We got Ferdinand inside the house. There were clothes piled up and a couple of men’s magazines on the couch with naked señoritas on the cover. One was open to a centerfold and there was a German shepherd in the picture with a lady one could no longer describe as young. In fact, she looked as if she might have been more at home with a horse.
The doctor paused long enough to flip the magazine closed and toss it off the couch.
I glanced at Beatrice. She looked at me and shook her head. We sat Ferdinand on the couch. The doctor disappeared into the other room.
Ferdinand said, “They are not his magazines. He has a very crazy son. He is my friend’s shame. He lives here with his father.”
“The question is,” I said, “does the son have a German shepherd?”
“I do not think so.”
The doctor came back carrying a bag. He pulled up a chair in front of the couch, sat in it, carefully lifted the old man’s leg, placed the foot on the chair in front of him and began removing the bandages.
The injury was pretty bad. You could see where the old man had poured some kind of red stuff over the wound, and it wasn’t bleeding badly, just sort of oozing, but it was too deep and too wide for stitches, though the old man had tried.
The doctor clucked over it for a moment. He got a bottle of whiskey out of his bag and gave it to Ferdinand. Ferdinand unscrewed the cap, took a snort. The doctor took the bottle back, took a snort himself. He offered us some. Beatrice and I declined.
The doctor went away, came back with a pan of water. He went to work on the leg, cleaning it, snipping away the thread where the old man had tried to sew what couldn’t be sewed.
I went out on the front porch. The smell of the wound bothered me. I had smelled far too many wounds in my lifetime. Beatrice came with me.
She said, “He will be out of work now.”
“What about the kid, José? Or his brothers? Can’t they work for him? Help you out.”
“They would expect to be paid.”
“If you catch fish, pay them. If you don’t—”
She laughed. “It is so easy for you, is it not. Being an American. There is always money.”
“I don’t know what you think you know, honey, but one thing is for damn certain, I haven’t got any money. Leonard and I own a dime and we let each other carry it from time to time, but heaven forbid we should spend it.”
Beatrice shook her head. “My father owes money, you see. He has to make it back. He will pay the doctor from his catch. Give him fish. We need every fish to make every peso we can. Not only to live, but to pay back his debt.”
“He borrowed money?”
She looked at me with those beautiful, soulful dark eyes.
“He borrowed for me … It is not your business, Hap.”
“Very well,” I said.
She studied me for a moment, as if trying to make certain I wasn’t going to wrestle it out of her. When she decided I wasn’t, she told me anyway.
“He borrowed from a man who adds much interest. He borrowed so that I could go to the United States, to the university. He has been paying it off all along. And I, well, I did nothing with my time there.”
“You chose to come back. You could have done something with your education if you wanted.”
“Let me put it this way. One night I am in the U.S., and I am out with friends, and they order fish. And I am looking at the fish, and thinking, this is what my father does, and he is doing it every day so I can be here. I decided to come home, help him earn the money back. This was more important. I knew he would never pay it off. The debt would be there. It was right for me to assume the debt.”
“What about what you told me before? Being like your mother. Or feeling obligated to be that way.”
“That is part of it too, Hap. If I were smart, I would have got a job and helped pay off the debt. My degree would have helped do that. Instead, I come back and live like a peasant to pay off this big loan by helping him fish. What kind of thinking is that, if it is not the thinking of someone who believes they are trying too hard, and wrongly, to rise above their station.”
“If you’ll forgive me, Beatrice. It’s stupid thinking.”
“I know. But I do it just the same. Let me tell you why I want you to leave tomorrow. My father has a charter. A big important charter. Men who want to fish. They have agreed to go out three days. They will pay a lot for this. Far more than the cost to fish. They are rich Americans and my father has guaranteed them each a trophy fish. There is a place where there are plenty of great fish. My father knows it. If the fish are not there, we do not make as much. And I must be very kind to one of these men.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“I am not yours, Hap.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t like the idea of any woman having to be nicer to a man than she wants to be.”
“I have met this man. He is not my favorite. But this money, it could pay off our debt to this other man I told you about.”
I was liking the sound of it less and less. But Beatrice was right. It was not my problem. And she was not my woman.
“What happens if you don’t find the fish?”
“This man my father owes. He is a man with much pride. More pride than the need for money. He can be unpleasant.”
“Jesus, Beatrice. Your father is in to a loan shark?”
“He is more than a shark. He is a school of sharks. One time a man owed him and did not pay, and this shark, Juan Miguel, he had the man killed, the body skinned, boiled, and sold his skeleton to a medical school.”
“That sounds like a story to me, Beatrice.”
“This is Mexico, Hap. Stories like that are real here. The final word is this. We owe him money. We are behind in our payments. He has threatened my father. He and his thugs.”
“Your father doesn’t seem worried.”
“He is worried. But he keeps it to himself. He will seem even more congenial now than before. It is his way of dealing with disaster. Tomorrow he will lose the big charter because of this, and then there will be no way to pay the money.”
“My God, how much could he owe?”
“In American money, it would be eighty thousand dollars.”
