TWENTY-THREE
The next two years were marked by caution, surreptitious success, and innumerable compromises. Given Elias’s backing and Samuel’s inventory, the store yielded considerable profits, so that slowly the couple filled the space under their bed with money. Every night with the door locked and the window closed they nourished their dream of independence; every morning they spoke in muted voices of living in their own house and running their own shop. For even at their most brazen they remained wary. There was no telling where Eva’s bees were stationed, what grievances they were nursing, or when they were going to pounce out of hiding. Meridia lost count of the number of times they slandered her to the limit. Always, just before anger goaded her to strike, Daniel would interfere. “Not yet,” he would say, drawing her from the fray. Over time, she came to resent these two words as much as the bees.
Meridia took refuge in devising ways to drum up business. It was no coincidence that her most daring plans were conceived when the bees were at their worst. In the summer of her nineteenth birthday, entering her third year of marriage, she came up with the idea of photographing babies alongside jewelry from the shop. She hired a photographer at a bargain, rounded up the neighborhood babies with the help of Leah and Rebecca, and had the man snap pictures of them playing with bracelets and crawling among rings. She persuaded Samuel to run a series of these pictures in the paper. The combination of happy, smiling babies and beautiful jewelry proved to be irresistible. Customers, many of them young mothers, flocked to the shop. One photograph in particular, that of Noah nibbling a large emerald pendant, became the talk of Willow Lane for weeks to come.
In January, coinciding with the next Festival of the Spirits, Meridia dressed Leah, Rebecca, Permony, and herself in celestial costumes from a bygone century. The long muslin gowns she borrowed from two dressmakers, the wigs from a hairdresser, the spangled wreaths from a milliner—all businesswomen she had met with Hannah with the aid of cinnamon toffee and whose friendships she continued to cultivate over the years. To these outlandish costumes she piled on the most eye-catching jewelry. Rebecca and Permony could not stop giggling on their walk to Independence Plaza, but as soon as they sighted the solemn mix of prophets and exorcists, they played their parts to perfection. Ethereal in those watery gowns and waist-long hair, they modeled the jewelry to the crowd like spirits from another world. Bewitched by these creatures, spiritualists came to the shop for weeks after, curious about the rings and necklaces that had lent them such an empyreal grace.
IN THOSE YEARS, THE couple did all they could to deceive Eva. Six nights out of the week, Daniel went to Orchard Road with his most honest face and showed his mother the books for Elias’s inventory. Eva digested the numbers skeptically, always hoping to unveil a dishonesty, yet her rudimentary arithmetic was no match for Meridia’s sly intelligence. On occasion, she insisted on seeing Samuel’s books as well, prompting Elias to yawn in dismissal. “The old goat’s meager stake isn’t worth your time,” he said. To this, Daniel added that Samuel’s inventory was causing him no end of headaches. Customers, he said, neither requested nor desired the pieces. Elias played along. “I’m sorry, son.” He shook his head ruefully. “I owed the man a favor.”
Before Eva could ask questions about the photographs in the paper or Meridia’s antics at the festival, Daniel threw her off the scent by putting on a shamed face.
“We’re desperate for publicity, Mama. A lot of good it did us. We made even less money afterward.”
“What did you expect?” Eva replied with a huff. “Jewelry, babies, spirits. The three don’t even belong in the same sentence!”
WITH NOAH NO LONGER difficult, Meridia steadily regained her vigor. The ghost in her mirror disappeared, taking with it the roughness of skin and unsightly protrusion of bones. Her own emotions ceased to hold her hostage. Those episodes of hopelessness that had often paralyzed her now occurred but rarely. Once again she took pleasure in work, in cooking, and in caring for her family. And as their income grew, they allowed themselves small and secret indulgences. Daniel bought a pair of fine cowhide boots, hiding them the second he glimpsed his mother strolling down Willow Lane. One Saturday out of the month, Meridia had her hair and nails done at a beauty parlor, careful that she was not followed on her walk there. Early on Sunday mornings when only the dead were awake, they took Noah to the market and gorged themselves on salted plums, sticky buns, sweet bean curd in steaming ginger soup. Each time they ate quickly, standing in shade or behind trees so no one could see them.
