I crossed the street, taking great precautions or pretending to (since at that moment there were no cars on Revillagigedo), possibly in order to put off my meeting with María's father for a few seconds. When I reached the other side of the street, the girl raised her head and looked at me. It was Lupe, whom I'd met in Colonia Guerrero. She showed no sign of recognizing me. Of course, the first thing I thought was that Quim and Lupe were looking for a hotel.
"You're exactly the person we wanted to see!" said Quim Font.
I said hello to Lupe.
"How're things?" she said with a smile that froze my heart.
"I'm looking for a safe place for this young lady to stay," said Quim, "but I can't find a decent goddamn hotel anywhere in the neighborhood."
"Well, there are plenty of hotels around here," said Lupe. "What you really mean is that you don't want to spend much."
"Money isn't a problem. If you have it, you have it, and if you don't, you don't."
Only then did I notice that Quim was very nervous. The hand with which he was gripping Lupe trembled spasmodically, as if Lupe's arm were charged with electricity. He blinked fiercely and bit his lip.
"Is there some problem?" I asked.
Quim and Lupe looked at me for a few seconds (both of them seemed about to explode) and then they laughed.
"We're fucked," said Lupe.
"Do you know of a place we can hide this young lady?" said Quim.
Nervous as he may have been, he was also extremely happy.
"I don't know," I said, to say something.
"I don't suppose we could use your house?"
"Absolutely impossible."
"Why don't you let me handle my own problems?" said Lupe.
"Because no one escapes from under my protection!" said Quim, winking at me. "And also because I know you can't."
"Let's go get some coffee," I said, "and we'll come up with something."
"I expected no less of you, García Madero," said Quim. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."
"But it was pure coincidence that I ran into you!" I said.
"Oh, coincidence," said Quim, sucking air into his lungs like the titan of Calle Revillagigedo. "There's no such thing as coincidence. When it comes down to it, everything is ordained. The goddamn Greeks called it destiny."
Lupe looked at him and smiled the way you smile at crazy people. She was wearing a miniskirt and a black sweater. I thought the sweater was María's, or at least it smelled like María.
We started to walk, heading right on Victoria to Dolores, where we went into a Chinese café. We sat down near a cadaverous-looking man who was reading the paper. Quim inspected the place, then shut himself in the bathroom for a few minutes. Lupe followed him with her eyes and for an instant she gazed at him like a woman in love. Suddenly I just knew they'd slept together, or were planning to momentarily.
When Quim returned, he'd washed his hands and face and splashed water on his hair. Since there was no towel in the bathroom he hadn't dried off, and water was running down his temples.
"These places bring back memories of the worst times of my life," he said.
Then he was quiet. Lupe and I were silent for a while too.
"When I was young I knew a deaf man. Actually, he was a deaf-mute," Quim went on after a moment of thought. "The deaf-mute was always at the student cafeteria where I would go with a group of friends from the architecture department. One of them was the painter Pérez Camargo. I'm sure you've heard of him or know his work. At the cafeteria we always saw the deaf-mute, who sold pencil cases, toys, cards printed with the sign-language alphabet. Trinkets, basically, to make a few extra pesos. He was a nice guy, and sometimes he would come sit at our table. In fact, I think some of us were stupid enough to consider him our mascot, and more than one of us even learned some sign language, just for fun. The deaf-mute may actually have been the one who taught us, I can't remember now. Anyway, one night I went into a Chinese café like this, but in Colonia Narvarte, and I bumped into the deaf-mute. God only knows what I was doing there. It wasn't a neighborhood where I spent much time. Maybe I was on my way home from some girlfriend's house, but anyway, let's just say I was a little upset, in the middle of one of my depressive episodes. It was late. The café was empty. I sat at the counter or a table close to the door. At first I thought I was the only customer in the place. But when I got up and went to the bathroom (to do my business or cry in peace!) I discovered the deaf-mute in the back half of the café, in a kind of second room. He was alone too, and reading the paper, and he didn't see me. The strange turns life takes. When I passed him he didn't see me and I didn't greet him. I guess I didn't think I could bear his happiness. But when I came out of the bathroom everything had changed somehow, and I decided to go up to him. He was still there, reading, and I said hello to him and jostled the table a little so that he would notice I was there. Then the deaf-mute raised his head. He seemed half asleep, and he looked at me without recognizing me and said hello."
"Jesus," I said, and the hair rose on the back of my neck.
"You get it, García Madero," said Quim, looking at me sympathetically, "I was scared too. The truth is, all I wanted was to get the hell out of that place."
"I don't know what you were scared of," said Lupe.
Quim ignored her.
"It was all I could do not to go running out of there screaming," he said. "The only thing that kept me from leaving was the knowledge that the deaf-mute hadn't recognized me yet and that I had to pay the bill. Still, I couldn't finish my coffee, and when I was out in the street I took off running, shamelessly."
"I can imagine," I said.
"It was like seeing the devil," said Quim.
"The guy could talk fine," I said.
"Perfectly fine! He looked up and said hello to me. He even had a nice voice, for God's sake."
"It wasn't the devil," said Lupe, "although maybe it was, you never know. But in this case I don't think it was the devil."
"Please, you know I don't believe in the devil, Lupe," said Quim. "It's a manner of speaking."
"Who do you think it was?" I asked.
"A narc. An informer," said Lupe, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well, of course, you must be right," I said.
"And why would he be friendly to us, pretending he was mute?" said Quim.
"Deaf-mute," I said.
"Because you were students," said Lupe.
Quim looked at Lupe as if he were about to kiss her.
"You're so smart, Lupita."
"Don't make fun of me," she said.
"I'm serious, damn it."
At one in the morning we left the Chinese café and went looking for a hotel. At around two we finally found one on Río de la Loza. Along the way they explained to me what had happened to Lupe. Her pimp had tried to kill her. When I asked why, they told me that it was because Lupe didn't want to work in the afternoons anymore; she wanted to go to school.
"Congratulations, Lupe," I said. "What are you going to study?"
"Contemporary dance," she said.
"At the dance school with María?"
"That's right. With Paco Duarte."
"But can you enroll just like that, without taking some test?"
Quim looked at me as if I were in some other dimension.
"Lupe has influential friends of her own, García Madero, and we're all prepared to help her. She doesn't need to pass any fucking test."
The hotel was called the Media Luna and contrary to my expectations, after Quim took a look at the room and spoke a few words in private to the night clerk, he told Lupe good night and warned her not even to think about leaving without letting him know. Lupe said goodbye to us at the door to her room. Don't see us out, Quim said. Later, as we were walking toward Reforma, he explained that he'd had to give the clerk a small tip to get him to take Lupe without asking too many questions, but especially, if it came down to it, not to give out too many answers.
"What I'm afraid of," he told me, "is that tonight her pimp's going to check every hotel in Mexico City."