Thirteen Senses by Victor Villaseñor
“And so when the time comes that you meet God, face to face, you will say, with your tanates in hand, ‘I DID IT, GOD! I take FULL RESPONSIBILITY!’ And you will not blame the woman you love! Or it will not be Devil or God who comes looking for you, IT WILL BE ME! Your MOTHER, the GARRRR-AAA-PATA up your SPIRITUAL ASSHOLE for all ETERNITY!”
Salvador was laughing and crying, both at the same time!
“I promise you, mama, I promise you, I will not blame Lupe when Papito Dios comes asking.”
“Good! Because—oh, that story alone shows me, that not only was the Bible—as we know it—written by men, but by weak, scared men, too! For no man with tanates blames his Love like Adam did to poor Eva!”
Crying and laughing, Salvador took his old mother into his arms. “Oh, I love you, mama! I love you so, so, so much!” he said.
“Of course, I was the first pair of tits you sucked!”
“Oh, you are awful, mama!” he said, laughing.
The Stars were Dancing!
The Stars above were Singing, Dancing, Rejoicing—GOD’S SMILE!
IT WAS DAYBREAK when Epitacio came running to the house in Corona. He was dropping dead on his feet. He’d run the whole way from Lake Elsinore. And he wasn’t a young man anymore. He was a fat, middle-aged man who’d just run the run of his life!
“I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE!” he was screaming to Luisa. “Salvador will have to do it himself!”
“Epitacio!” Luisa was trying to tell him, “Lupe is here! Lupe is here!”
But the frightened little man just couldn’t shut up. This was when Salvador came rushing in, gun in hand.
“What the hell’s the commotion?” he yelled.
“I can’t do it anymore!” screamed Epitacio. “They killed my two older brothers right in front of me!”
“Who killed them!”
“Los rurales! The soldiers! Hanging them, and cutting their guts out!”
“You mean back in Mexico?”
“Yes, in the Revolution! I’m tired of running, Salvador! I’m tired of being afraid of every sound! I don’t want to go to prison like Domingo. I’m not brave! Ask anybody. They’ll tell you! I’ve never been brave!”
“Okay,” said Salvador, seeing Lupe staring at the pistol in his hand. “It’s okay. Calm down, and come outside with me so we can talk.” He put the .38 snubnose Special in his back pocket.
“No, the coyotes are outside! I want to go to bed. Luisa is fat and round and all warm and I want her to hold me! I’m not brave! I’m not brave! Ask anyone!”
Salvador took a deep breath and looked at his sister Luisa, who was now ready to take the frightened little man into her arms and give him love. And he turned and looked at Lupe, his young bride, lying in bed and looking at him, not knowing what to think, but having so much love and compassion for this scared little man, too.
And so Salvador knew that this was a time for him to back off, a time for him to be soft and understanding, especially here in front of these two women, but he couldn’t! For he, too, had been a child of war—years younger than Epitacio—when he’d, also, seen his brothers and sisters raped and killed before his eyes, by the soldiers in the name of justice! But, still, he hadn’t run out on his responsibilities!
No, he’d stood up at the age often, becoming the head of his familia!
And so he, Salvador, now leaped forward, grabbed Epitacio by the throat and swung him about, and shoved him out the back door, over Luisa’s screams of protest! And past Lupe’s startled eyes!
“Get in the car!” bellowed Salvador, dragging Epitacio to the Moon. “We have business to do! And I don’t care if you’re brave or not brave! You will finish what we started, and do it now, you son-of-a-bitch! Does a woman have choice when she’s birthing! Does the deer have choice when the lion has him by the neck! Business is business, and we will finish our DAMN BUSINESS!”
Luisa was bellowing like a cow who’d lost her young. Then she picked up a rock, trying to hit Salvador on the head with the rock as he shoved Epitacio inside of the car!
“Stop it, Luisa!” yelled Salvador, ducking the rock and shoving his sister so hard she fell on her ass. “Stop acting like a cow losing her calf! I’m not going to kill the cabrón! I’m just teaching him BUSINESS responsibility!”