One thing that helped Meridia greatly through those years was Ravenna’s infrequent yet indispensable visits. To inhale the scent of verbena drifting from a distance, and then to behold her mother’s face and implacable iron knot, was enough to bolster her for weeks. Ravenna stayed an hour at most, just long enough to put the house in order. On the evening of each visit, a blue envelope awaited Meridia outside the kitchen door. Not once in the years to come would Ravenna allow her to mention this.
One night after such a visit, a blast of heat pummeled Meridia awake. She sat bolt upright, eyes and cheeks afire, and blinked rapidly in the dark. Next to her, Daniel was snoring. Noah was asleep in his bassinet. Suddenly the heat in her face shone like a bright yellow sun, spun down her limbs, and lighted with yearning every vein and capillary on the way. Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips turned dry. She tossed the blanket aside and found the frost gone from her bed. For the first time since Noah’s birth, she turned to Daniel and squeezed him in her arms, dug her fingers into his back, kissed his eyes, nose, lips, and desired him so urgently he woke up in confusion. Careful not to meet his stare, she buried her mouth in his shoulder and bruised it with a hunger she had never before known. It was not enough. His grunt as he tore off her clothes resurrected feelings she thought the bees had slain. She shut her eyes, she willed him to pull her deeper. The presence of Noah did nothing to deter her. That night, she cried out Daniel’s name without needing a mark. All she was aware of was the taste of his skin, the lips sealed over hers, the heat that enfolded them where for so long there had only been cold.
THE REKINDLING OF PASSION gave birth to arguments at the dinner table. Eva, naturally, was at the root of them. Mistaking Meridia’s silence for compliance, the mother-in-law became bolder with her demands, sending not only Patina in the morning for food, but also Gabilan in the afternoon for oil, candles, and soap. As Noah grew older, Eva’s unwelcome advice also multiplied: what he should eat and wear, how he should be reared, why an evening bath was more beneficial than a morning one. In most instances, Meridia pretended deafness, but there were times when she turned dinner with Daniel into a battlefield. Their biggest argument, in fact, revolved around a piece of fruit.
One Sunday afternoon, Eva was watching Noah play on the living room floor when she had the idea of feeding him a banana. She took the fruit from a glass bowl on the dinner table, peeled the skin, broke off a generous piece, and mashed that piece between thumb and forefinger. She was in the midst of inserting this pulp into Noah’s mouth when Meridia came out of the bedroom and saw her. Appalled beyond description, Meridia rushed to her son and snatched him. “Time for his nap,” she announced sharply, taking him into the bedroom. Daniel, occupied with bills at the dinner table, had scarcely registered the skirmish when Eva exploded.
“Do you see how your wife treats me? I’m not even allowed to come near my grandson! Don’t tell me you’re going to sit there and do nothing!”
More angry words followed. Refusing to be drawn in, Daniel made no reply. That night, it was Meridia who confronted him at dinner.
“Why didn’t you say something to your mother this afternoon?”
“About what?”
“About feeding Noah that filth. Heaven knows where her hands have been.”
“That’s how she fed me and the girls when we were little.”
Meridia widened her eyes in disbelief. “Are you condoning her behavior? Her revolting, unsanitary behavior?”
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“I’m saying that’s how she is. Don’t you think you were the slightest bit rude, snatching Noah from under her nose like that?”
A bowl jumped from Meridia’s hand and banged against the table.
“Your mother is meddling, Daniel, after she promised my father she wouldn’t. You must take a stand and draw some boundaries.”
“I have taken a stand. Yours. Dearest, aren’t you overreacting? It’s a banana.”
“But what are we waiting for? I ran the numbers in my head thousands of times. We have enough. We can purchase a place of our own.”
Sighing, Daniel shook his head. When the dreaded words came, Meridia could not bring herself to look at him.
“Not yet. You know very well that if we break now, the slightest setback will put us in the poorhouse. Wait a little longer and we’ll be home free.”
