David Unger - The Mastermind

They follow the zookeeper to La Mocosita’s cage. His wet boots squeak as he walks.

A dozen people are trying to attract the elephant’s attention, to get her to come nearer. Not in the mood, she lounges in the back of her enclosure, resting on her right leg. The long tears coming out of her eyes flow like strings down her gravelly face.

The zookeeper picks up a towel from the guardhouse and goes into the elephant cage through a back gate. La Mocosita doesn’t even stir. He moves over to her and gently washes the crust off her face with the towel as if she were a child. She lifts her head in pleasure and lets him rub her jowls. He then looks at the arrow, shaking his head. In one gesture, he breaks it against the surface of her left haunch. She groans forcefully four or five times, shaking her head back and forth. He shoves a clean towel flush against the wound and holds it there, stanching the bleeding until the elephant calms down.

“Let’s get out of here,” Guillermo says.

* * *

They decide to go to Pecos Bill, a hamburger joint on Sixth Avenue in Zone 4 about two blocks from the Hotel Conquistador. As kids they used to go there with their parents on Sundays, spending the whole afternoon swimming in the Motor America Hotel pool nearby and then eating the best hamburgers in the city. The restaurant has a little courtyard in back where the families often sat while the kids played on the seesaws and jungle gyms.

The restaurant is mostly empty. Juancho and Guillermo need a beer — they are driven by thirst, not hunger. They take a table near the entrance, where they can gaze out at the Esso gas station across the street and, a bit beyond it, the 235-foot Torre del Reformador, which is a mini Eiffel Tower given to Guatemala by the French in 1935.

To the right is a table occupied by two girls in their early twenties and an older woman — perhaps their grandmother — dressed in a long black Mennonite-style dress and wearing too much rouge and mascara. Her hair is dyed dirty blond. Guillermo glances under the table and sees that the older woman is wearing high pumps. The three look like they have just come from church, maybe Mass at the nearby Union Church.

One of the girls attracts Guillermo’s attention, a strawberry-blonde with lots of freckles. Later he learns that Rosa Esther Castañeda’s mother was born in Ireland, but had come to Guatemala to study Spanish in the early sixties. She eventually married a local businessman who owned the Chrysler franchise in Guatemala. Rosa Esther took after her mother, while her sister resembled the father — a short, plump man with dark, vivid eyes.

The waitress comes over as soon as they sit down. Guillermo orders his Gallo and Juancho another Coke. When their bottles come, Guillermo thanks her as he squirms in his seat to make eye contact with Rosa Esther. Their eyes meet for a split second before hers shift away.

Guillermo is handsome, with dark wavy hair. Rosa Esther notices his full lips and dark, probing gaze. Guillermo is beginning to realize that his good looks can make some girls tremble. Juancho, on the other hand, is a string bean of a person. He seems brittle next to Guillermo, like a porcelain statue about to shatter, the kind of man a girl on a mission of mercy might find attractive.

Juancho orders a cheeseburger from the waitress when she brings them the beer and Coke. As she saunters away, the grandmother has a coughing fit and looks as if she might upend the table.

Guillermo gets up at once, and brings Juancho’s untouched soda over to her. “Please, drink this.”

The woman blanches, and waves him off with two bony white hands. She is gasping for air, and is clearly embarrassed.

“Please, I haven’t touched it. Have a drink,” he says.

Rosa Esther’s sister stands up and takes the bottle, jams the straw in the old lady’s mouth, and urges her to drink. The woman takes a few sips, then pushes the bottle away.

“Something got caught in my throat, I couldn’t breathe. I’m so sorry. We were just leaving. Let me buy you another Coke—”

“Don’t worry about it. ”

“That was so sweet of you,” Rosa Esther says, standing up and rubbing soft circles into her grandmother’s bony back.

“Are you okay now?”

“Yes, thank you, young man. May the Lord bless you. . I don’t even know your name.”

“Guillermo Rosensweig. And my friend over there is Juancho Sánchez. If we can be of any further help—”

“You’ve done more than enough,” the old woman says. “Girls, don’t just sit there. Introduce yourselves and thank the young man.”

“Ay, abuelita, give us a chance.”

The two girls introduce themselves as Rosa Esther and Beatriz Marisol Castañeda. Juancho stands up and waves shyly, and then everyone sits back down. There’s a sense in the empty restaurant that there’s been a bit too much commotion for a Sunday afternoon.

Guillermo is smitten with Rosa Esther’s milky-white skin, the ethereal air around her, her blue eyes like shallow pools. She seems to almost float lightly above her seat as she sits between her grandmother and sister. Her hands are thin and delicate, blue-veined like her grandmother, barely visible under her long-sleeve white blouse.

About five minutes later, the three women get up to leave. Guillermo, who has been stealing glances as he talks to Juancho, feels a sharp pang in his chest as Rosa Esther turns around, waves to him, and mouths a thank you . She is the last one to walk through the screen door to the parking lot, and Guillermo notices how white and shapely her calves are. He quickly jumps up and goes bounding after her.

“Rosa Esther, wait.”

She turns around and manages to hold the door open for him. Her blue eyes sparkle like bits of cobalt.

“I don’t know how to say this—”

“You would like to see me again,” she slips in.

“How did you know?” He is surprised by her gumption.

She nods, raising her eyebrows. “It’s all over your face.”

“Can I have your phone number?”

She shakes her head. “I am not that easy.”

“So how can I see you again?”

“You can’t.”

He looks at her confused, in desperation, thumping one foot. “I want to see you again,” he says insistently, a bit uncomfortable that she is forcing him to be so declarative.

She nods a knowing smile. “I go to the Union Church every Sunday. Maybe one day you’ll stop by and share the Mass with me.”

It’s a strange request, totally unexpected, and his “Okay!” is equally odd, as if he doesn’t quite know how to respond.

He has never gone to church to pray or to seek any sort of solace. He really doesn’t believe in God or His son. It is all a bunch of idiocy. But it would be a greater folly not to go now that she has invited him so openly.

Sure, he can give religion a second chance.

Guillermo seems to fall in love with the idea of Rosa Esther. The following Sunday, he puts on a suit and white shirt, borrows his father’s car, and drives over to the Union Church near the Plazuela España. He luckily finds a parking space around the wide circle. It is just before noon.

He takes a deep breath before entering the church. When he reaches the back pews, he happily realizes that the services are about to end. The pastor has finished his homily on a piece of scripture and is preaching that only through God’s grace, not through good works, can salvation be achieved. The only way to receive this grace is to accept Christ into your heart as the only true God; only in this way will the sinner be forgiven his sins and be born again. He concludes by saying that one day the Lord Jesus will return to this godless land and the final and complete resurrection of the dead will occur. This will lead to the establishment of a new heaven and a new earth and the elimination of suffering, evil, and even death in this new glory and the holiest of holies — as things were before the fall. The saved will share in the everlasting glory while those who fail to accept Jesus will suffer eternal punishment. The righteous will be part of an endless banquet while the damned will fight for morsels of food.