Signal to Noise(44)

“I am single,” Meche said to her cousin. “I am also uninterested in Sebastian Soto.”

“And I thought you’d be glad to see him.”

“I haven’t talked to him since I was a teenager. Why would I be glad to see him now?”

“Well, seeing as you did like him back then...”

“I also painted my nails neon green one time. It doesn’t mean I’m rushing to buy puke-coloured nail polish this instant,” Meche muttered.

“Uh, you know who was hot?” Jimena asked. “That C kid... um, Constantino Dominguez.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s married now. He’s fat and married and balding,” Jimena said. “He’s got three kids and they’re all damn ugly. Who would have thought?”

“Does he still live around here?”

“No. I saw him at the mall a couple of times when I was working in a pet shop. He chatted with me for a little bit. At first I didn’t recognize him, but then when he began talking I remembered. Constantino Dominguez.”

“Do you remember a girl named Isadora?” Meche asked. “She was in my grade, so maybe you didn’t know her.”

“In the Queen? Before you went away?”

“Yeah. She was pretty. Skinny, tallish.”

Jimena snapped her fingers. “I remember her! She was Sebastian’s girlfriend, wasn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Meche said.

But Meche did know. Even though Meche did not speak a word to Sebastian after the spring of 1989, even though she moved to a different city that same summer, she was aware of it. It was hard not to be aware of it when she lived three blocks from him. Three blocks and three knocks. But those blocks stretched miles long, separated them as though they were oceans, and she did not take the path which led to his apartment building after that time at the factory.

That time...

“Well, she married him.”

“Isadora is married to Sebastian?”

“He’s not married,” Jimena said. “Weren’t you paying attention? I said he’s single.”

“Yeah, but...”

“They got married right out of high school. We all thought she was pregnant. It’s the same thing as with his brother, we thought, but no. It lasted maybe a year. Was it two? It wasn’t long. They divorced, she moved back in with her parents and he ended up moving away. You know, he was living in Monterrey in 1998. I thought for sure you guys had met up then.”

“I wasn’t living in Monterrey in 1998,” Meche said. “I had already moved to Europe.”

“Oh, well. Then you missed each other.”

“Probably.”

Meche squeezed some more liquid soap onto her sponge.

“He’s in marketing now,” Jimena said.

“I didn’t ask,” Meche replied.

“You were wondering about it,” Jimena said with all the aplomb of the neighbourhood gossip. “Same as you’re wondering if he’s seeing someone: I don’t think so.”

“Man, your mental powers suck, Kalimán,” Meche said.

“Well, then what are you thinking?” Jimena asked, giving Meche a little bump with her hip.

Meche frowned, looking at the murky, soapy water and the cup she was washing.

“I’m thinking about music,” she said.





Mexico City, 1988





DECEMBER BROUGHT THE Nativity play. Sebastian, Meche and Daniela had non-speaking roles, playing shepherds. Isadora, Constantino and their friends were the angels and the demons in the pastorela, as befitted their station.

Meche sat with her friends at the back of the room and watched her classmates rehearse their lines, her eyes fixed on Constantino. The handsome boy had not talked to her again. The party, the dance, remained a freak occurrence. Had the magic driven him to her? Had it been something else? She did not know.

Meche could not spin fantasies in her head like Daniela; she could not feed on phantom lovers. She wanted Constantino and she wanted him now. What to do? A love spell? Would the others agree to perform it with her? Meche felt too ashamed to tell them about it. She could imagine the face Sebastian would make. He would laugh. But there seemed no other way.

Meche rested her elbows against her knees and leaned forward.

“Is your grandma going to bake a rosca de reyes?” Sebastian asked.

Food. A primary topic for Sebastian.

“Yeah.”

“Nice. When is she making it? I’ll come over.”

“I don’t know.”

“You can also buy a slice at the posada in two weeks,” Daniela reminded him, lowering her romance novel for a moment.

The posada was part of the play. Or, rather, the play came before the posada. After the performance was finished, the students and their families were ushered out into the school courtyard, where food stands offered typical Mexican Christmas foods and treats: mandarins, tejocotes, sugar canes, tamales, tostadas. Punch made with guava. Chocolate and atole to stay warm. There was a Nativity complete with life-sized figures of Joseph, Mary, the baby Jesus and the three kings. A pi?ata dangled from a rope, ready for the students to smash it to pieces and collect some of the candy. People bought tickets for a raffle and purchased holiday knick knacks made by the mothers of some of the students. The more intrepid students found this a perfect time to make out in the washrooms, marking a yearly tradition.