The Dog Fighter (21 page)

Te quiero mi amor. Te quiero.

I said this again and again until the words became unfamiliar. Until their sound lost meaning. But knowing that this confusion when words lost their meaning was also a dream. That I only had to stop and take my ears from the water and concentrate again on the words alone and not their repetition and I would come to the surface of this dream and understand the words completely again and then know why it was that I was telling them to my love. I shared them with her because for us they had meaning. They were something we understood together. Each of us may have understood them differently. But for as much as I felt for her these words held that feeling. And for as much as she loved me the words held that feeling for her she told me. Holding one another we understood the words belonging to each other that we shared.

I imagined how it would be to tell the poet of her. I walked in the hills by myself before going to his stall in the market. The men working on the road above looked at me with hate in their eyes for being able to be out for a lazy walk. Working to feed their children and wives and themselves while I fought dogs. I waited until I was beyond the sound of the bulldozers to speak. Forgetting the little girl who laughed at me. Not caring.

I feel ashamed to tell you this. I told the imaginary poet. But I will not be able to live without her.

He would smile. Light a cigarette after sliding his typewriter to the side. Ink stained cigarette papers.

Young men in love are fools. He would say. This is nothing to be ashamed of.

But my stomach is in my chest when I think about her. All the time I feel sick. I wonder what she is doing with her day. If she is sleeping. If she is sleeping I wonder what is she dreaming of. I put myself in her dreams. The way I put her in mine. The other day I saw her in the market. Then in the plaza. Along the malecón. Each time when I ran to catch up with her she was gone or she was some other woman. When I fight dogs there is nothing in this world for me but her. If to fight dogs means to be near her then I will kill them gladly.

The poet would be quiet. He would study the end of his cigarette.

I enjoyed your company more when you did not talk so much. He had said to me. Smiling his terrible smile.

After the dentists mother slept one night Javier hobbled into the courtyard to sit and rest and admire the stars. The stars in Canción were like no others then. There were not many lights in the city to ruin the sky. And so we sat in wood chairs looking up through the dark palm fronds. The moon was almost full. My knuckle had not been broken the night I helped Javier but still it hurt me very much. The dentist sat with us drinking red wine until the wine made him sleepy. Then he yawned and stood and stretched a moment longer than he needed to hoping that Javier would join him. When he did not Jorge smiled disappointed but kissed Javier on top of the head.

He cries himself to sleep. The thief joked when Jorge was gone.

How is the ankle? I asked.

I will be fine soon enough. And this being injured is not such a bad life. I enjoy the attention.

Javier took a long drag from his cigarette. The smoke came in bursts from his mouth when he spoke.

Do you miss your home? He asked me then.

Some.

Your family?

I have no more family. I said.

No wife? A girlfriend?

No. But I am in love with a woman.

I had said it carelessly. We had never spoken about love. But I knew afterward that I had been wanting to say this to the thief for some time. That we were becoming friends and this was the last thing between us.

What is her name?

I searched for the exact words to explain.

No sé. I admitted finally.

How can you not know the name of your lover? He laughed. Where does she live?

No sé.

You do not know where she lives. You do not know her name? My friend we need to fix your hand fast so you can return to your imaginary love.

No. I stumbled for the words to explain. She is real. I said when he laughed more. I know that she lives in Canción.

Who is she to you?

My love. I said not understanding his question.

Who is she to others?

I hesitated.

She is the mistress of Cantana.

The thief whistled a long shrill whistle into clucking his tongue against his teeth. This is a very dangerous woman to love hombre.

I understand.

I do not think that you do. Cantana is a wicked man. I do not care how strong you think you are. He is stronger. Cantana is the only businessman in this city that I have never stolen from.

I sighed. Javier put his hand on my arm.

But I have always wanted to. He smiled. I will tell you something dog fighter. Because you have helped me I will help you search for her. I know the houses of this city better than anyone. I know all of its people. I will find out for you if she lives with Cantana. Or if she does not I will find out where she does live. But. He grinned. When you knock on that door all the boys and I are going to be standing there behind you for a good laugh.

