Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
“Good night,” said Kenny, tipping his hat.
“Good night,” said Lupe. “And, well, thank you very much for bringing him home, Kenny.”
“You’re welcome, Lupe, and, please don’t be too hard on him,” he began to say, but then he stopped himself. “Sorry, Lupe,” he said, “it’s none of my business,” he added quickly, and left.
Lupe closed the door and took a deep breath. Yes, she knew that Kenny was right and she shouldn’t be too hard on Salvador. No, she should be happy and thank God that she’d gotten Salvador back in one piece; but, also, she couldn’t just hide the fact that she was angry.
She’d been so worried.
Where had he been, and what had he been doing? Had he really been at his mother’s all this time? Then why hadn’t either of them thought of calling her?
Once again, Lupe wondered if, well, could it be another woman.
But oh, she really didn’t want to have all these kinds of terrible thoughts running around inside of her head. What was wrong with her? It just seemed that ever since she’d found that bottle of whiskey hidden under the two beautiful pillows with their names embroidered on them, her mind was just alive with the Devil’s toys of doubt and fear!
She began to cry. She felt overwhelmed.
UP IN CORONA, Doña Margarita was praying with her rosary in hand when she heard her daughter-in-love’s crying. Ever since Salvador had come by and she’d given him the message that the Chinese man needed to see him, she’d been praying day and night for God, the Father, to help her son Salvador and his young wife.
A mother’s job was never done. A woman of substance wasn’t done until her earth-body was returned to the ground from which it had come.
But even then the journey of life, la vida, wasn’t finished. After human beings finished their work here on Earth, they then returned to the Great Beyond to continue their service in the name of the Holy Creator.
Doña Margarita prayed in her little shack in the predawn of the day using the rosary that had been her father’s—the rosary that she’d been carrying from town to town ever since they’d had to leave their beloved tierra de los Altos de Jalisco. And in her mind’s eye, the old woman suddenly knew that Lupe and Salvador were in danger once again.
Salvador’s young wife was crying and the Devil was creeping close, preparing to snatch her love for Salvador away from her the first chance he got.
Quickly, Doña Margarita moved up and down the musical scale of the full Thirteen Senses as she’d done before when she’d turned into an eagle and went to help her son at the border. This time she once more stopped at the Eleventh Sense—called Form-Shifting by many Indigenous People of the Southwest—and she took on the form of an owl this time.
El Diablo was creeping down the branches of the Tree of Knowledge to intercept Lupe’s prayers when the old Indian came sweeping down out of the Heavens and took the old Devil by such surprise, grabbing him by his long weasel tail, that he leaped out of the Tree and went screaming up into the Sky, trying to get away. But the She-Owl had a good hold of him, and she rode him through the Heavens until by accident she almost got him through the Gates of Heaven and back with God.
“Get the hell away from me, you smelly old woman!” he screamed.
“Oh, come and give me a quick kiss!” she said. “You know you love me, and to love me is to love God!”
Hearing this, the Devil spat and took off for the depths of Hell!
AND INSIDE of their honeymoon cottage, Lupe suddenly felt this great peace come over her and she felt so happy, so blessed, like all these feelings of doubt and fear had left her soul, and Papito Dios was now completely here with her once again.
“Thank You, Lord God, for helping me,” she said. “I don’t want to keep having all these bad thoughts inside of my head, thinking that my husband’s love be false!”
And saying these last words “his love be false,” Lupe was suddenly back in her box canyon of la Lluvia de Oro . She was seven years old and she and her childhood girlfriends were playing jump rope and singing a song about false love.
Naranja dulce, limón partido,
Dame un abrazo, por Dios te pido!
Si fueran falsos tus juramentos,
En algún tiempo se han de acabar.
Toca la marcha, mi pecho llora,
Si tus juramentos serán verdad,
Duran el tiempo que naranjas dulces.
Sweet orange, split lemon
Give me a hug, for the love of God!
If your promises are false,
Sometime they will end.