Frustrated, yet unable to refute his logic, Meridia pushed her plate and got up from the table. “I’m beginning to think that’s a miracle I won’t see in my lifetime,” she said.
A MIRACLE SHE DID witness in those years left her baffled to no end. Three months after the surgery, Patina’s sparse white hair grew thick and black, her flesh filled out, and all the wrinkles in her face vanished without a trace. Her eyes regained their vivid youth, and as if a yoke had been lifted, her shoulders straightened from their hunch to elevate her above Eva. Healed also were the hooflike bones of her feet. Her toes, strong now and uncurled, permitted her to walk for the first time in decades without pain or hobbling.
One morning, amazed by the mystical joy suffusing the old woman’s face, Meridia asked her, “You look so happy, Patina. What’s your secret?”
Patina smiled brightly. Her teeth were white, even, complete.
“Can you keep it to yourself?” she said, carefully looking around the shop before whispering, “My child, my baby—she gave me back my heart.”
Meridia raised her brow. “Your child? What do you mean?”
Then it hit her all at once. For an instant she felt like laughing, but instead she shuddered, dropping her eyes to avoid Patina’s.
“You think she paid for the surgery?”
Patina was beaming. “Pilar refused to disclose the donor, but who else had that kind of money? Or cared enough about me? People can say what they want, but nobody knows her like I do. To the world she shows a hard front, but inside she’s loving and generous. She made a big show of saying no to Pilar because she didn’t want attention drawn to herself. Do you see? She’s forgiven me! After all these years!”
Meridia, handing her money for Eva’s food, had no heart to tell her otherwise.
The miracle did not stop there. Over the course of the year, a phosphorescent glow illuminated Patina’s skin from within, so brightly that her bones became visible like glass. Little by little her features blurred, first the nose and lips, then the eyes and ears, transforming her face into one transparent incandescence. With every abuse Eva heaped on her, Patina’s diaphanous state intensified until she was no longer discernible to the naked eye. One morning, precisely two years after the surgery, Eva searched for her everywhere and could not find her. Eva turned the house upside down, looked under stairs and inside cabinets, but not a trace of Patina remained. “Has someone misplaced that miserable old crow?” she shouted angrily at Gabilan and the girls. That day, Eva’s steel blue hair began to turn white.
TWENTY-FOUR
It so happened that Pilar, indiscreet, was the one who precipitated their freedom.
A week after Patina vanished, Eva ran into her old foe at the butchers’ aisle and accused her of hiding her sister. Pilar, though she betrayed no shock at the news, denied the charge vehemently.
“If you’re so concerned, then why don’t you alert the authorities?”
“I told her she could leave whenever she wanted to. Why should I lift a finger if she’d rather stay with you in the gutter?”
“Very well then. Patina’s much happier in the gutter than she was with you.”
Swinging her basket like a weapon, Eva retorted that she knew exactly how Pilar had obtained the money for the surgery.
“The whole town knows what you do to earn your bread. The whole town has had a whiff—in one form or another—of that foul cave between your legs.”
Enraged, Pilar spat out the truth. “It was Meridia who gave me the money. Yes, that generous, thoughtful, kindhearted woman who is too good to be married to your son. She was the one who gave me her jewelry and saved your mother’s heart.”
“My mother died a long time ago!” Eva shouted in full hearing of the butchers. “And I never got to know who she was, thanks to your sister!”
More bitter words flew before Eva stormed off, for once paying for her meat without haggling. That afternoon she summoned Daniel to Orchard Road and besieged him with her bees.
“Your wife’s conduct is nothing less than an outrage. Did she consult you, her husband, the father of her child, before she made her decision? That proves how little she values your opinion. And for her to assume I wouldn’t take care of dear Patina myself! That gentle, devoted woman raised me, for heaven’s sake! God knows she’d made her mistakes, but I’d be the last to let her suffer in pain. I’ll tell you what’s cooking in your wife’s vain head. She’s dying to show off who wears the pants in your house. Oh, you should hear the dreadful things Pilar said about you at the market square! ‘One crook of Meridia’s finger and Daniel will do anything. He’ll jump if she tells him to jump. He’ll drop his trousers if she wants him to service her, but only when it’s convenient for her, of course.’ Pilar even said that you wouldn’t have the guts to do anything if you were to catch your wife with a lover! Son, this sort of talk did not come out of nowhere. Your wife must have said something, bragged somewhere about her power over you. Now the whole town is laughing, thinking you’re not man enough to be her husband. After what happened today, I’m convinced your wife plotted with Pilar to steal Patina from me.”
