him gently on his mouth, stood up, and went to the kitchen, taking the empty cup with her. García sat paralyzed, his eyes half closed, his lips pressed together so they wouldn’t tremble. She beat me to it. Here’s me with my mister-nice-guy routine, and she’s the one who takes the bull by the horns. And right next to the window, so those fucking Russians could see everything. Or maybe she was sending them some kind of signal? But, a signal for what?
He stood up and went over to the window. He scanned the façade of the hotel across the street for the room they were spying from, but he couldn’t see anything.
“Here’s some more coffee, Filiberto. Do you want more
cognac?”
“Thank you, but I’ve had enough.”
“Sit and drink your coffee. You must be very tired. .”
“Marta, my dear. . You shouldn’t do those things. Don’t think I’m so old I don’t feel. .”
Marta laughed.
“I’d be very upset if you didn’t feel anything. I’ve just told you I’m not a child and. . and ever since the first day you walked into the shop. . Remember what you said to me? ‘Can I write you a letter, my lovely?’”