Leaping to her feet, Luisa grabbed up another rock, a huge one, and she threw it with all her might, shattering the rear window of the Moon as Salvador sped away in the Moon with Epitacio.
Lupe stood by the back door, watching the whole thing. She just didn’t know what to think or do.
In heart-crushed agony, Luisa turned, still crying, and when she saw Lupe looking at her, she bellowed even louder than before! “What the HELL are you LOOKING AT! Nobody asked you to be watching!”
She charged Lupe like an enraged cow, shoving her off the steps of the door as she ran back into her home, slamming the door closed, and bolting it.
But Lupe was quick, so she was able to leap out of the way before Luisa could put a good shove on her.
Behind the closed door, Luisa continued crying in heartfelt agony!
Lupe stood all alone in the early morning light, still not knowing what all this was about, rubbing her arms to keep warm. This was when Lupe heard a voice singing quietly over by the avocado tree. It was a beautiful voice and sounded so happy and at peace.
Walking over, Lupe discovered that the singing was coming from the outhouse. Then she saw this little movement underneath the partial door, and she realized that she was seeing the bottom of Salvador’s mother’s skirt, rocking back and forth as she sat in the one-seater.
“Is that you, Lupe?” asked the old woman.
“Yes, Doña Margarita,” said Lupe.
“Well, I’d invite you to come in to join me, mi hijita,” said the old woman, “but this is only a one-seater.”
Saying this, the old lady opened the door and she was sitting with a shawl wrapped about her, her Bible and rosary in hand, a homemade cigarrito hanging from her mouth, a cup of coffee in her other hand, and she looked so happy. A lit candle was at her side with a picture of Jesus and the statue of the Virgin Mary.
Lupe almost laughed. Without any hint of embarrassment, Doña Margarita was doing her daily calling.
“Isn’t it a beautiful new day,” said the old lady. “Look at that soft, early morning light coming down through those large, beautiful branches of the avocado tree. You know, this big, wonderful tree and I have been helping each other every day for years now. I shit in this outhouse a good, nice caca everyday, feeding her roots, and she in turn gives me the biggest, tastiest, juiciest avocados in all the area. Aaah, we’re so happy together, this tree and I,” she said, smoking her homemade cigarrito and looking so much at peace as the outhouse filled with little white clouds of smoke. “And God works with us both each day, blessing this tree and I with light and warmth—all day long. Aren’t we just lucky. Then I make myself a fresh tortilla de maiz for breakfast, cut a few slices of avocado, add a little salt and salsa, and oh, it’s Heaven Here on Earth, I tell you! Mmm mmm! So tell me, how did you sleep last night, mi hijita, good, I hope?”
“Well, yes, I did, but excuse me, didn’t you hear the commotion, señora?”
“Oh, that? Well, yes, of course, I heard it. But haven’t we all heard these commotions before?” She yawned, stretching and giving a happy little laugh. “Mi hijita, when it’s all said and done, these disturbances are no more than a pedo-fart in the wind. You are with child. Don’t let any of these ups and downs of life, la vida, disturb you from your task at hand. What you are doing—what is happening to you inside of your body—is a Sacred Miracle, is a Blessing straight from Papito Dios, and not to be disturbed.”
“Then you aren’t worried by this fight that just happened and how Salvador grabbed that poor man so violently?”
“Worried, me? Oh, no, the Stars in the Heavens will worry first! My only worry I now have—or concern to be more exact—is this big, nice, long, juicy caca that I can no
“Look at these ants,” continued Doña Margarita as she put her cup of coffee down on a shelf next to the lit candle by the statue of Maria.
“The ant season is over, but still they work on so industriously. You know,” she said as she now took the candle to relight her homemade cigarrito with big, air-sucking sounds, “the queen ant, she runs the whole show. And all the males are so well behaved. I just love watching them, and learning from them. We talk together, you know, the ants and I, just like this tree and I talk together, too. And last year, we came to an agreement, the ants and I, and now, well, I’ve started feeding them outside during the summer months when they’re so active, and that way they don’t come into my house. Except, of course, during the time of those wood-eating termites, then nothing can keep the ants out. Oh, they really clean the wood-eating termites out of my house for me. Isn’t it wonderful,” she said, smiling, “how everything in all the world works so wonderfully together in the Sacred Circle of Living if we just relax, and watch, and learn, and keep out of the way, realizing that everything is perfect already, and has been perfect for millions and millions of years, and will continue to be perfect . . . forever!