For the first hour Daniel laughed and smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and was successful in swatting the bees off his face. But as the second hour droned on and the insects showed no sign of fatiguing, his vision began to blur along with his judgment. Cunning and vicious, the bees uncovered every crack in his marriage, exposed every insecurity a husband might harbor toward his wife. Those nights when Meridia refused his advances because she felt “indisposed”…her insistence to break from Orchard Road when he told her they were not ready…her refusal to understand that Eva was his mother and he could not altogether cut her out…the banana incident when she felt she had to have the last word on everything…
When Daniel returned home that night, his face was long, his arms covered in small dark marks, and his clothes reeked from a stench Meridia would recognize anywhere. For the first time he was cross with Noah and did not speak to her at all. Having witnessed the bees at work on Elias before, Meridia guessed what had happened. She waited until they were in bed before asking.
“What did your mother say?”
He turned to her slowly. The single dim light on her side of the room allowed him to observe her more than she could him. Under her steady gaze, the bees swirled and clamored in his head.
“She said you gave Pilar the money for Patina’s surgery.”
Meridia nodded without surprise. “I asked Pilar to pawn my jewelry set. I take it your mother was displeased?”
Garbled by the bees, her cool, collected tone shot straight into his vein. Had she sounded less certain, guilty even, he would have thought she had realized her mistake and was sorry for it. But this calm, unruffled confidence, this look of utter irreproachability, gave her the appearance of premeditation.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would never object to it, but the least you could do was ask. That jewelry set was our last safety.”
Again, Meridia’s reply sounded too pat to his ear. “I wanted to spare you the worry. I swore Pilar to secrecy—I never meant for anyone to know—and it’s unfort
unate that you had to find out this way.” She leaned across and reached for his hand. “Don’t fall for it, Daniel. This is another one of your mother’s ploys to divide us.”
The bees screeched the instant her fingers found his. Deafened by the noise, Daniel jerked back his hand.
“Did you have anything to do with Patina’s disappearance?” he asked.
She looked at him. Her beautiful face, with the light behind her, seemed like a riddle he could neither solve nor understand.
“Of course not. I didn’t know Patina was gone until your mother informed us.”
Daniel lay flat on his back. Kissing him good night, Meridia felt a fence going up between them. She pressed her palm against it, gave it a little push, but he closed his eyes and did not open them again.
ANGERED BY MERIDIA’S ACTION, Eva looked for a way to retaliate. She began by dropping small hints, harmless enough to the casual ear, but when she deemed Elias sufficiently primed, her bees struck without mercy where he was most vulnerable.
“She’s grooming Noah to scorn us. Did you notice how that child pouted at me when I saw him the other day? Two years old and his nose already up in the clouds! Let’s face it. She thinks we’re not good enough for her child. I’ve seen how she sneers at you when you play with Noah, making fun of your bald head, I’m sure! Who knows what poisonous things she pours into his ear when you’re not there. Did you notice that Noah threw up on you twice this past week? Gabilan was just saying she’s been washing too much vomit off your shirts lately. I wonder if she’s trained him to do that, making your grandson allergic to you. Malin was there the other day, and she overheard her telling Daniel that you’re unclean! “Noah’s always itchy after your father holds him.” And instead of defending you, Daniel agreed with her. Our own son, turning his back on us! You must do something. Our dignity is hanging by a thread, and before she snaps it altogether, you must stop her. How can you face your father and grandfather if you let a woman mock you, piss on your honor, defecate on your manhood? The next time we pay them a visit, notice how Noah puckers his nose when Permony comes near him…”