Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
“Can I have a swig, too?” he asked Doña Margarita, not really understanding much of what she’d said.
“Sure,” she said in English.
“But the doctors have all told you not to—”
“Ah, pipe down!” he told his sister. “They haven’t done beans for me!”
“Beans?” said Doña Margarita. “Oh, yes, frijoles de la olla with a little clay added will be muy good! You’re weak! You need to have—”
“A young woman!” he said.
“No, a goat,” she said.
“A goat?” said he.
“Yes, goat’s milk,” said she.
“Oh, okay,” said he, “goat’s milk and whiskey sounds pretty damn good after all the expensive crap that these damn doctors have been giving me.”
“And a hot bath to make you sweet,” she said.
“Sweet!” he said. “Like candy, make me sweet?”
“No, sweet,” said Doña Margarita.
“Oh, sweat! Sudar! Oh, yeah, to get my stink out!”
“Yes,” said she, “get your stinking caca-shit out!”
By the time Doña Margarita got to his back, old man Irvine was feeling no pain. And she wasn’t either, taking a swig now and then as she worked his body, massaging him with her hands, her elbows, her fists, her feet, like a strong, little, wiry monkey, crawling all over a hard rock.
She had the young priest and Irvine’s niece get eucalyptus leaves from trees in the driveway and boil them with salt and tomatoes and clay from the creek. Then she put the whole mess into the tub for old man Irvine to soak.
Then when they were alone, Doña Margarita explained to Irvine, in no uncertain terms, that the reason that the doctors hadn’t found anything wrong with him was because nothing was physically wrong with him. And American doctors, she explained, only knew how to heal the body like a mechanic fixing a car, and so they knew nothing of how to get into the heart and soul.
“And you, you stinking old man, are sick in your heart and soul,” she said to him, “because you did something very bad, and now it’s coming back to get you. You see, the Devil is tired, so he doesn’t wait for us to die anymore to get us down into Hell for our misdeeds. No, he now lets us have our own personal Hell here while we’re still on this Tierra Madre. And you, you’re so rich and stubborn and used to having your own way, that now you have the Devil’s horn up your ass, eh?” She laughed. “You’re muy burro—stubborn, so your head doesn’t let your corazón know you are sick in your soul. This is why you feel that you’re choking.”
“It’s true,” he said. “I have been feeling a choking pain in my chest.”
“Of course, smart people who only listen to their head are the biggest pendejos of all, and you know what I’m talking about, because you are very pendejo-estupido when it comes to the matters of the heart, eh, cabrón!”
“I’ll be damned,” said old man Irvine, smiling, “I haven’t had someone insult me so much in years. And you do it with such gusto!”
“Gusto your ass!” said Doña Margarita, laughing. “Don’t you start getting all excited on me, viejo condenado! You listen to me, you did something very bad, eh, so terrible that you are poisoning yourself. The Devil is just waiting to take you to eternal damnation if you don’t wake up. So don’t be getting excited on me just because I’ve given your feet a little plea-sure!
And saying this, Doña Margarita stopped laughing and looked straight into his eyes, and when he started to look away, she grabbed him by the face and held him eye to eye.
Looking at her, eye to eye, he finally breathed, then he breathed again. Then he reached up and gently took both of her hands in his. “You’re right,” he said, becoming serious for the first time, “you’re absolutely right. I did something that even surprised me. But it’s done,” he said, “it’s done. So I can’t do anything about it now.”
Soothing his hands like a mother does with a child, Doña Margarita said, “I see, I see, you can’t do anything, because it’s done. But I ask you, does the Spring say to the Summer, ‘Look, I did it, it’s done, so I can’t do anything now.’ Does the Summer say to the Fall, ‘Look, I did it, it’s done, so I can’t do anything about it now! Does the Fall say to the Winter, ‘Look, I did it, it’s done, so I can’t do anything about it.’
