“You’re going to lock us up again?”
“For your safety. You have a big yard to play in.”
“You’re mean; Sabochi would never lock us up.”
“What would he do?”
“Stay with us.”
“You don’t want me around.”
“Not if you make us work, but we could go to Sabochi’s cave.”
“That’s not a good time; I need girls, music, beer!”
“You’re a terrible person!”
“You think so?”
Silence, then the song again. She questioned, “You mean that?”
“From the heart.”
“Your destiny trembles in a woman’s eyes?”
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to talk to you any more, Tonio.”
“Look at the stars, chinita! Don’t be so serious.” He began to sing again, “My fortune is a lady’s lips . . .”
Why didn’t he stop! She felt lonely for José Mario and the silences they had shared together. Papá, Papá—soon, soon, he would return. She called out “good night” to Tonio and went into the house wondering if Tonio ever made sense. As she undressed for bed, she remembered Sabochi with the gentle eyes. These feelings she had for her old friend were new, almost frightening. Her thoughts returned to Tonio and his wild insanity.
* * *
“He doesn’t come any more, Trini.”
Buti was sad, looking up at a bare fig tree. They had been locked up in the yard again, and Tonio had taken off for the weekend. Inwardly Trini sensed the reason for El Enano’s disappearance. They were growing up, and life was no longer a mere design of colors and dreams like the rainbow rocks. The dreams of waiting for Sabochi, of the coming of Sabochi, the dreaming of Sabochi were anticipations that filled her life. She had little hope that El Enano would return. Tonio had brought a brusqueness with him, a tie to small realities that filled the day. Sabochi was far away. El Enano? Where was he?
All she could say was, “We’re growing up.”
But Buti still stared at the rainbow rocks, waiting. Trini realized that she, too, was waiting.
“Maybe if we all close our eyes and wish real hard,” Lupita suggested, screwing up her eyes. Why not? thought Trini. Sometimes wishing hard enough . . . She closed her eyes and wished for the coming of El Enano. There was only silence and a locked gate, and the feeling of something lost. The rainbow rocks gleamed, but their little friend failed to materialize. Buti came up with an answer to cut the sadness in the air. “He’s living up in Sabochi’s cave. He’s so busy eating up all my cacahuates and piñones, he doesn’t want to come any more.”
“He’s not a pig like you,” Lupita accused. Buti pulled her by the ankle, and she fell off the rock where she was sitting.
“Stop that, you two.” Trini scolded, then offered, “We can watch for Papá.”
“Papá, Papá, Papá,” screamed the children. Then they scurried off to look for Buti’s turtle. Trini gazed at horizons, a world moving without feeling, without thought except the murmur of life sounds. She looked up in the direction of Sabochi’s cave on the south hill. It all came back so clearly, so hungrily, the last time he had returned. . . .
It had been after the finding of Mamá’s bultito. She remembered Sabochi waving at them from his cave, standing tall, the wind blowing his long hair. She had run to the end of the yard fence and waved frantically back. Buti and Lupita had danced about with glee. Sabochi had come back! That had been the last time before the death of his father, before he had had to leave the valley for good. Trini ached to see Sabochi before his cave again. There was no one. She closed her eyes and reenvisioned that last time, that last time still joyous to her senses. He had come back from the great river, and, from his cave, he had made his way down into the valley. Lupita had pointed toward the turn on the hill, where Sabochi was coming down the path; then his figure disappeared behind the turn to reappear on the floor of the valley. The children waited at the fence. Now the figure was following the path leading to the house. Sabochi’s tall figure walked in irrevocable sureness, the brown of his body gleaming with a splendor. His muscular movements of descent into the valley danced on his lithe body covered only by a tilma. All along the valley the shouts of the children echoed, “Sabochi! Sabochi!” He began a slow run that gained speed as he came nearer, a rope around one shoulder. Once he had reached the fence, the noose of the rope was thrown around the pole close to the fig tree, then laden with fruit.
“Keeee—keeeee, Sabochi,” Buti chanted. “Keeeee!”
“Keeee—keeeee, Buti!” the answer came from behind the tree.
Trini and the children watched him climb over the fence with a dancer’s grace, stepping on the high tree trunk and then swinging himself down to a lower limb. A drop to the ground and Sabochi sat down under the fig tree.
“It’s hot today, eh, pollos?”
They had fallen on him in joyous welcome. Buti rolled on the grass with Sabochi until the Indian sat the boy on his chest.
“Ah, you are big, Buti.”
Lupita clasped her arms around Sabochi’s neck and would not let go. He rubbed his chin against her hair from side to side. Both children claimed him in happy laughter.
“That’s enough, Buti, Lupita.” Trini’s happiness rang in her voice as she sat next to them. Sabochi sat up, reaching for her hand, then he drew her to him until her head was on his chest.
“Ay, pollitos, I have missed you.”
They were all silent, melting into a oneness like the sound of a leaf sea. After a while Sabochi assumed a serious tone to ask them, “Have you gone to the river to bathe?” He lay back on the grass and looked from one face to another. “Your faces are dirty.”
“We wash every morning,” protested Trini.
“Tomorrow we go to the river.”
Trini could see that Sabochi was hot and tired. “I’ll get you some tea.” She ran into the kitchen for a bule, soon flying out with it in her hand, headed for the pump where she kept mint tea in a jarro wrapped in wet hilachas to keep it cool. Tea spilled from the bule as Trini hurried back with a full bowl which she handed to Sabochi.
“Dios te bendiga, chinita.”
“Amen.”
He drank the tea quickly and eagerly, a few drops trickling from the side of his mouth, falling on his broad chest. When he finished, he lay back on the grass again and closed his eyes. “You were expecting me?”
Trini sat down beside him and in a breathless voice assured, “For days and days and days. The first thing, the first thing, every morning I—I look to your cave . . .”
“It’s good to be home.”
It was good to have him there, to have him close his eyes and lie still, aware of their presence. She had so much to tell him, but she wanted the restful silence by his side. She reached for his hand and opened up his fingers one by one. His eyes were still closed. Even the children were quietly looking on. She had to share the good things.
“We have a new friend.” There was a soft excitement in Trini’s voice. The heads of the children went up and down vigorously.
“A visitor?” Sabochi opened one eye.
“Un enano, un enano,” the children informed him excitedly.
“He