The march sounds on, my heart cries out,
If your promises are true,
They’ll last as long as oranges are sweet.
The tears streamed down Lupe’s eyes, and in Corona some seventy miles away, Doña Margarita smiled, sending love to her daughter-in-love. For the words of “daughter-in-law” had never made much sense to the old Indian woman. It wasn’t the “law” that brought new members into one’s familia, it was the “love.” And so tears of joy continued streaming down Lupe’s face as her mother-in-love kept praying for her, and Lupe was now sure that everything was going to work out for her and Salvador and their promises were true to each other, so their love would then be sweet as long as oranges were sweet—forever and ever!
Lupe felt better. It was hard to keep full of doubt and fear when you had so many wonderful memories smiling down upon you like kisses from Heaven.
She made the sign of the cross over herself, thanking the Holy Creator.
Then instantly, she remembered the bottle and the can of money she’d thrown in the trash. She’d never gone back to get them! She decided to now go and retrieve them.
She was no longer afraid.
The Devil was gone. She’d brought light into her darkness.
And walking outside, here was the Mother Moon, and she looked so beautiful surrounded by dark sky and bright stars.
“Hello, Mother,” Lupe said to la Luna, as she’d done every single night back home in their beloved box canyon.
And the Mother Moon smiled back to Lupe, holding in all her glory, the Female Eye de Papito Dios, giving Heart-Guidance to women since the dawn of time.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Kenny White was washing off Salvador’s car so he could start working on it, when he came across the two huge bullet holes in the lid of the trunk. He turned off the hose and opened the trunk very carefully. There were splatters of blood all over the inside of the trunk. Kenny didn’t know what to do. Should he go to the law, or should he wait and ask Salvador to explain himself first? He decided to put the car back inside of his garage and have a good-sized drink of whiskey so he could think the whole situation over very carefully.
SALVADOR SLEPT FOR SIXTEEN HOURS STRAIGHT.
Then little by little, as he began waking up, he dreamed that he was being hugged and kissed and it felt so good. Warm, strong, firm legs wrapped all about him and hard, big-nippled breasts pushing against him like a covey of quail running uphill.
He dreamed of gripping his truelove closer and closer, tighter and tighter, feeling her young, hard quail-breasts beating hard against his chest as she jerked him to herself with such hunger and warmth and smooth silkiness.
Then yes, oh, yes, they were gliding, slipping, sliding through that needle’s eye of returning toward a memory, a longing of paradise.
All yesterdays disappeared and today stood still . . . not in thoughts, but in feelings of warmth, of juicy wet warmth, and kissing, kissing, holding, and, oh, oh, yes, yes, such soft, tender feelings—truly a Gift from Heaven!
For every little kiss, every little caress of Heart to Heart in the quiet of the Good Night was a journey to the Great Beyond.
In the distance, the ocean waves continued racing up to the seashore like wild stallions. And the Mother Moon rejoiced, giving light and warmth to all young lovers.
And here, in this Blessed Place, the Mother Moon smiled, speaking gently to them, and Salvador and
An owl called outside their window.
In the distance a rooster crowed and flapped his wings.
Another Sacred Night was coming to pass.
THEN IT WAS DAYBREAK and waking up, Salvador remembered that entering Carlsbad, he’d dropped his car off at Kenny’s before coming home because he hadn’t wanted Lupe to see the car all dirty and . . . with those huge bullet holes in the trunk.
He leaped out of bed! He had to get over to Kenny’s garage before the old man found those bullet holes and turned him in to the law! What had he been thinking? Kenny was an Anglo!
“Lupe,” said Salvador, “I need to go and see Kenny!”
“But why?” she said, lying naked next to him in bed. “You were gone for three days and nights!”
“Look,” he said, looking out their window and seeing the first signs of daylight just coming up over the avocado trees in the east. “I know that last time I said I’d only be gone a few hours and was gone for a couple of days, but, look, it’s almost daylight, and this time I’m honestly—”
“You were gone three days and three nights,” said Lupe, cutting him off. “And now you’ve been home two days, but you’ve been asleep for the whole time.”