“No, the Spring, the Summer, the Fall, the Winter, all know that Life, la Vida, is Circular, Sacred and Never Ending, and so what goes around comes back around, so when you poison your neighbor, you poison yourself.”
Suddenly, old man Irvine went pale. “But how did you know!?!”
“What? That the seasons of the year go around and around, working together like the five fingers of the hand?”
“No, about the poisoning—you know, of my neighbor?”
“Oh, that? Everyone knows that.”
“They do?”
“Sure, we can smell it. You stink of poison. And people don’t normally poison themselves.”
“I see,” he said. “I see. Then it’s that easy for you Mexican people to see these kinds of things?”
“Sure, back home in the mountains, we didn’t have telephones, but still we knew how to call long distance. We’d put our two hands over our heart and send our feelings to the person that we wished to talk to. The heart knows no distance when we go through God. How could there be? God is everywhere, and so are we when we’re God-Connected. And now you’re old and dying, no doubt about it. You stink of death.”
“My God!” he said. “Do you call these your bedside manners?”
“God, yes,” she said, “manners no. Because unless you’re willing to open up and talk to Dios, you’re one dead, smelly, old duck!” she added, laughing with gusto. “And you know it!”
He started laughing, too.
“Good, laughter is the first step toward getting sickness unstuck from a closed-up body like yours. Then the next step is that you face up to what you did, admit it, then ask for God to please forgive you. This is what freewill is all about, us choosing to be in good Graces with the Almighty. Sickness is no accident ever since we left the Garden, viejo. And sickness never starts as an ailment of the physical. No, sickness starts as a disharmony of the Soul that then goes on for so long that finally even the body succumbs to it.”
His eyes went large and he held, looking off into the distance, to a “place” where he rarely went, then he nodded and nodded again, and his eyes began to water as he lay in the tub full of hot water, boiled eucalyptus leaves, tomatoes, salt, and clay.
“You’re not a bad man,” she continued in a soft, soothing voice. “No one is born bad. It just happens that we pick up a lot of fears in passing through this rugged, hard terrain of this Life as we journey back Home to Dios. You are a good hombre, a very good old man, you just need to rest a little, trust a little, or all these riches and power you have will come to nada, nada, nothing. Now rest, and close your eyes, and know that Papito loves you very much.”
“Really, even after all that I’ve done?” he said.
“Yes, even after all that you’ve done.”
“I’ve done terrible things to your people, too,” he said.
“Yes, I know,” she said. “Many of their Souls are Here in this room right now. In fact, the elders of the tribe that you ran off their Sacred Lands are here, in full dress, visiting from the Other Side.”
“You can see souls?” he asked.
“Of course, and speak with them, too.”
“How is that possible?”
“Can you hear the radio, and doesn’t the radio come from a great distance? It’s the same thing. Back at one time, we were all like cats and dogs who can hear and smell what humans can’t hear and smell. We could see and hear the Spirit World. All of our senses were intact.”
“These souls, they’ve come to see me suffer and die, haven’t they?” he said.
“No, they’ve come to pray that you might finally see the Light,” she said.
“Really?” he said.
“You are not a bad man, only a man who’s resisting the Light. You see, Here could be no Light without Darkness, Sound without Silence, Life without Death, God without Devil—for All is Round, Complete, and Whole.” She kissed him on the forehead. “You are a good man, a very good man, and now the time has come for you to Balance yourself in Love.”
He was crying like a baby. He, this man, who was so used to being all hard and mean and completely in charge.
“It’s okay,” she said, holding his head and massaging his back. “It’s okay. Show me a rich man, and every time I’ll show you a man whose fear is that of never having enough tit. Show me a powerful man, and I’ll show you a boy frightened to death of his tanates being too small. Show me— eh, this bottle has only a little left, so let’s drink it, okay?”
“Help yourself.”
“Oh, yes, that I always do!”
