The Fountains of Silence(59)

A knock echoes at the door. Daniel opens it and finds not Ana, but Lorenza, lips candied like an apple, hip swung to one side.

“Buenos días, se?or.”

Unlike Ana, Lorenza enters without invitation. Her eyes are instantly glued to the photo wall. Ben’s eyes are instantly glued to Lorenza.

“Hi there, sweet cheeks.”

Lorenza gives Ben a wave and turns to Daniel. “Do you like flamenco, se?or? You should photograph some flamenco dancers.” Lorenza stares at him. Her beckoning gaze reminds him of Laura Beth and how her every expression looks staged, like she’s posing for a camera.

“Flamenco, sure. Say, Lorenza, could you have Ana bring up some towels?” asks Daniel.

Lorenza makes a clucking with her tongue. “Ay, no. Ana is very busy, se?or.” Lorenza slaps the back of the chair with a cloth, as if she’s dusting it, sauntering closer to the photos.

“Ay, look at the matador. Oh and Ana, washing his face. Qué bonito. Oh, look at the peque?ines! Sweet little ones. How did you get such photos?”

“It’s what we do. We’re journalists,” says Ben. “Excuse me. Gotta drain the radiator.” Ben closes the bathroom door.

Daniel is equally honored and unnerved that Ben is referring to them together as journalists. He’s also unnerved that so many people are in his room.

“If Ana is too busy, shall I call the manager to make the request?” he asks Lorenza.

Lorenza stiffens. “No. I’ll get her now. Towels, you said?” She scurries toward the door.

“And the breakfast dishes?” says Daniel.

“Se?or, you must call room service for the dishes.”

“I did. I thought they sent you. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

The door clicks shut.

Ben emerges from the bathroom, returns to the photos, and lights a cigarette.

“Really, Matheson. I’m impressed. The Magnum judges will be too. These are better than anything in your portfolio. I might even be able to use some.”

Daniel accepts the compliment.

“Has anyone seen these?”

“Just my dad,” replies Daniel. “And Miguel, who developed them.” He doesn’t mention that Ana has also seen them. All of them.

“Keep your negatives in a safe place,” says Ben. “Meet me in the lobby of the hotel Monday at nine a.m. I’ve gotta get some shut-eye.” He gives a wave and exits.

Daniel still has no idea what the assignment is.





71



Lorenza dashes into the supply room. “Ana, where have you been? Se?or Matheson has requested towels. I told him you were very busy this morning. He became impatient and said he’s going to complain to the manager.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you weren’t doing your job. Ay, why is he so serious all the time? Max Factor is much nicer. He gave me the prettiest bottle of perfume. It’s a cat with a feather boa and—Ana, are you listening? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” says Ana, grabbing two towels from the shelf.

“Bueno. I thought maybe you were sick.” Lorenza edges closer with a curling grin. “Lovesick.”

Ana ignores the remark and rushes by Lorenza to the elevator. When she arrives at Daniel’s suite, a room-service attendant is removing the breakfast dishes.

“Se?or, whatever is the matter? Lorenza said you are calling the manager?”

“No. I didn’t mean to scare you. Lorenza said you weren’t available. I didn’t believe her. I don’t even know why she was here. I wanted to share the news.” Daniel leans against the chair. “I was hoping you’d lose the bet and we’d be working on the project together, but you were right. My parents aren’t separating.” He smiles.

“See! I told you, se?or. Your parents are very affectionate with each other. They have no troubles together.”

Daniel says nothing about his mother’s condition. Have they told him the truth? Ana knows that Daniel thinks in frames. Has he considered the portraits she’s seen when servicing his parents’ room? Medicine bottles in the trash. Doctor’s orders next to the bed.

She stares at the wall. “You have so many beautiful photos.”

“Thanks. I have the images, but what I don’t have is context.” He points to the photo his father mentioned, the one of Nick’s grated knuckles. “My dad’s caption was ‘Pretty undiplomatic for a diplomat’s son.’”

“No. That’s incorrect.” Ana looks at the photo. Her voice is steady and lyrical. “Fighting phantoms. There are some problems that even money can’t solve.”

Daniel nods. “Wow, Tom Collins is good at this.” He points to the photo of her niece, Lali, asleep in a box meant for oranges.

Ana looks at the photo for a long time before she begins.

“No money, no cradle. Earnings pay rent on their mother’s grave.” Ana’s voice catches as she continues. “If payment is not made, her body will be dug up and thrown in a common trench.”

“No. Would they really do that?”

She nods, her eyes filling with sadness.

“Ana, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer. “I had no idea.”

“How could you know?” she whispers. “It’s impossible for outsiders to understand. There is a tension that exists between history and memory, se?or. Some of us are desperate to preserve and remember, while others are desperate to forget. We all have our reasons. Does your mother ever speak of that?”