The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(38)

Carlota felt the tears brimming in her eyes once more, eyes that were already red and raw from crying.

Lupe lifted her veil. She was frowning. “What happened? Why are you weeping?”

“We went to the cenote and Montgomery was completely awful to them. I’m sure they’re offended and they find me dull. They probably want to leave come morning.”

“What if they do want to leave?”

She pressed her hot cheek against the mahogany headboard. “You don’t understand. My father will be furious. All he’s done is tell me how wonderful it would be if I would marry, and then he said if he died we wouldn’t have two pesos. I want to please my father and I want Eduardo to like me.”

“I’m sure he does. Everybody likes you.”

“You don’t, not anymore,” Carlota whispered. “You look toward the road all the time and talk only of what might be found in other places.”

“I do like you, silly,” Lupe muttered, and she sat on the bed and hugged Carlota. “You’re odd. This is nothing. Who cares about those silly boys?”

When they’d been little they’d curled up together and looked through the stereoscope, watching distant vistas bloom before their eyes. They’d scared each other repeating Ramona’s tales of spirits who drowned children in the water holes. But they hadn’t been close like this in some time.

“You should come sit around the bonfire tonight,” Lupe said.

“You’re lighting the bonfire? But we have guests.”

Lupe shrugged. “What will they care? They’ll be in their rooms, and if what you say is true they’ll be counting the hours until they leave. Why would they want to look behind the wall? Besides, Montgomery said it’s fine.”

“Of course he would. He wants to drink.”

“I think he’s been drinking all afternoon already. I think he’ll be absolutely inebriated by the time he gets there. When he’s like that, he doesn’t care about anyone.”

“I don’t want to be near him,” Carlota whispered, remembering the silly smirk on his face and, even worse, the tanned naked chest and shoulders. And his hair, normally untidy and falling before his eyes, slicked back when he stepped out of the water.

It was indecent of Montgomery to parade himself like that. It made her wonder, if they’d painted Adam on the mural, if he would have looked like Montgomery rather than Eduardo. She smothered the thought, furious at herself for even having it in the first place.

“What do you care if he’s there? Toss the glass of aguardiente he’s drinking in his face if he gives you trouble.”

“You make everything sound easy,” Carlota muttered.

“Then stay moping in here,” Lupe said. “Maybe I’ll toss the glass in his face for you if you won’t. Would that help?”

Carlota smiled a little smile, and Lupe chuckled. “I should go. I’ll leave the door open for you, in case you change your mind,” Lupe said.

That night, when it was late, despite having told herself that she would not venture by the bonfire, Carlota ended up quickly changing into a white wrapper with an embroidered collar and put on a pair of slippers. She stepped outside quietly. She didn’t need a candle. The moon was up high, and she could see well. The darkness never frightened her, not even when she’d been small.

When she reached the door in the wall it opened easily, and she immediately spotted the bonfire and the circle of hybrids around it. They sat on rickety chairs and a few on the ground, the whole contingent, which numbered twenty-nine. A couple of them had fallen asleep, others were conversing happily, and some were eating and drinking.

Estrella and K’an played dice while Aj Kaab poked at his teeth with a stick, lazily closing his eyes. Cachito and Lupe sat together, laughing. Montgomery was half in shadow and sat next to Peek’, who had the long snout of the tapir and deformed hands with only three digits tipped with long fingernails. The hands, despite their limitations, had once been nimble, but arthritis now afflicted the hybrid in his old age, and Montgomery helped him by holding up a bowl so that he could drink.

Carlota hesitated for a moment, thinking of stepping away. Peek’ finished drinking and he stood up, then motioned to Parda and engaged her in conversation. Montgomery set the bowl aside and leaned forward, his long legs stretched out, popping a cigarette in his mouth. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her, and she walked close to the bonfire, her eyes fixed on him. He returned the look, observing her with a zeal she took to mean a challenge.

“You’ve come, Loti!” Cachito yelled, scrambling to his feet and holding up a bottle in his hands. “We weren’t sure if you would. Do you want a drink?”

“Perhaps a half glass,” she said. She wasn’t used to drinking with them. She didn’t like that her father allowed this type of merriment, but she felt bolder that night. Maybe it was the way Montgomery was looking at her that inspired Carlota. She wanted him to realize she didn’t care about him or anything he did.

“I don’t know if we have a spare glass. But here,” Cachito said and handed her the bottle. “Go on.”

It was a fiery drink, unlike the sips of anise or brandy they had after dinner, or the wine that might grace the table. She almost felt like spitting, but drank it down. She wiped her mouth.

Cachito patted her back and laughed when he noticed her grimace.