And so she stopped massaging him with the whiskey and finished off the bottle, giving a loud burp.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked.
“How can you pay me,” she said back to him. “Money and I have no interest in each other, and money is all you have and drove you to your present sickness.”
He nodded, and she could see that she’d hurt his feelings. “Look, you want to pay me,” she said, “then pay me by giving me some of your toilet paper that you have here. This is the softest, best-feeling ass-wiper I’ve ever felt, and I’ll think of you every time I—”
The laughter that burst forth from the old man was so huge, so full of gusto, that everyone came running to see what was the commotion!
The young priest had to almost carry Doña Margarita to the car, she was so tipsy and tired, and yet happy. Big Happy!
THE STARS WERE OUT by the million in Corona. It was way past midnight. Lying down in the front room, Lupe could hear Salvador and Luisa visiting with their mother. They were such a different family from hers. It shocked her how they treated each other, yelling so much.
“But mama, Luisa has a point,” Salvador was saying with gusto, “if you’re so close to God, then why is it that you’re so ugly?”
“UGLY, ME?” yelled the old woman, laughing so loud that it even startled Lupe in the next room. “Why, mi hijito, don’t you know?” she shouted. “I am the STANDARD from which all beauty is measured! If it wasn’t for me, there’d be no beautiful people! Why, coming down the street what do people say—and sometimes even aloud—’look at that dirty, ugly, little, old woman.’ But in truth, they are saying, ‘hey, I look pretty good and young compared to her.’ I make their day! I put a smile on their face! Why, the rich, arrogant, beautiful people of this world would all be lost without me! I am the BASIS of all BEAUTY!”
Salvador and Luisa were laughing con carcajadas. Their old mother could just never get rattled. In her world, she was as Complete and Round and Whole as Creation.
Doña Margarita finished eating. Luisa’s boys were asleep with blankets on the floor. “Okay, I’m tired,” said the old woman. Walk me home, Salvador, I need to go to sleep. I had a long day doing God’s Work today.”
“Yes, mama” said Salvador.
“Good night, Luisa,” said the old woman, “and may you all sleep with the angels. Ah, just look at your boys, Luisa, they are such good, hand-some boys. God bless them.”
Luisa and her mother hugged and kissed, then Salvador walked their mother out the back door and to the outhouse, where he relieved himself under the avocado tree while his old mama went inside the little outbuilding.
The air was crisp and cool and the Stars were blinking close and bright; smiling.
Finishing, Salvador buttoned up his pants and went inside of his mother’s little shack, lit the kerosene lantern, and started up the little, wood-burning stove to get the chill out of the air.
“You must be so happy,” said Doña Margarita, walking inside of the little shack.
“I am,” said Salvador. “I love Lupe so much and now we’re with child. Would you like a cup of yerba buena to warm you, mama?” She nodded, going to her bed. It was really cold. “Mama,” continued Salvador, “I’m in trouble.”
“How is that?”
“Well, I’m still lying to Lupe about what it is that I do for a living.”
“I see,” said the old woman, getting under the covers to get warm. “And this worries you, eh?”
“Well, yes, of course, mama?
“Why,” she said chuckling, “aren’t you man enough to be a good liar?”
“Well, yes, I guess so, but mama, I don’t want to just keep lying to Lupe forever.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because—oh, mama, we’re married now and I’d like to be truthful. Besides, sooner or later she’s bound to find out the truth.”
The old woman burst out laughing. “Isn’t this the truth! Lying doesn’t really bother most people, it’s the fear of being found out that really troubles most souls!”
He turned all red. “Mama,” he said, “but must you always be so blunt?”
“And why not,” she said. “I don’t fear life or death, God or Devil, and I’m too old to start pretending now! Hell, at this age even my own pedo-farts sometimes slip out without me being conscious of them. So no, I will not worry about what comes out of my mouth!