“Christ. A fishing trip, even if these guys catch ten trophy fish apiece, won’t pay for that.”
“But it will keep him at bay. We have managed to pay some of the debt already.”
“He loaned a fishing peasant eighty thousand dollars? He’s an old man. How would he think he’d ever pay that off?”
“The debt is his, then it passes to me. He pays what he can, and I continue to pay throughout my life. With interest, of course.”
“You should have stayed in the U.S.”
“Then they take it out on my father.”
“Then he should have come to stay with you.”
“It is his debt, and he feels obligated to pay it. It is not like for you, Hap. He could not just go to a bank and get a loan.”
“Hon, I couldn’t get a bank to loan me the time of day.”
She studied me carefully, to make sure I was serious. She sighed abruptly and looked off toward the ocean. I had the uncomfortable feeling she might be waiting for me to offer her money.
I said, “Seems to me it would still be worth sharing with José and his brothers. That would be the best way, wouldn’t it? Have them help you fish, pay as you go.”
“My father does not want to give away his place to fish. José and his brothers, they are good boys, but they would tell others. They work for whoever they have to work for. I do not blame them. But this place, my father needs to keep it secret.”
“If it’s so full of fish, why does he often go without fish? Today he didn’t come back with fish. Except the shark that bit him.”
Beatrice didn’t answer.
“Listen, Beatrice. I’m just an ol’ East Texas boy, but I’m not dumb. And I mean no disrespect, but what you’re telling me, it doesn
’t add up. I hate to be one to talk about welshing on a debt, but in this case, where your life is in danger, why don’t you just run for it. Go to the States and forget it. Pay it back later if you feel you owe it. When you can.”
“You cannot run from Juan Miguel. Don’t worry, Hap. I have told you more than I should. Really, this is not your business.”
It never is, I thought.
We walked back into the main part of town and ordered some food for Leonard. They wrapped it in brown paper and put it in a sack. I went back to the doctor’s house. The doctor loaned the old man a pair of crutches, and he used them to go with us back to his boat.
Beatrice and I helped him secure it, then we made our way to their car, and Beatrice drove us to their place.
On the way, the old man talked very pleasantly to me. You would have thought nothing had happened to him. That this injury didn’t matter. He acted like someone eccentric and wealthy who didn’t worry about money.
Beatrice, on the other hand, was quiet. A cloud seemed to have descended over her. Or perhaps I should say a darker cloud. From the moment I met her there hung about her a grimy aura of disappointment, as if all her ambitions were living things that she had seen slaughtered.
At their place I checked on Leonard first thing. He said, “It’s about time you came back. Hell, I’m bored. I read the Vachss book. Great. I got up enough energy to look for more books I wanted to read, but there wasn’t much in English that interested me. Where’s Beatrice? The old man? What’s his name?”
“Ferdinand. By the way. He had an accident.”
“Accident? What kind of accident?”
I told Leonard all about it. Gave him the details of the day.
“I’ll be damned. Where is he?”
“With Beatrice in the kitchen. Fixing some food. I brought you some. I thought we’d be back a lot earlier. Sorry. Hope you weren’t too hungry. I was going to get you some vanilla cremes or wafers, but couldn’t find any. Actually, I didn’t look that hard.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and handed Leonard the grease-stained sack. Inside were burritos and tacos.
“Think you got enough?” Leonard said, peeking into the sack.
“I figured you’d be hungry.”
“You’re right. I ate the bread and cheese right away. Got bored. This smells great … What about us going home? You made a call, right?”
“Right. Go ahead, eat.”
“Something’s wrong? It always is, so why wouldn’t it be now.”
“I didn’t say that.”
While he ate, I said, “You know, I heard a joke the other day at the chicken plant.”
“Oh no. I don’t want to hear it. Your jokes suck, Hap. And that means things aren’t going well. You always try and soothe me with a joke. It only makes it worse. So just cut to the chase.”
“I didn’t say I had bad news.”
“But you do. I know you well enough to know something’s come up.”
“All right. I have some bad news.”
“I knew it.”
“Well, considering I have some bad news, you might want to hear my joke.”
“Just skip the joke and go straight to the news.”
“Then you’ll never hear this great cowboy and Indian joke.”
“I can see now you’re going to tell the joke. No matter what I say or do, short of killing you, you’re going to tell me this goddamn joke. Am I right?”
“I heard it from a fella out at the chicken plant.”
“You said that. How bad is the news on the other side of it?”
“Not that bad.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Go ahead … Wait. Why me, man? Can’t you just save these for someone who cares? I hate jokes. You always do this when I’m sick or injured. Which, come to think of it, when I’m around you, is pretty frequent. I got to tell you, Hap. I been thinkin’ I want to put my feet up some. Know what I’m saying?”
“You want to put your feet up.”
“I mean, I love you, brother, but there’s something about us, when we mix together, it makes shit. Know what I’m sayin’?”
“I do.”
“Maybe we could call one another, have lunch, go to a movie. Double-date. Me and John. You and whoever … But man, we plan something big together, I seem to always get shot, knifed, beat, et cetera. And come to think of it, you look pretty good. You aren’t cut up or banged up.”
