When he passed in front of the funeral home, he plucked the showy orchid. Then he climbed up the steep street that marked the edges of the exclusive neighborhood of Los Molinos, where the majority of the highest-ranking government officials lived. It was almost night already when he arrived at the three-story building where his aunt Benigna lived. There, more than anywhere else, the streets were full of red flags and the houses displayed full-color pictures of Cornelio Rojas with the slogan that had been read and heard a thousand times: Education, Production, Defense.
Danilo Castellanos took a deep breath before going up the stairs that would take him to the third floor. He wasn’t a criminal; he had never stolen and, until then, he had been a dignified history teacher, respected for his moral inscrutability and his far-reaching knowledge of Ancient Greece. But he had to escape. He had become so disenchanted with Cornelio Rojas’s revolution that he had a duodenal ulcer and a nervous tic in his eye, which made him especially insecure in front of women. He had to act. Caesar did far more to gain power. Without hesitation, he skipped up the forty steps and as if he were in a movie, saw himself knocking at the door marked number thirty-three, where the shameful sign also hung, announcing, “This is your home, Cornelio.” He didn’t have to wait long. From the other side of the door, came the voice of an old woman asking, “Who is it?”
And Danilo, waving the orchid, responded in an incredibly firm voice, “It’s me, auntie, your nephew Danilo.” A few tense seconds of waiting passed, and then the door opened slowly, allowing the old woman to show her mistrustful eye and study the visitor’s appearance. The yelling came right away, “Lord in Heaven above! Kid, it’s you! I haven’t seen you for years!”
The door opened completely and Danilo melted into a hug with that feeble body that smelled of castor oil and he felt a long, cold kiss on his ear that turned his stomach. She was ugly, wearing a house dress buttoned up to the neck and the skin of her arms and face appeared to be made of onion peel.
“Lord in Heaven above! Lord in Heaven above!”
“Aunt, auntie, you’re looking so well!”
“I’m an old lady about to kick the bucket. But you, son, you’ve become a man. The last time I saw you was at your mother’s wake.”
“I remember.”
“You’ve let me down, Danilo. You don’t even visit on my birthday. I bet you’ve forgotten the date on which your poor aunt was born.”
“Honestly, yes I have, auntie. But I haven’t completely forgotten you. I still remember how much you like orchids, and I bought you this one at the cemetery flower shop.”
“It’s so beautiful! I’ll put it in the refrigerator with some aspirin so it lasts several weeks.”
She turned around with the orchid in hand and Danilo had time to scan the apartment. There were cactus plants of various kinds in every corner. And there were cats, many cats dispersed among the sofas and armchairs. The whole house smelled like cat piss. But, his aunt was already back, was already asking about old relatives, as silent as he was, who didn’t even call on the telephone. She came with the enormous family photo album and took a seat on the sofa, next to Danilo.
“Do you want some crème de vie?”
“No, auntie, I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Just like your mother, may she rest in peace. Nevertheless, she was luckier than me; she got a husband. Just look, look at the photo of your mother when she was fifteen years old. Wasn’t she pretty? Now look at me, always closing my mouth so no one would see my cavity-ridden teeth. And this one is grandma Salvadora, and that one is grandpa Papito, and here’s your aunt Patria, who married the mailman, and here. ”
At that moment, Danilo brought his hand to his stomach and made a grimace.
“What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
“Diarrhea, auntie. For the last week, I’ve had diarrhea.”
“Then go to the bathroom, child. Don’t lose any time.”
She took him by the hand and quickly led him to the toilet, warning him to use the least amount of paper possible and to flush when he was done. Danilo nodded in agreement to everything with an expression of extreme pain. When he was alone in the bathroom, he went directly to the sink and started frantically tapping the tiles. One of them sounded hollow and was nearly loose. It was the tile. The treasure tile. Danilo took a nail clipper out and began to carefully scrape the corners of that tile.
“Damn!” He thought. “This is going to be easier than I expected.” He stuck an edge of the nail clipper through a gap and soon the tile was in his hands, clearing the way to the treasure. Danilo plowed his hand in and started to feel around in the hole. From outside, he heard his aunt’s voice again, who asked him solicitously,
“All better, son?”
“Almost, auntie.”
“I have toilet paper for you here, it must’ve run out. Can I come in?”
“Not now, auntie. I’m on the toilet.”
“That’s nonsense. Have you already forgotten that I bathed you until you were 15 years old? I’m coming in. You’re like a son to me.”
Danilo didn’t have time to stand up. His aunt came in at the moment he was taking his hand out of the hiding place with a thick pile of 100 note bills.
“Thief!” His aunt yelled, bringing her hands to her head. “You’re nothing more than a vulgar and repulsive thief. Leave that money where it was!”
“Aunt, auntie. forgive me. I need three thousand pesos. It’s a matter of life or death.”
“Leave! Leave this house or I will call the police!”
“Three thousand, beloved auntie. I’ll pay you back in a month.”
“Earn it by working for it, you rat. Break your back.”
Danilo walked over to her and took her by the shoulders.
“Auntie, you have to understand. ”
“I don’t understand anything. Police! Police! There’s a thief in this house!”
Danilo shook her forcefully by the shoulders, but he couldn’t help the fragile woman from escaping from his hands and falling to the floor, knocking her head on the edge of the bathtub with a resounding thump. Immediately, blood ran down her head and her dentures fell out of her mouth.
“Aunt! Auntie!”
Danilo kneeled down before her and tried to revive her by tapping her face. He spent a few minutes doing so, until he understood that his aunt would never recover from that fall. He took her pulse and knew she was dead. He tried to close her eyes, but these were looking lifelessly at some undefined point on the wall. There was no time to lose. Danilo forgot about the old woman and filled his pockets with bills and jewelry. He had to leave quickly. He was no longer Danilo the teacher, or even Danilo the thief. He was Danilo the murderer, and that, under Cornelio Rojas’s government, carried the price of the firing squad.
In two steps, he was at the door of the house. He opened it, very carefully, and when he saw there was no one on the stairs, he started to run down the steps toward the street.
Ferryman, ferryman. you’re to blame. Although perhaps the real culprit was Cornelio Rojas whom he ran into on the street, looking at him with grave eyes from a street mural.