“So you’ve been lying to Lupe, eh, lying about everything you do, and now it’s not your conscience, but your fear of being exposed that is putting all these well-placed lies—that you built your marriage on—in jeopardy? Oh, I tell you, I feel sorry for the poor Devil with so many people starting to out-devil the Devil!”
“But what in God’s name are you saying, mama, it was you who suggested for me to lie to Lupe about my liquor making in the first place!”
“And did I put a gun to your head, eh, forcing you to follow my suggestion? Oh, no, you did as I suggested because it fit into your way of thinking. Don’t try out-deviling me with the Devil, for I know el Diablo’s evil ways as well as I know the ways of God!
“But I do have compassion for you, mi hijito,” she added, “just as I am now beginning to feel compassion for the Devil, too.”
“Compassion for the Devil, mama, even after all the killing and evil that was done to our familia?”
“Mi hijito,” said the old woman, “you should have been with me at this poor, rich man’s home.”
“What house?”
“Where I took the wallet full of money to a grand looking house just south of Santa Ana with a long lane of eucalyptus trees.”
“That’s the Irvine place,” said Salvador.
“Errr-eevin who?” said Doña Margarita. “I don’t know. I never asked the old man his name, but he was all poisoned inside.”
“Deserves him damn right!” snapped Salvador, leaping to his feet. “He poisoned the crops of Whitehead, a fine man who’s worked for him for years!”
“Mi hijito,” said the older woman, making the sign of the cross over herself, “I’ve told you a thousand times that it is not for us to judge or to blame. Each person is his own world, and each world must find their own light, like any other Star in the Heavens.”
“But Whitehead tried to shoot himself with a gun because of what Irvine did to him, mama!”
“And this Errr-eevin tried to kill himself with poison,” she said. “Be compassionate, mi hijito, these poor lost gringos are a very self-hating people. I tell you, this Errr-eevin smelled worse than a week-old, dead skunk when I arrived. But then I massaged his feet and bathed him in herbs, giving him a little pleasure, and the old goat got all excited on me!”
Doña Margarita laughed con carcajadas! “Are you saying this, mi hijito, because you are morally outraged for me, or do you say this because you find it impossible for a man to get aroused for me?”
Salvador didn’t know what to say.
Doña Margarita continued laughing. “Oh, what little you have seen. You still see me with eyes of child. Your old mama is a very sexy old woman! Why, today alone, Father Ryan himself was hugging and kissing me all he could until I had to stop him!”
“Mama!” said Salvador.
“Oh, stop it, and grow up! How do you think I got your father to marry me? How do you think I was able to wrestle him away from all the other girls of my village who were all crazy-locas about this tall, handsome, redheaded stranger! Why, I moved my eyes like this, walked with perfect posture, so that my cute little behind would then sway back and forth with such—”
“Mama, please!” yelled Salvador.
“—advertising that here moved the hottest little nalgas de salsa in the world!” She laughed. “Your father’s tongue was hanging out three feet by the time we got married, and did we get to work making love! Oh, it was beautiful for the first fifteen years of our marriage, two, three, four, five, six times a day! But then, came that bad, awful winter and all the highlands turned white with snow and wolves came down in packs—you know the rest of the story well. He lost faith in God and life, and then even in nuestro . . . amor.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I loved your father so much. So very much,” she said. “But don’t worry, this old Eeeervin and I did nothing yet. I just showed him a little love and understanding and the old fool’s tool got aroused. Why, it even surprised him,” she said, laughing. “I don’t think he’d experienced a good big, hard one in years,” she added. “These gringos, they seem to know so much about money and power, but then they are so lost when it comes to finding peace here in the heart.” She breathed. “I could see it in his eyes; why, he’d done something that even the Devil, himself, hadn’t thought of doing.”
She made the sign of the cross over herself. “Forgive Eeeervin, dear Father, for he doesn’t know what he does. And forgive the Devil, too, he’s feeling lonely and wants to return Home to You, Papito.”