“I got a few bumps. And hey, I been on the bad end before. Don’t make yourself too special. Now the joke. There’s this cowboy—”
“ ‘Shit. Go for it.”
“—and he’s captured by Indians. The chief says, It’s the custom of our tribe to give the condemned man three days of granted wishes. Stuff besides ‘I want to go home.’ That kind of thing.”
“This sucks already. You can’t tell a joke to save your life.”
“So, the chief says, Cowboy, you got three days and a wish a day. Use them wisely. What do you want first? Cowboy says, Let me talk to my horse.
“Cowboy calls his horse over, whispers in the horse’s ear, horse thunders off, and just before sundown the horse shows up with a beautiful redhead on its back.”
“Man or woman?”
“In my story it’s a woman. Has to be for the story to work. You’ll see.”
“All right.”
“Cowboy takes the redhead into the tent and they make love, he puts her on the horse, and the horse thunders off, taking the redhead back to town. Or wherever.
“Next day. Oh yeah. The horse has come back. That’s important.”
Leonard sighed.
“Chief says, This is your second day, your second wish. What’ll it be? Cowboy says, Let me talk to my horse. He whispers in the horse’s ear, and off thunders the horse.
“Near dark, horse shows up with a beautiful blonde on its back. Cowboy and the blonde go into the tent where he’s held captive, and make love. He puts the blonde on the horse, and the horse takes her away.”
“Don’t forget the horse comes back again … Am I right?”
“Yeah. The horse comes back. So, the horse is back, and it’s the last day, and the chief says, Pick this wish wisely, cowboy, because it’s your last.
“The cowboy sighs, says, Let me talk to my horse. He calls the horse over and grabs it by the ears and puts his face close to the horse’s face. He says to the horse, Listen, stupid. Read my lips. POSSE. POSSE.”
I paused.
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “So.”
“Think about it …”
“Oh, I get it. Now isn’t that funny. The horse thought he was saying pussy. You heteros are just full of fuckin’ fun. Hap, I want to go home. Tell me what happened with the phone call.”
I told him.
“You got us a room in town, though, right?”
“That’s right.”
“So the worst is a little delay?”
“Well, yes. But …”
“Oh, shit. No.”
“Don’t panic.”
“Don’t hesitate.”
“I’m supposed to call Charlie tomorrow. He’s setting things up. But way I see it, Ferdinand saved our lives. You’re out of it anyway. Why don’t I sort of help them out on the boat.”
“You can’t even float a paper boat, Hap, let alone go out on the ocean and fish. Didn’t you learn anything from our short cruise?”
“Yeah, don’t insult the guy at the ship’s restaurant. You’re blaming me, but think about who really got us into this mess.”
“It was your idea to go on a cruise.”
“Actually, it was John’s.”
“You’re right. When we get home we’ll kill him.”
“I bet he’s watching that Kung Fu thing right now.”
“Could be. Or he’s taping it. Him and Charlie probably call each other up and talk about the characters.”
“You see, Leonard, way I see it is, I can at least volunteer to be a deckhand t
ill the old man gets better. It’s a bad wound, worse than yours, but he can probably get around in a few days. Beatrice and I can take care of business till then. And there’s another thing.”
“There always is.”
“Ferdinand owes some money.”
“Define ‘owes some money.’ ”
“I think I should help you to the outdoor convenience.”
“I didn’t ask to go.”
“I think you should go anyway.”
“Well, actually, I do need to go.”
“Good, that way I can tell you in private.”
Leonard rolled to the side of the bed. “Hell, I can walk by myself. I feel a lot better.”
“But you’ll humor me.”
“If I must.”
Leonard put on his shoes. I put my arm around him and helped him outside. It was fairly dark and the moon was up and it was a fragmented moon. Clouds scuttled across the sky and in the distance I saw sheet lightning rage across the horizon. You could smell rain in the air, but it was still some distance away.
As we walked, I told Leonard the story Beatrice told me. He went inside the outhouse, and I stood outside, leaning on it, talking to him, finishing up my story through a split in the walls.
“Let me see,” Leonard said. “She went to the States, and her father provided the money with a bad loan. She got a degree, but then felt sorry for her father. She was being driven by an inner force to return and do traditional Mexican woman things. And now she’s in a tight spot with someone named Juan Miguel who might kill her and sell her bones to research, and she’s going to pay a big chunk of the money by sponsoring a three-day fishing trip to a secret place where fish live, but the old man doesn’t seem to go there on a regular basis even if he is living on crumbs and owes a gangster thousands of dollars. Duh.”
“Maybe it’s just worth more to him to go there when he’s got rich tourists. It could be like that.”
“And when I come out of this outhouse I could be white, bowlegged, and have a vagina, but it isn’t likely. Bottom line is, you’re gonna help her, aren’t you. And, of course, you would like me to help.”
“That sounds about right. Hurry up, man, it stinks.”
“You think it’s rough out there, you ought to be in here.”
“What d’you say, Leonard? Shall we help?”