causes them, I suppose.”
“Nothing that can’t be handled, I hope.”
Father Martinez shakes his head. “No, nothing we can’t handle. A few women claimed they saw curious visions. Devils, that sort of thing. But nothing serious, Don Pedro.”
“Would you like some refreshment, Father?”
“No, thank you, Don Pedro. I don’t have long to stay.” He watches me again, the silence lengthening. “Actually, I’ve come on a mission of sorts,” he says after a moment.
“A mission?”
“Yes,” Father Martinez says. “And a successful one, I hope.”
“What sort of mission, Father?”
He looks at me worriedly. “Well, it has to do with the orphanage, Don Pedro.”
“I see.”
“You know, the one in the village,” Father Martinez explains unnecessarily. He smiles. “You’ve seen it. Your generous gifts helped to build it, if you recall.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so, Don Pedro,” Father Martinez says sadly. “And, as always, it has to do with money. The fact is, we’ve run out of money to buy medicine.”
“I understand,” I tell him. He comes to me often with his requests, believing that I cannot turn him down because my life is steeped in crime. And so I must give in a spirit of atonement, must give money like a palmer’s withered leaves.
“The situation has become quite serious, Don Pedro,” Father Martinez adds.
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“I knew you would be.”
“How much do you need, Father?”
Father Martinez almost flinches at the directness of my question. For people to offer so readily diminishes the laboriousness of his labor, and therefore the glory of his martyrdom.
“Well …” he stammers, “the exact figure. I don’t know.”
“An approximation, then.”
He gives me a paltry estimate. He could ask for many times more, but that would make his periodic trips unnecessary. Although he wants the money I can give him, he wants my confession more, and he believes that ultimately, on one of his little sorties against the obstinacy of my soul, I will break down and give it to him.
I offer three times the figure he has named. “I hope this will keep you in medicine for quite some time, Father,” I tell him.
Father Martinez’s eyes widen. “So much, Don Pedro! So generous! Please, I could not accept such a large amount.”
“I am an old man, Father, what do I need it for?”
Father Martinez looks at me sorrowfully. If I should die, he would be denied the only really noteworthy conversion in El Caliz. “Really, it is too much, Don Pedro.”
“Take it with my blessing, Father.”
“With great thanks, Don Pedro,” Father Martinez says finally, and with great disappointment.
“I hope it will be of help, Father.”
“Much help, thank you, Don Pedro.”
“Good.”
Father Martinez does not move. He looks as if something has been skillfully stolen from him.
“Is there something else you wanted, Father?”
Father Martinez looks at me. His hands move nervously in his lap, like fish flopping about. “Don Pedro,” he begins cautiously, “I wonder if you would ever consider coming to the parish church?”
I feel something unspeakably cold skating in my blood. “For what purpose, Father?”
Father Martinez blinks rapidly. “Purpose, Don Pedro?”
“For what purpose should I come?”
“Well, I … for your own …”
“What?”
“Betterment, Don Pedro.”
“It is a long trip for an old man, Father,” I tell him. For years they have swarmed over the bloated carcass of the Republic in their black soutanes and dusty hats. I have seen them come and go, come and go. And some have done much goodness while they watched the jungle roll in its immemorial butchery. But all have died within the immense, consuming fog of their faith’s mystification.
“The journey to the village is not so bad, Don Pedro,” Father Martinez says lightly. “I make it quite often, as you must know.”
“You are not old, Father.”
Father Martinez looks at me as if I have insulted him. “True,” he says, reluctantly giving in to the distance between himself and the grace of age. He takes a deep breath. “Well, it was only a suggestion.”
“One that I appreciate, Father,” I tell him.
Father Martinez’s face brightens: “I’m told that you are a friend of the Archbishop.”
“You are misinformed, I’m afraid.”
Father Martinez’s smile collapses. “Really? Misinformed? I’m sorry. I had heard that you and His Eminence were quite close.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Father,” I tell him. “There are many false stories about me in El Caliz.”
Father Martinez watches me curiously, trying to determine which of the many stories he must have heard about me are true. “Well,” he says, “since you are the only European in El Caliz, I suppose that …”
“Yes. That must explain the stories, Father.”
Father Martinez smiles weakly. “I’m sure it does, Don Pedro.”
“I’ll send Juan with my offering tomorrow, Father,” I tell him.
“The children will be most grateful, Don Pedro,” Father Martinez says. “Perhaps we could give you something as an act of appreciation.”
“That is unnecessary, Father.”
“But only as a gesture, Don Pedro.”
“Let them run and play, Father. Let them be healthy. That will be their gift to me.”
“But perhaps I could have them make something for you,” Father Martinez insists.
If they made something for me, then he would be required to bring it to me. This is what he wants. “No, Father,” I tell him firmly, “I will not accept any gifts from the children.”
“Then from me, Don Pedro?”
“No.”
He looks at me as if I have slipped a blade between his ribs. “As you wish, Don Pedro,” he says softly, lowering his eyes. He is a master of the aggrieved gesture.
“If you require anything else, Father, please let me know.”
Father Martinez raises his eyes. “Thank you, Don Pedro.” He pauses, watching me. “And if you ever require anything from me — any of my services — I hope that you will also let me know.”
I smile. “I will, Father.”
Father Martinez glances at the ridges in the distance. “The sun will be setting soon.”
“Yes.”
“I’d better get back to the village before dark.”
“I understand.”
Father Martinez rises from his chair. “The night is comforting, don’t you think?”
“No.”
Father Martinez looks at me with a mildly fearful expression, as if I were some relic from a torture chamber. “But at least there’s sleep,” he says.
I rise and offer my hand. “Let me know if I can be of any assistance to you, Father. As you can see, I have much to share.”
