“She left Friday night.”
“It’s Wednesday. That’s six days today.”
“I can count. What about that…that art collective of hers. Would she be there?”
“Asterisk? Why would she be there?”
“Rubén!”
“Yes, one more second,” Rubén said quickly, raising his hand again. “Look, I’m real busy today, but can I drop by your apartment tomorrow night? I’ll ask around Asterisk about Leonora and tell you what I find out.”
“Fine. At six. I have things to do,” she lied. She simply didn’t want the man knocking at her door at midnight. The super was nosy, and if a man came to visit her late at night and she saw him heading up the stairs with her, she’d be subjected to an interrogation, and she didn’t feel like it. Besides, he looked like a hippie, and she was wary of that. Hippies were all a bunch of losers and marijuanos who gave women venereal diseases and organized orgies; that’s what the people at her office said. Though, to be fair, Maite was curious about the orgies.
“What’s your apartment number?”
“I’m right across from Leonora. Three B.”
“Okay.”
Rubén headed behind the counter again and began pushing the dolly toward the back of the store. The older man had not shifted an inch and was still standing with his hands planted on the counter, eyeing Maite with suspicion. She clutched her purse and hurried out of the place. Good heavens, what a rude man! But, who knew what Rubén was like. With the plural “girlfriends,” maybe he was always bringing women around. Was Leonora one of his girlfriends? She didn’t remember seeing him in any of the pictures at the girl’s apartment, but then she’d been too busy staring at Emilio Lomelí’s photograph to notice any other men.
Emilio Lomelí. What a great name that is, she thought, as she evaded a homeless man asking for a coin and managed to board a bus that, mercifully, had an empty seat in the back. She was wedged against a woman who was trying to soothe a baby and a teenager popping gum, but it was better than the alternative.
During the bus ride home Maite pondered whether she should call Emilio. On the one hand, he was an ex-boyfriend, and there was no need to get him involved in this. But it would be a perfect excuse to talk to him again.
Maite’s main concern was that she would phone and have to speak to a pesky secretary. She could visualize her easily: pencil skirt, glasses, a no-nonsense attitude. Maybe it wouldn’t even be a secretary, but a personal assistant, which sounded much classier. How would she explain who she was and what she wanted to that woman? Maite supposed she could simply say she needed to speak to Emilio about a business matter, but she always got nervous when she talked on the phone, and it was impossible for her to hold a proper conversation with someone she thought was attractive.
Had she been silly when she talked to Emilio the other night? Very likely. You always give people the wrong impression, Maite chided herself, nibbling on a nail. She knew she should stop with the chewing of her nails, and she also knew she simply needed to speak on the phone more often, and then she would become more confident. She wished she had money to get her nails done and her hair coiffed. Other women could be confident because they had good nails and good hair, and Maite couldn’t even consider getting her hair colored professionally.
Money, money.
The car.
Despite her distaste for phone conversations, Maite had to dial her mother. This was one of the rare cases where it was best for her to actually maintain some distance from the person she was conversing with.
As soon as Maite walked into her apartment, she headed for the phone. Her mother answered at the first ring, and Maite smiled. Someone had told her you could tell when someone was smiling over the phone, that it could be felt in the voice, and she was hoping to sound pleasant and polite, but she had not gotten more than a few words in before her mother interrupted her.
“I’m watching the babies, what is it?” her mother asked.
Maite felt like pointing out that her sister’s kids were no longer babies. They could walk around and smear people’s clothes with chocolate, after all. She contained herself, maintaining her tremulous smile.
“Listen, Mother, I have the car at the mechanic—”
“Again? I’ve told you a million times that you need to get rid of that piece of garbage. They took advantage of you when they sold it to you. You should have bought a sensible car, like your sister. You don’t see her trying to drive anything ostentatious.”
“It’s not ostentatious.”
“A Volkswagen lasts forever, Maite. You should have bought a Volkswagen.”
“Yes, I’m sure it does. But, Mother, I need a small loan to pay off the mechanic’s bill. It’s almost paid off, except for the last bit. If the guy didn’t charge me such high interest—”
“What about the savings box at your job? Don’t you deposit money into that?”
“Yes, but they don’t give us the money until December, for the holidays. It’s June. You know that.”
“Your sister never has any trouble making her payments.”
Maite’s smile faded, her face souring. Her sister was also married and their mother watched her children for free, not to mention that Maite knew for a fact she was always buying the kids toys and clothes.
“You spend too much on rent, that’s the real issue. Why do you need two bedrooms? You live alone. For that matter, why must you have an apartment on that street? There’re cheaper places.”
“It’s a central location, Ma.”
“Why do you need a car if it’s so central?”
“You know what, I can manage,” Maite said. “I’ve got to go.”
Her mother started to say something else, but Maite hung up. She stood in the kitchen with her hand on the phone for a couple of minutes before finally walking into the living room. Her parakeet had been happily chirping, but now that Maite approached it, the bird went quiet. The employee from the pet shop where she’d bought the parakeet had told her it could learn how to talk, but it hadn’t ever said a single word.
She grabbed a jar with sunflower seeds and fed the bird a few of these through the bars of the cage. The cage was too small for the bird, and its door was kept closed with a bit of red string, but Maite couldn’t buy a new one.
Maybe if she asked Diana for the money she could pay the mechanic. Maite did a couple of mental calculations, wondering how much she could push for without seeming excessive. Diana was a good friend, but most of her paycheck went toward her grandmother’s care. The old lady suffered from every infirmity known to mankind.