tongues and said not even to dream of sitting at her table without at least washing those filthy hands. Then she lit two more lamps and stirred up the oven fire and set about making tortillas and a skillet of eggs scrambled with grated sausage. Marina came from across the hall and made a small sound of dismay at the sight of their ravaged faces. She called them fools and hugged them, one with each arm. Then went upstairs with a lamp to inform their father, as he had instructed her to do if they should show up. He had been notified of their departure, the entire hacienda had known of it—the twins were trying the white water!—and had decided that if they were not back in ten days he would lead a party of men downriver along the old wagon trace to search for their bodies below the rapids.
He woke to Marina’s light taps on the door and knew it was about them and he readied himself for the worst. “Abre,” he said. She opened the door a few inches and he saw part of her face in the light of the lamp. “Dime,” he said. She told him they were back and both of them unharmed. He thanked her and she said “De nada, Don Juan,” and closed the door. He then lay awake for a time, staring out the window at the starry darkness. And thought, They did it, by damn. They
They were eating at the kitchen table when Marina returned. They asked what their father said and she told them he’d said nothing other than thank you but that she could tell by his voice he was glad they were all right. Josefina went into her room and returned with a small jar containing a salve of her own invention and gave it to Marina with instructions to apply the medicine to the cuts on the boys’ faces after they bathed. She touched each twin on the head as if conferring a benediction and then returned to her room and shut the door.
When they finished eating, Marina picked up a lamp and ushered them into the patio and told them to fill the two tubs with well water and strip down and get into them and never mind complaining about the water being too cold. When they were babies she had bathed them in the kitchen, and then in the patio tubs when they were older. They had always liked to play with her breasts through her blouse at bath time and she never made objection. When they began to sprout erections in the tub she smiled at their pride in them, like young explorers who had made a grand discovery. They always giggled through the last stage of every bath when it was time to stand up so she could wash their legs and buttocks and little stiffies. Even after they were old enough to bathe themselves they would often ask her to do their backs, and though she would tease them for helpless children she usually complied. And always, as she attended to their backs, they would squirm around in the tub to face her and she’d return their sly grins and give their cocks a quick gentle squeeze. She was fearful that Josefina would discover them at this naughty play and always kept an eye on the kitchen door. She was startled the first time one of them—they were ten then—ejaculated as she was soaping him. He laughed and she joined in their grins, her hand at her mouth to hide the gaps in her teeth, an action that had become unconscious reflex. He boasted in low voice that they had both done it before with their own hands, and she called them nasty creatures and said they would go blind if they kept at it. In that case, the other one said, she should do for him what she had just done for his brother, not only in fairness but also because she would be helping to save his vision. You think you’re very smart, don’t you? she said, but was again covering her mouth. She glanced toward the kitchen door. Then put her hand to him too.
They were twelve when Josefina said they were too old to still be bathing in the patio and from then on they had to use a bathing room. They would give Marina a look each time they went off for a bath, and sometimes she ignored it and sometimes she would show up in the bathing room shortly afterward on pretext of making sure they had fresh towels and enough hot water. They would entreat her to wash their hair and scrub their backs, saying she could do it so much better than they could, and she would every time feign irritation and say they weren’t children anymore and could bathe themselves quite well. Then position herself between the two tubs and oblige the rascals. While she washed their hair they would play with her breasts as always, and though they were now putting their hands inside her shirt she still did not chide them for it. But when they started trying to explore under her skirt she pushed their hands away and said, No you don’t, little misters. They tried every time and she continued to rebuff them until one day—they were then thirteen—she thought Oh why not? And they touched her in ways that made obvious their familiarity with female anatomy—a familiarity they could have learned only by experience—and her own pleasure in the bathing games acquired new dimension.
One day as they were at this fondling game in the bathing room, a twin leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth and she flinched away in shock. She’d had willing sex with several men since the childhood rape that ruined her face but she had never had to question why none of them ever kissed her. The maiming had robbed her of all beauty above the neck except her hair, which at the time hung to the small of her back in a lustrous black spill, but she had refused to keep even that sole reminder of her former comeliness and cut it to a ragged crop barely covering her ears and kept it that way. When she recoiled from the kiss, the twins saw the stark self-revulsion in her eyes. They drew her to them and she made a small whimper as one of them kissed one side of her face while his brother kissed the other. Then they took turns placing soft kisses on her scarred lips. She broke into in tears and clutched to them with an arm around each. One of them said they must be very bad kissers to make her cry and she laughed with them even as she wept. Then was kissing them and kissing them. And that day decided to let her hair grow long again.
On their fourteenth birthday, less than two months before they rode the rapids, she gave them the present of herself. Despite her brutal introduction to sex, she had learned to enjoy it in the years afterward but she had never imagined how fine it could be when appended to love. She had since made love with the twins many times, one snugged to either side of her in the sturdy little bed and caressing her as she alternated her attentions between them before coupling with one and then the other. Whenever they spent the night with her they always woke before dawn—Josefina the only one already risen at that hour and busy with the breakfast fires—and slipped up to their own room before the rest of the house came astir.
They finished filling the patio tubs and then stripped and eased into the water, protesting the chill of it, and she sneered and called them sissies. They sped through the washing and got out of the tubs and dried themselves and she made them wrap towels around their waists before going back into the kitchen to sit in the brighter light. She was tender in daubing Josefina’s salve to their facial cuts, stopping at times to bat their hands away from her breasts and bottom, cutting looks toward Josefina’s door and hissing at the twins to behave or she would give them even more bruises.
The salve was dark yellow and the twins made faces at the reek of it. “I bet she makes it from old dead dogs,” one said and they both laughed. Marina asked what was so funny and one said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She said they had been told a thousand times it was impolite to speak English in front of her or Josefina and demanded to know what they had just said. The brothers grinned and one said in Spanish, We said wouldn’t you like to know? They laughed as she swatted at them in feigned affront at the joke they were having on her and told them to hush before they woke the house.
She finished with the salve and they went across the little hall to her room and snuggled into her bed. But when they began to caress her she shrank from their touch. No, she said, not tonight.
Why not? one asked. What’s wrong?
Affecting pique, she said, Wouldn’t you like to know?
Then laughed at their expression and drew them to her.
John Roger was working at the big desk in his office the next morning when they appeared at the open door and asked if they could have a word with him. It was an effort to mask his surprise. They had never come to him unsummoned. He said to come in and pull a pair of chairs up to his desk. He took off his spectacles—he had needed them for reading these past two years and had long since become adept at opening them one-handed. He studied the twins’ swollen and yellow-dappled faces. The only other time they had not looked identical was when their faces had been bruised in a fight defending some smaller boys against bullies. But, as then, the temporary difference in their facial markings in no wise let him know who was James and who Blake, and he felt his familiar guilt for not knowing.
“Guess you heard we rode the rapids,” one said.
“I did,” he said. “And yet here you are, still among the quick. No small feat.”
“Yessir,” the other said.
“Don’t mistake my wonderment for admiration, and certainly not for approval.”
“No sir,” the same one said.
Such ready agreement was another surprise. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t ironical.
