The Fountains of Silence(15)

“That miserable orphan is not a bullfighter. He’s a gravedigger.”

“Well, for now we’re gravediggers. And for now I work at the slaughterhouse. But believe me, that man is a matador, Julia. He was the bravest of all at the boys’ home. Do you know what they called him in Barcelona? They called him Fuga. ‘Escape.’ Each time he ran, the directors would drag him back and punish him. But he would escape again. He helped me find courage. He’s the reason I made it out and found my way back. He protected me. If I’d been alone in those fields, I’d never have survived.”

“Stop being dramatic,” says Julia, wringing a wet diaper over a wooden pail.

“It’s not dramatic. It’s true.” Rafa’s voice drops in volume. “We were all so hungry, but Fuga vomited his food in resistance. He would rather starve than be fed by the hand that beat him. All the boys, we idolized him. We chanted his name under our breath, encouraging him. His fearlessness kept our spirits alive. And then one day I found myself locked in detention with him. I will never forget his first words to me. He looked across that dirt hole, and do you know what he said?” Rafa pauses. “Voy a ser torero. ‘I’m going to be a bullfighter.’ He has been fighting his whole life. He is not infected like so many. He doesn’t carry the disease of fear.”

“It’s easy to be fearless when you have nothing to lose,” says Julia.

Rafa throws his hands in the air. “He has everything to lose. He has been given an opportunity. That is so rare. Do you know what he’s been fighting with? He has no red cape. He uses a blanket that he soaked with rusty bricks, and even so, I have seen him bewitch fifteen-hundred-pound bulls in a willow field. And now, after much pleading, Father Fernández has sent me to a man with connections. He is giving Fuga a chance.”

Julia pauses. “If he wins, will there be money?” She thinks of her handwritten ledger and the sum needed to move the family.

“He may get a handful of grapes.”

“A handful of grapes?”

“But, Julia, he will earn honor and the chance to fight again. This is a beginning. He must look like a torero, not a peasant. To rent a suit of lights would cost over five hundred pesetas. Every day you are surrounded by dozens of suits in the shop. Please, just ask Luis. Let us borrow an old suit. Just for a few hours.”

“Where is this bullfight?”

“Near Talavera de la Reina.”

“Rafa, that’s over a hundred kilometers from Madrid. How will you get there?”

“I’m not worried about that. We’ll walk from Vallecas if we have to.”

And he will. Julia knows that. Although energetic and sunny in public, Rafa is brooding. He is the bull. He watches, quietly gathers pieces, and puts things together. But many pieces are still missing. The Crows carry pieces of her brother in their pocket. And he is desperate to win them back.

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “But if I speak to Luis, you have to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“You have to speak to Ana.”

“Ay, there’s nothing to say to Ana. She’s the smartest of us all.”

“Rafa, she’ll listen to you. That hotel is an American business. Male and female employees work together without chaperones. She’s constantly looking at American magazines. She’s a gorgeous young woman surrounded by a fairy tale. That makes her vulnerable again.”

“What happened last year was not her fault,” says Rafa.

He’s right, but could they have protected her somehow?

“Trouble follows our sister wherever she goes,” says Julia. “She’s been so quiet lately. I’m worried she’s hiding something.”

Ripples of snoring cut through their conversation. The baby begins to cry. Julia turns away from her brother before he can state the obvious.

Of course Ana’s hiding something. This is Franco’s Spain. They’re all hiding something.





15



Ana points to a tiny, elegant shop. LA VIOLETA. Curved windows set in polished oak arch from the sides of a tall glass door. Tucked within clouds of purple tissue behind the display glass are bonbons, boiled sweets, and jellied candies. A little girl in faded clothes stands outside, admiring the candy. Daniel snaps a picture behind her.

“You must come in,” says Ana. “It’s something very special.”

Inside, the miniature shop smells of sugar. The shelves are lined with glass jars of purple sweets. Ana points to a crystal bowl on the counter with lavender-petal candies.

“Try one,” she insists, popping one into her own mouth. She then selects two small boxes. She asks the clerk to wrap them and put them on the hotel account.

Daniel takes one of the small violet candies. “It looks like a purple clover.” After a moment he grimaces.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“My mom will love it,” he replies.

“But you don’t.”

He shakes his head. “It’s like eating a flower.”

Ana smiles as the portrait materializes. Daniel’s jeans and boots, everything about him, clashes with the lavender interior of the shop. “May I take a picture, se?or?”

“Sure. It’d be fun to have another pair of eyes.” Daniel gives her the camera along with instructions, while the girl outside watches from behind the glass.