“And us, and our short little stay, is less than a pedo-fart with all of our accumulated knowledge. Why, this tree is smarter than we will ever be. And these ants are smarter than us, too.”
She laughed, picking up her cup of coffee and saluted to the statue of Maria and the picture of Jesus, but then—when she went to sip—she found the cup empty. “Ah, Maria, You-Trickster-You, You drank my coffee again when I wasn’t watching, eh? You saw that, eh, Lupe?”
“No,” said Lupe, shocked, “I didn’t see the Blessed Mother drink your coffee.”
Doña Margarita laughed. “No, I mean, you saw that my cup still had coffee in it when I set it down, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, I thought so,” said Lupe.
“You did. Don’t ever doubt your own senses. Maria, here, she has developed quite a few bad habits staying around with me. Would you like some coffee yourself, Lupe?” asked the old lady.
“Well, yes, I would,” said Lupe.
“Good, would you then go inside of my home and get yourself a cup, and get Maria and I a refill with plenty of sugar—what, Maria? Oh, no, not now, Maria, later. It’s too early to be drinking. Yes, that’s right. Okay, okay. You see, Maria likes a little whiskey in our coffee, but I told her no.”
“I see,” said Lupe. “The Virgin Mary drinks whiskey?”
“Wine mostly, you know that, but I don’t want any whiskito right now. Hurry, Lupe, and oh, yes, Maria also says to please come out and join us, Lupe, in our discussion if you’d like.
“After all, you are now a married woman with child, Maria says, and so it is time for you to know the secrets of our—our trade,” said the old lady, laughing with gusto as she handed Lupe her cup. “Oh, now Maria is calling what we women know ‘our trade’! Oh, Maria is so funny! Every day Maria and I trade cuentitos. So go on, Maria, as You were saying.”
Taking Doña Margarita’s cup, Lupe turned and headed for the little shack in back. In many ways Salvador’s mother reminded Lupe of the Tarahumara Indian woman who’d been the midwife of their village. She’d been the outrage of their settlement—old and foul-mouthed and married to a man half her age.
Opening the door to the little shack, Lupe was instantly taken back with the fantastic smell of roses. The fragrance was pure Heaven. Then she saw them, the most gorgeous bunch of roses she’d ever seen!
“THAT DAMN SISTER OF MINE!” screamed Salvador as he and Epitacio sped out of the barrio. They took the road around town and down into the canyon that traveled from Corona to Lake Elsinore. “I’ll kill her when I get back! And you, how could you just leave our distillery like that, Epitacio? You did at least lock up the place, right?”
Epitacio didn’t answer. No, he just sat looking petrified.
“Oh, my God,” said Salvador, glancing at him, “you didn’t lock it up, did you? You son-of-a-bitch! You just ran out the door because you heard something!”
“And saw something, too, Salvador!”
“What?”
“Eyes!”
“Eyes?”
“Yes, and they were big, Salvador! Grandisimos! And they were everywhere! Two eyes here, two eyes there! Two eyes all over the place!”
“You were drunk!”
“I don’t drink, Salvador. You know that.”
“Two eyes, my ass!” said Salvador. But still, hearing this story, he reached under his seat, getting hold of his .45 automatic.
It was a narrow, twisting dirt road all the way down the canyon from Corona to Lake Elsinore. There was a little stream, oak trees, and an occasional grouping of sycamores.
Calmly, Salvador lit up a cigar. “All right, now tell me everything, Epitacio, and especially anything unusual in the last few days. I don’t want us getting caught with our pants down. A man with his pants down is in a very dangerous position.”
Epitacio’s whole face turned red. “Well, once, when I went out for groceries, they, well—ah,” but the frightened man didn’t finish his words.