Salvador stared at her. “What are you saying?” he said, looking completely baffled. “You mean, that I’ve been sleeping for two days—oh, my God! I’ve got to get to Kenny’s, and fast!”
Salvador leaped up, grabbed his clothes and pulled them on as he went rushing down the hall. “I’ll be right back, Lupe!” he yelled. “I’ll be right back!”
“Salvador!” screamed Lupe, slipping on her robe. “Don’t you dare leave me again! I’d thought that you’d gotten killed! I was going crazy with fear! We need to talk! I found your whiskey bottle!”
“I’ll be right back!” he yelled, repeating himself.
“You leave,” she screamed, “and this time I won’t get your money and whiskey from the trash when I throw them away!”
But he paid her no attention. He was out the door, then glancing around, he saw that he had no vehicle. He suddenly remembered that his truck was being used by Epitacio and his car was at Kenny’s place. Quickly, he started down the driveway at a jog, and then he was running, and he was barefoot.
Lupe watched him go. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what was going on. Why, Salvador was acting crazy. Was she doing something wrong? What could possibly be so urgent about his car’s condition? Her brother, Victoriano, had always said that Kenny was a good mechanic, so surely he could figure out what to do with the car without Salvador.
Lupe was so mad that she wanted to scream, and so scream, she did! The rooster next door answered Lupe’s screams, and then Chingon began barking, too!
AND IN CORONA —some seventy miles to the northeast—Doña Margarita could see with her heart-eye what was going on with her family.
Oh, ever since they’d left their beloved mountains of Jalisco the Devil just kept thinking that he could have his way with them but she wasn’t about to let the Great Lucifer have his way. She and her people had been fighting with the Forces of Darkness since the dawn of time and so these battles of Creation were nothing new to her.
Sweeping down into Carlsbad in the daylight, Doña Margarita now took on the form of the big red rooster that lived next door to her son’s little rented house. She burst out of the chicken coop with a flutter of wings and started through the orchard to get the Devil, who was once more tempting Lupe with his toys of fear and doubt. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. Oh, she was ready for battle, as she now came calling and prancing between the trees on her she-rooster legs.
GETTING TO KENNY’S GARAGE, Salvador was out of breath and his feet were hurting. He hadn’t run barefoot in years, and the soles of his feet weren’t tough anymore.
Immediately, he tried the big garage doors, but they were locked, and Kenny never locked his garage doors. Carlsbad was a little village and everyone knew everyone, and so no one locked their doors. Hell, half of the people in town didn’t even take their keys out of their cars, day or night.
Turning around, Salvador suddenly saw that there stood Kenny right behind him with his 30/30 Winchester in hand.
“Good morning, Kenny,” said Salvador, feeling his heart up in his throat. The old gringo looked mad as hell.
“Good morning, Sal,” said Kenny, lowering the rifle.
“I, ah, came over to see you,” said Salvador.
“Good, I’ve been waiting,” said Kenny,” ’cause I ain’t putting one hand on your car ’til we talk.”
“I see,” said Salvador. “So you found them?”
Kenny laughed. “Hell, Salvador, them bullet holes are pretty hard to miss. They’re as big around as cannon holes, damnit!”
“Yeah, you’re right,” said Salvador, “they’re .45 holes.”
“Shit,” said Kenny, pulling on his big nose. “What did you do, Sal? Kill someone? There is blood all over the inside of the trunk.”
“Damn,” said Salvador. “I forgot all about that. But, you see, I was hauling a dead pig for a barbecue and—”
“DAMNIT, SALVADOR!” exploded Kenny. “Don’t give me that kind of HORSESHIT! It’s been too long a night for me, wondering if I’m abetting a killer, or not!
“Sal,” Kenny continued, “you’re going to have to be straight with me, if you expect me to be in this thing with you. Hell, I don’t know, maybe the son-of-a-bitch needed killing! Maybe he’d been terrorizing your mother and your people . . . I don’t know. But damnit, you got me into this thing by bringing your car to me, so now you’ve got to be straight with me, Sal! And right now, DAMNIT!”
