It sounded familiar. Her family often recruited kids like Domingo for their operations. They’d offer them a hundred pesos to stand at a street corner and keep watch for them, in case the cops were in the mood for busting one of their joints. There was always a young fool willing to do anything for cash.
“Then I had enough of that, of them. It was harsh for a while. Quinto lent me money and that helped me. I started collecting bottles ’cause someone told me they gave you money for those at the recycling center. And when I was taking bottles there I met this rag-and-bone man who does a lot of business. He’s constantly looking for people to bring him stuff. So I started bringing him things. He likes the stuff I collect. He says I’ve got a good eye for it.”
“No offense, kid, but it sounds like a shitty business,” she said.
“Nah. Garbage is good. Trash pickers work hard. We sift through the crap and find treasures. It doesn’t pay too much and there are people who get a lot more than you do. But there’s no one beating you at the end of the day.”
You’d be better off dealing drugs up North, she thought. You’d make more. Die faster, and that’s not too bad sometimes. Not that I intend to die fast.
“Plus the Jackal never let me take a bath. Now I can go to the baths whenever I want. He ain’t there to tell me if I can bathe or if I can read my comic books. It’s honorable work. And I don’t get to hear him say I’m vain and stupid and ugly.”
“You’re not stupid,” she said, but not with any degree of kindness. It was a simple fact.
“You don’t have to tell me that. It’s all right. I don’t mind.”
“You can’t go around believing that you’re shit, all right? I said it was a shitty job, not that you were shitty. That dude who said you were stupid and ugly? I’d bet he’s jealous,” she said, and this time she did attempt a small amount of kindness, probably because she was tired or, you know, going crazy.
“That’d be something.”
Domingo scratched his head and smiled at her, showing her his goofy teeth. His teeth were bad, but his hair and eyes were dark and attractive, both a pleasing, rich shade of brown.
Their stop was coming up. She drummed her fingers against her leg, chewed the bubble gum slowly.
“Just … um … so you know. I think you’re really cool,” Domingo said. “I think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.”
“It’s bound to be a small social circle, huh?” she replied.
Domingo just smiled even more, in earnest appreciation.
“You’re a cool kid too. All right?”
He was. Sort of.
Atl grabbed the dog’s leash and stood up just as the subway came to a halt and the doors opened. Domingo followed Atl, stumbling behind her.
*
Elisa Carrera’s building was in a nice spot of town. Not super swanky, but nice enough that they had installed security cameras and there was a guard at the front. Two things Atl didn’t like, but there wasn’t anything that could be done about them.
The woman who opened the door to Elisa Carrera’s office didn’t look very much like the photograph Atl had studied. Her hair had gone gray and there were deep wrinkles under her eyes.
“Yes?” asked the woman, eyeing their dog. “It’s a bit late. I was about to close.”
“It’s an urgent matter. We have a referral,” Atl said.
“Who referred you?”
“Bernardino.”
Elisa’s face changed. It softened, wax drifting close to a flame, before hardening in a few quick seconds. Atl thought she might slam the door in their faces and then Atl would have to pull the stupid thing off its hinges, cause a scene, which she really didn’t want to do.
“We aren’t here to do you harm,” Atl said. “We just want to talk.”
“Who are you?” Elisa asked, her eyes narrowing.
“I’m Atl, Centehua’s daughter,” she said, though the resemblance should have been obvious. She took after her mother.
“If that’s true you’re very far from home.”
“It is true. May we come in?” Atl asked.
“Yes,” Elisa said.
The office was small. Elisa’s desk took up much of the space. It seemed large enough to sit three people, a grand monstrosity of carved wood with a chair to match. There were bland photos of boats and pretty landscapes with the words RELAXATION and MEDITATION printed beneath them. There was also a poster about Jesus and footsteps in the sand, as if banality could be exponentially increased.
Atl and Domingo sat across from Elisa. The dog curled at Atl’s feet and Atl patted its head.
“What do you want?” Elisa asked, and regarded them wearily.
“I need your help,” Atl said. No sense beating around the bush and it wasn’t like she was interested in a long conversation.
“I’m done helping your kind,” Elisa said. Her certainty struck Atl as inappropriate.
“My mother is dead,” she replied.
To Elisa’s credit, the only reaction to that announcement was a slight tremble of her hands.
“I’m very sorry,” Elisa said.
“I’ll be dead too, if you don’t help me. I need to get out of Mexico.”