“EPITACIO!” screamed Salvador, grabbing him by the throat. “TALK! DON’T FUCK WITH ME! Our life is on the line!”
“They gave me a ride home,” he added quickly, “because I’d bought so much.”
“And why did you buy so much!?!”
“Because, well, I—”
“Did you invite them inside!?!”
Epitacio was swallowing. He just couldn’t stop swallowing.
“You did, didn’t you!?!”
“No! No! No! Salvador! They never came inside.”
“But they saw where you live, Epitacio,” said Salvador. “In a good house on the gringo side of town. That looks suspicious! Damnit, damnit, damnit,” added Salvador, but he wasn’t yelling anymore. “You’re out. Epitacio,” he said calmly. “You’re out. You were right. I can’t have you working for me anymore. You’re looking to get us caught.
“You’ve reached that place in the poker game of life where a man no longer cares about winning or losing. All he wants is out, one way or another. I’ve seen it a thousand times. There are no accidents. Domingo was asking to be caught. He’d lost his nerve, and that’s why he fought and acted so brave against the cops once they had us. Cowards, not brave men, are the ones who always go looking for wars.”
And saying this, Salvador breathed deeply again and again. “And who were they, these people who brought you home?”
“The people of the grocery store.”
“Man, woman? Come on, talk! Explain! DAMNIT!”
“A brother and a sister.”
“Okay, but they never came inside, right?”
Epitacio nodded.
“Good,” said Salvador, “but you’re out, you were right, you’re not brave.”
“Never have been,” said Epitacio.
“Okay, I understand, but now, I still need for you to help me. We’ll ride by the place, look around, then go over to that grocery store and see how they treat you. I’ll read their eyes, especially their left eye, and then we’ll decide what to do.”
Epitacio nodded. “Then I can go back to Luisa?”
“Yes, then you can go back to Luisa.”
“Oh, good!” he said full of warmth and gusto!
Salvador almost laughed. Hell, it was he, who was on his honeymoon, not this middle-aged, fat, old man.
Driving by the house, Salvador saw that the front door was wide open. His eyes shot huge! He glanced at Epitacio.
Epitacio was swallowing so fast, he could hardly speak. “I think I, well, might have left it open when I ran out,” he said.
“My God,” said Salvador. “My God!” And he was now swallowing, too. But not out of fe
Epitacio told him and they drove over and went inside. Salvador had his .45 under his shirt and his .38 in his back pocket. Who knew, maybe these people had set up Epitacio, stolen all the barrels of whiskey, and were now selling it out of their store. But he had to keep calm, calm as a reptile in the desert, eyes half closed and hardly breathing, so he could study these people in a calm manner.
Watching carefully, Salvador saw that the store people really liked Epitacio, especially the woman. And they weren’t nervous at all. They seemed very relaxed and straightforward. Epitacio and Salvador bought a few things and went back out to the Moon. Seeing the car’s shattered window, Salvador remembered his sister Luisa and took a big breath.
“You’ve been playing el coo coo cooooo with that woman in there, haven’t you?” said Salvador to Epitacio. “That’s why you bought so many groceries, to impress her, eh?”
Epitacio said nothing. He just turned all red once again.
Salvador shook his head in disgust.
“You’re not going to tell Luisa, are you?” asked Epitacio as they got back in the Moon.
“I’m not thinking about that right now,” said Salvador. “Now, we got business to do.”
They drove back by the house, then parked in a large, open field way behind the house. They watched the place as they ate some of their groceries. They never saw any movement. Finally, this was it. Here was no more waiting or watching or hoping. Salvador opened the door of his Moon and got out, brushing the crumbs off his pants and shirt.
“You know, Epitacio, I don’t even know how a man like you thinks inside of his head. And I’m not saying this with anger or malice, I’m just saying that I can’t understand how you, or my brother Domingo, really think. My God, Epitacio, we had a good thing going, a little gold mine, so how could you be so stupid and careless?”
Epitacio sat in the Moon just nodding and listening. “Maybe, Salvador,” he finally said quietly, “Domingo and I don’t think. Maybe that’s the whole thing.”