The old man was boiling mad and waving his 30/30 all around. Salvador had never seen him like this before. He breathed and calmly looked at Kenny very carefully for a long, silent moment. “Then you haven’t been to the law, eh?” asked Salvador.
“Hell, no!” snapped Kenny. “But I’ll tell you, it’s crossed my mind more than once.”
The skin on the back of Salvador’s left hand began to itch. And he could feel the itching start up the whole of his arm and dig into his left armpit. He put his left hand to his teeth, scratching the itch. No, he wasn’t going to let fear panic him.
“Okay,” said Salvador, “I’ll be straight with you, Kenny. In fact, I’ll be more straight with you than I’ve ever been with any man, Mexican or gringo.” The itching stopped. He felt good now. The Devil hadn’t gotten hold of him.
“Good,” said Kenny, “I’m ready. Let me have it, Sal. But first, damnit, come on in and let’s have a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. My mouth has suddenly gone dry. I’ve been up two nights thinking about this damn situation!”
“But why didn’t you just come by and get me?” asked Salvador.
“Because, damnit, Salvador,” said Kenny impatiently as they went inside of his place, “you’re on your honeymoon, and you’re a good man, and so I, just, well—hell, a man only gets one try in a lifetime to make a home, Sal, and so I wasn’t going to ruin that for you!
“Besides, you brought me your car in good faith, and that showed a lot of trust in me, man-to-man, and so I wasn’t going to sell out that kind of trust to the law. Remember, I was married to a Mexican woman for years. I know how you people get treated. Once the law is brought in, you don’t got a fucking chance!”
Going into the kitchen of his little place behind the garage, Kenny immediately reached under the sink and brought out a gallon jug of boot-leg whiskey. It was Salvador’s product. Sometimes Salvador paid Kenny for his services in bootleg whiskey instead of cash.
“Well,” said Salvador, after they’d had a shot and were waiting for the coffee to heat up, “first of all I want to tell you, Kenny, that, well, I really appreciate you not going to the law. You’re a good man, Kenny, the best, and—”
“Sal, DON’T BLOW SMOKE UP MY ASS!” barked the old man. “Just tell me what the hell this is all about!”
“Well, okay,” said Salvador, “simply, I brought a man across the border and . . . and, well, I shot those holes in the trunk so he could breathe.”
With great deliberateness, Kenny now reached for the jug, then slowly, ever so slowly, he served himself another good-size shot. “Shit,” he said, “normally I just drink from the jug. So why in the hell am I now serving myself drink by drink?”
He took the shot glass in his huge, thick hand. He was trembling, he was so upset. “Nope,” he said to Salvador as he neatly shot the whiskey down his throat, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “sorry, Sal, but that’s still a hard one for me to believe. Just too nice a vehicle to be shooting bullet holes through it.” He shook his head.
Salvador closed his eyes in concentration. What more could he do? He’d told the truth. And then, suddenly, with his eyes closed in concentration he saw it all so clearly. “Kenny,” he simply said, “did you notice that the holes go from the inside out?”
Kenny shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he said.
“Well, let’s go look,” said Salvador. “You see, I had the trunk lid open when I did it, Kenny.”
“Yeah, now that you mention it,” said Kenny, pulling at his big nose with his huge workman’s fist again, “I did notice something odd about those holes. But damnit, Salvador, that story still doesn’t hold water. Who the hell could be that valuable, that a man would shoot bullet holes in his own car?”
Salvador took a deep breath. Here, for a change, he was telling the truth, and he was having a hard time getting someone to believe him. It really was like his mother always said, people were more ready to accept a lie with a good story behind it than the truth told to them straight on. Truth really could be a wildcat not easily housebroken.
“He was Chinese,” said Salvador.
Hearing this, Kenny burst out laughing. “Now let me get this straight, for a Chinaman you shot your own car? This is what you’re telling me?”