Up, Down and Out

Conchita and Anita arrived about mid morning at Socorro, the capital and only city on the island of Maria. Anita had come to meet her family. Conchita had returned home. Little had changed since she left it. The plaza was still there with its center gazebo, where once the municipal volunteer brass band played on Sundays. Members of the band were given lunch afterwards, which caused serious consternation amongst many of the citizenry who, had to feed them; you know how free musicians eat. Girls, looking for boyfriends, would go marching clockwise, while eligible bachelors marched counter clockwise passing love poems written on little pieces of toilet paper. Some of the girls, who were very precocious for their age and who were dying to have sex, were always hoping it was they who got some of the hand drawn dirty pictures some degenerate was passing around.

The band hadn’t played in a long time, not since the tuba player swallowed his dentures. This happened when he hit a high-sustained note while playing the US Anthem for distinguished members of the US Coast Guard. The Coasties had landed on the island by mistake thinking it to be Catalina Island.

They climbed up the hill where Juan Carpintero’s house stood surrounded by banana, papaya and passion fruit plants. Flowers were planted along the stone fence and along the pathway. Just like it used to be when she was a little girl. She almost expected their dog, to come running to greet her. The front entrance was as it used to be. There had never been a door at the entrance, just a square opening. In fact, very few private houses in Socorro had doors. "Who needs them?" About the only buildings that sported a door were the church and the cantina. Not even the local jail had a front door, and besides, who would want to rob the jailhouse?

Wonderful odors were coming from the kitchen. It smelled like fish soup, the kind that was milky and thick with balls of corn masa in it. Her mother used to make it so good and rich, with spearmint leaves in it. Her stomach did a somersault with joy. “I wonder where everybody is? Mother should be here, it is almost time for Father to return from fishing.” At least the lunch smelled as if it was about ready.

"Pee-yew, what is that smell, Mother?" Conchita realized she had made a mistake bringing Anita here after all. She was totally unprepared for this. It was her fault for having romanticized her hometown. Anita was looking for the Garden of Eden that she had described to her. "Don’t worry, darling. You don’t have to eat anything you don’t like."

"But you told me I will be eating Mexican food everyday, not fish. You know how I detest fish. I like burritos, tacos and tostadas. Taco Bull, mostly." Oh boy, you will not see the likes of them here, Conchita thought. White rice, black beans, fried bananas and fish, yes!

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Ana Maria had just bought the “El Diario de San Salvador”, the morning newspaper. She was looking for a job. She didn’t really have to work. Her last employer had been very generous to her. She had sixty thousand Cordobas in the Central Bank of El Salvador, about sixteen thousand US. That would keep her going for a long time. She owned her house and although it was fairly modest, it was located on the outskirts of Escalon, a well-to-do area in San Salvador. Her needs were few. Living alone was the worst you could do to somebody like Ana. She soon tired of the same daily routine. She needed to find a job somewhere, preferably with some Gringo family. After the war, Gringos owned everything. Let’s see, here is one, she said circling a want ad with her pencil. “Wanted, Cook and light housework. Prefer a live-in maid. Looking for mature woman to care for widower retired American military man. Some knowledge of English is highly desirable. Knowledge in use of modern electrical house appliances required. Do not apply without references. Call 780-8481 for an appointment."

When Ana got to the Gringo’s house, there must have been half a dozen women waiting for the interview. Ana Maria didn’t like the looks of this. It appeared to her that any of the women there could fill the Gringo’s requirements. Some had that look all young Costa Rican prostitutes looking for Gringo husbands had. Ana suspected treachery. "If any of you think you are going to take this job away from me, you don’t know Ana Maria Bruno," she told herself.

Ana Maria looked around as if not knowing where she was and said in a voice loud enough for everyone there to hear, but addressing the first lady to her right, "Excuse me, can you tell me if this is the place where the Gringo with AIDS wants to hire ladies to give him blood?" When the gringo came out, only Ana Maria stood there for the interview.

"Where is everybody?" The Gringo asked. "I don’t know," Ana answered, "when I came in, nobody was here."