Victor rifled through the contents of his mind to come up with another topic. But Wyatt, chomping his food and gulping his wine, got in ahead of him. “God, that’s good ham, Helen. I haven’t had ham that good since some faraway Easter of my youth. But let me just say one thing-” Now he tipped his great bulk toward Viera and Victor. It was like being addressed by a mountain. “Just let me say that if I can get those two to testify-those two women I mentioned-and Lorca,” he added with heavy emphasis, “it’ll toss one big fat monkey wrench into the works of that committee, you bet it will. They won’t be able to ignore testimony like that. Call me an optimistic fool, but I think we can stop that military aid. I think we can stop it on the fifty-yard line.”
“They will not let Lorca testify,” Victor said. “Or any of the others. They will not. You don’t know them.”
“All right. You’re raising a cogent point there, Ignacio. Very cogent. Part of the reason for my trip to D.C. was to organize security. You would not believe the red tape that involved. It all has to be approved by the State Department, of course.”
“The State Department? But you said the State Department favours the military. They provide the liars and experts, no?”
“The State Department employs twenty thousand souls, Ignacio. Not all of them have a stake in seeing your country ruled by a gang of thugs. I assure you, every precaution will be taken to ensure the security of our witnesses.”
“Perhaps Ignacio should testify,” Viera said. “Did you know he was a prisoner in the same place as Lorca?”
“That so-called school?” Bob turned to Victor and laid a heavy hand on his forearm. “Well, damn, Ignacio. Maybe you should trundle on down to TVA sometime. Come with Lorca one night.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I just want to forget.”
“Can we please stop talking about torture and murder and the military,” Helen said. “I mean, there is a limit. There really is.”
“Okay, that’s it. That’s all,” Bob said, holding up his hand like a traffic cop. “Our Blessed Lady of the Table has spoken, and I for one have no intention of violating her wishes.” For the next twenty minutes or so, Bob devoted himself to getting back into Helen’s good graces. He suggested she think about teaching a cooking course at night school, probed her about her childhood in Minneapolis, asked if she had any sisters as attractive as her. My God, Victor thought, you may be dangerously naive, but you sure are a first-class politician.
Viera, too, appreciated his efforts, as men do whose wives are difficult. The lawyer became relaxed and thoughtful-something he could not do when straining to surround everyone in good humour. Gradually Bob steered the conversation back to Washington, and Helen was so charmed she pretended not to notice.
Wyatt told them which congressmen were on the committee, who was likely to vote in what direction, and what other organizations would be likely to produce witnesses. His enthusiasm and absolute belief in the justice of his cause were hard to resist. Lorca eyed him with furtive admiration, and Victor felt a good deal of admiration himself. But as Wyatt talked on, a familiar sense of dread spread inside him like ink. The powerful presence of the man, his booming voice, his big gesticulations-even though he was a vastly different person from Captain Pena-Victor felt a similar loss of control in his presence. Once again, one fate was being sideswiped by another.
Apple pie was brought in, eliciting another fountain of hyperbole from Wyatt. Once or twice Lorca smiled at Wyatt’s remarks, flashing her broken tooth then dipping her head to conceal it. Victor felt the sting of jealousy. Yes, she really admired this man, perhaps even had a crush on him. It would not be a good time to ask her to the movies; Wyatt completely dominated the room.
This was Victor’s fantasy as they sat on at the table: If Bob did not interfere, he would gradually become closer and closer to Lorca. Eventually, he would apologize to her for the hideous things he had done to her. He would get down on his knees and beg her forgiveness. And, all things being possible in fantasy, she would forgive him. Just imagining such a moment sent a thrill of relief through him.
And then? Well, his fantasy grew cloudy beyond that point. But things were going well between him and Lorca. Things were going very well, and there was every chance that eventually …. But now this half-trained grizzly beside him was diverting the flow of events into another direction entirely: Washington, congressional hearings, sworn testimony. It boded ill for Victor, very ill, and he said a fervent prayer for Wyatt’s non-existence.
TWENTY-TWO
Victor worked out a plan to ask Lorca the question that he had never got to ask last time. He had been rehearsing it over and over in his head ever since. He would arrive at her brother’s office-casually, as if he had just happened to be in the area, shopping at Macy’s ….
“But where are your packages?” Lorca demanded, when he was standing in front of her desk. She was slotting files into a battered cabinet. Victor was alone with her for once; her brother was in court. “You go all the way to Macy’s and you don’t buy anything?”
“I was looking for-looking for jeans.” Nervousness made him stammer. “They didn’t have my size. They were sold out, unfortunately.”
“You are so fat, is that it? They don’t keep those gigantic sizes?” She spoke without looking at him, slamming one drawer shut and opening another.
“My problem is the opposite,” Victor went on, trying for a jaunty tone. “A thirty-two waist is very common. They sell out of this size very-”
Lorca answered the phone, informing a caller that her brother was in court and would not be available until tomorrow. She went back to her filing, and Victor tried to think of something else to say, but he was too nervous, alone with her like this.
Lorca had trouble closing the bottom file drawer. She yanked at it, and suddenly the whole drawer came free, crashing onto the floor, sending files slithering. She kicked at the cabinet, swearing violently in Spanish.
Victor knelt to pick up the drawer. He had to stack the files neatly on a couple of chairs first. Lorca was leaning back against the wall, covering her eyes with one hand.
“Objects,” he said quietly. “Objects can drive a person crazy sometimes.” He leaned past her to stack some files. He could feel the heat of high emotion from her skin. He fetched her some water, rinsing out her coffee cup at the drinking fountain down the hall. “Go on, take it.”
She took the cup from him with a distracted scowl, as if she had never seen such a mug before. Tears shone on her face. He handed her a Kleenex from a small box on the desk, and waited a few moments until she seemed calmer.
“I know it’s not a good time now, Lorca. You’re upset. But I wondered if you would like to go with me to a movie this Saturday. A comedy called Fat Tuesday.”
“No.” She took a sip of her water, put the mug down. She tore another Kleenex from the box.
“All right. Okay. Maybe another time. Maybe when you’re feeling better.”
“I’m never going to feel better, Ignacio. This is how I am. I used to be a strong person, you know? Not anymore. Now, a file cabinet can make me cry like a baby. That’s what I am. I am not going to feel better. Don’t waste your time on me. I don’t know why you would, anyway.”
“I thought you might enjoy seeing a movie. And I would enjoy your company.”
“Go away, Ignacio. You don’t want to know a person like me. I am not a person. I am a ghost.”
Victor walked to the door. He stood there for a moment with his hand on the knob. Finally he said, “I too was sentenced to death once, Lorca. I too was saved at the last minute. Why shouldn’t two ghosts see a movie together? Maybe together we would make up a whole person.”
“Please, Ignacio. Just leave me alone.”
“The movie is at six-thirty, if you change your mind. The corner of Eighth Avenue and Fiftieth Street. Not far from here.”