‘Neither do I.’
The thunder rumbled and Tony waited for it to pass. The wind was blowing harder and our shadows rocked as the lantern was buffeted by wayward gusts. ‘I don’t think you need to worry about Carlos. Diane’s too smart for him.’
‘You’ re probably right.”
The rain began with large drops. Each one made a wet spot the size of a dime on the hard-packed dirt of the plaza. The wind blew behind us, sweeping the rain over the tin roof and away from us.
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘How are you getting along with your daughter?’
I shrugged, staring out at the rain. The memory of the dream was still with me. My world was filled with uncertainties that I could not explain. ‘All right, I suppose.’
‘I’ve been wondering – it seems like you’ve been worried about something. Anything you want to talk about?’ He was leaning forward, holding his glass in both hands.
I do not like it when friends lean forward and ask me what is wrong, particularly when they are asking about worries that I have not yet admitted to myself. I had a vague feeling, still less than a hunch, that a balance somewhere was shifting and I was losing control.
‘That first summer in Arizona you held everything tight, sealed up, smooth like glass,’ Tony said. ‘But I knew there was something explosive inside. If anything nicked the surface, you would blow up. You’re like that again.’
My arms were folded across my chest. I shook my head. Somewhere in the darkness beyond the swaying circle of lantern light, the shadows were gathering. The world was out of balance.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just feel like…’ I made a quick helpless gesture with my hands. Empty. Open. Vulnerable. ‘I don’t know.’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’ve always wondered which of us has it worse. You keep everyone at a distance, shut them out so they can’t hurt you. I drag people in so close that they can’t help but hurt me.’ His voice was slow and steady, only slightly blurred by gin. ‘Neither of us can find the middle ground.’ He reached out and took one of my hands in both of his, holding it carefully and gently. I liked the feel of his hands on mine. His voice was warm and comforting. His hands were rough from the acid bath he used to clean lime deposits from potsherds.
I find it difficult to let people help. I always have. Tony knew that. He would not push me. ‘I’m afraid,’ I said.
The thunder roared and rain clattered on the tin roof above us. In the flash of lightning that illuminated the plaza I saw a shadow step into the open space, moving with the rain that swept across the hard-packed dirt, yet oblivious to it. In her world, it was not raining.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Tony said.
Another flash and I saw the shadow more clearly: a young woman dressed in blue, her face illuminated by a moon that I could not see. I recognized her by the tattoos on her face: Zuhuy-kak, when she was much younger. I heard the steady beat of a drum, a hollow wooden sound. The woman was dancing, lifting her arms over her head and leaping toward the sky. Another lightning flash: she was whirling and the light glinted on the obsidian blade in her hand. The drumbeats blended with the thunder. Her expression was joyful; her eyes were enormous and filled with power. I felt the moonlight running in my veins, and for an instant, I wanted to join her, to dance with her under the moon.
‘Liz?’ Tony squeezed my hand to get my attention. ‘Just remember that you can talk to me.’
‘I’ll remember,’ I said.
The lightning flashed and the plaza was empty except for the rain. I held Tony’s warm calloused hand and tried not to be afraid.
I was tired. The rain let up soon after I left Tony, but I slept sporadically, awakened again and again by ordinary sounds: the rattling of the door in the wind, the croaking of a frog, the thunder. At dawn, I was glad to leave my hammock and walk out to check on the southeast site.
The ground steamed in the early-morning sun. Most of the water had already seeped away into the soil. Birds bathed in the few remaining puddles. One of Maria’s pigs was napping in a wet spot beside the albarrada.
At the excavation, all was well. Some water had leaked past the tarp that covered the opening, but only a little. The stones were damp.
I went down the steps. A centipede rippled across the floor to hide in the rubble. When I stood erect in the passageway, my hat just brushed the stone slabs. The passageway was about five and a half feet high, three feet wide. Its construction was nothing remarkable: the walls of the stairway were smooth masonry, square blocks stacked neatly. At the top, protruding stones formed a lip on which the flat slabs that made the roof of the passageway rested. The plaster of the plaza had been laid on top of these slabs. The passageway was interesting only because I expected it to go somewhere interesting. I climbed the stairs and stepped out into the sunshine.
Zuhuy-kak squatted in the shade, as if she were waiting for me. I greeted her and she nodded to me, accepting my presence. I sat on a nearby rock and lit a cigarette. ‘Yesterday was the day Oc,’ I told her. ‘The fourth day of Cumku.’
She smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The year ends soon. The time is near. Have you seen my enemies, Ix Zacbeliz?’
‘Last night, I dreamed of a jaguar who stalked me and my daughter,’ I said slowly.
‘He knows that the time is coming for change,’ she said. ‘Cycles are turning.’ She fingered the conch shell on her belt thoughtfully. ‘My enemies will try to stop the goddess from returning to power. You must be careful.’ She turned away from me, her eyes tracing the line of a building that had long since fallen. ‘It is so quiet here since the people have gone,’ she muttered. A lizard the length of my forearm watched us from a sunny rock on the mound. The grasses whispered softly. ‘I did not know it would be so quiet.’
She looked sad and weary. I started to reach out to her, wanting to give her comfort. My hand passed through her as if she were smoke and I sat alone beside the tomb, talking to myself in the growing heat of the morning.
12
Diane
The bush covers almost everything; it is the background within which lie all other special features of earth’s surface. It is never reduced permanently to man’s use; the milpas are but temporary claims made by men upon the good will of the deities who animate and inhabit the bush…
That night, we went to the university basketball game and watched Marcos’s team lose. The game was played in a central courtyard, surrounded by tall stucco buildings. A few stars showed in the dark patch of sky above our heads. Spectators’ shouts echoed from the yellow walls, and a small boy kept the score on a large blackboard. Marcos’s team, long-legged young men dressed in bright green, ran and shouted and stole the ball from long-legged young men dressed in blue. High over the courtyard, the stars moved slowly across the rectangle of the sky.
Barbara and I sat at the top of the concrete bleachers, the only North Americans in the crowd. Barbara leaned against the building that served as the back of the bleachers and put her hands behind her head. Her eyes followed the men as they ran from one end of the court to the other. ‘Wrap them up,’ she said softly. ‘We’ll take them all home.’
On the court, Marcos fumbled the ball and lost it to a blue-clad giant. I could recognize Marcos only by the number on his shirt. ‘Somehow I think Liz would object.’
‘Yeah, she would. She deals with sex by avoiding it.’ I glanced at her and she shrugged lightly. ‘As far as I can tell.’