 

T
he day before my fourth fight tiny birds took flight from the shade of the trees of the plaza across from the cathedral and into the comfortable February sky. It had been some time since I had gone into the hills on a Sunday walk with the poet. Guillermo came with us. Once or twice we stopped on the side of the road to rest on our way to the overlook above the abandoned mine. I offered Guillermo my arm.

It might be easier if you just carried me. The veteran teased.

You should be paying him not to drop you. The poet responded.

The city shimmered below us.

How long have you been helping the young men? I asked Guillermo once we came to the overlook and he settled on a rock with a nice seat worn into it by the weather.

For some years now.

Were you ever a thief?

Guillermo turned to the poet. I do not remember him always asking this many questions.

I think the dogs have knocked something loose. The poet answered.

Are you looking for a new line of work? The veteran smiled at me.

I do not think he would fit through the windows. The poet said.

No. I answered them both. I am just curious.

The dentist had brought a bottle of mescal and some oranges and salt mixed with powdered chili. We took sips and sprinkled the salt and chili on the sweet orange. Below in the center of the bay the plane of the American investors had landed earlier in the day. They had come to see the destroyed tractors. Men in the streets were talking about their arrival for days. Of how brave the young men who wrote on the walls had been. The silver plane was difficult on our eyes with the sun lowering slowly over the mountains above and behind us. It caught the sun as a coin does.

Have you been in an airplane before? I asked them to change the conversation.

No. Guillermo said.

And you? I asked the poet.

Neither of us. Guillermo responded for him.

I would like to someday. I went on. To see all this differently.

The old men passed the bottle between them taking small sips. The poet rolled his cigarettes. They did not seem much in the mood for talking. When I sipped from the bottle the mescal burned my stomach some. I often forgot to eat in those days I thought of her so much. I coughed when I swallowed the alcohol again and the old men smiled to themselves. No one spoke. I felt comfortable in the shadows of the mountains creeping up on us from behind as we faced Canción. The boys in the canoes circled the plane on the bay.

We should stay up here long enough to watch the plane take off. I suggested and the old men nodded.

Below tiny dark burros pulled carts making their way to the plaza mayor. At the hotel I squinted to see the men. I searched the rooftops for her. I wondered what was blurred and what was not blurred for the old mens eyes. Concentrating on the hotel I pretended to hear the taps of their hammers on the backs of their chisels into stone. From the alcoves of the cathedral I listened for the rush of pigeon wings. I searched for the compound in all those colorful buildings and the poorer ones also. The market was busy. I looked for the street where Guillermo had his salon and shop. I wondered where she lived. In the light of which windows. Behind which wall Javier would find her for me. I wondered where he was down in the red and brown metal roofs beneath the windmills. Where Ramón slept in the arms of some businessmans mistress. Where Cantana lurked. The glass bottle clinked against the boulder when the old veteran lowered his arm by his side.

We were not there long when several men came jogging down the road from working on the other side of the mountains on the road. A man had been injured they said. Some rocks came down on top of him. They said that they were sent for an extra burro to bring him down to a doctor.

You do not have a burro do you? One man joked.

Only this one. Guillermo pointed to me and we laughed. But he is my crutch so you cannot have him. I do not care whose leg is broken.

Do you have any water? The other man asked.

The poet held up the bottle of mescal.

Both the men took great drinks from the bottle and wiped their wet lips on the backs of sunburned hands leaving dust caked to their faces. Then they began running again. Barefoot over sharp rocks.

I bet one of them vomits before they make it to the edge of the city. The poet said.

I was bored waiting for the plane. We had been sitting for more than an hour and my legs were stiff. My side ached. I had to go to the bathroom. I suggested we return to the salon but neither of the men wanted to leave just yet.

We should wait for the sunset. The poet suggested. When was the last time you and I enjoyed a sunset together?

This might be the last time I ever make it up here. Guillermo answered.

I will be right back. I said.

Where are you going? Guillermo snapped at me. When he drank his anger was very great. But his voice still surprised me.

I began to undo my pants and the poet laughed.

You want me to do it right here in front of you? I asked.

Get away from here you pig. Guillermo laughed and threw pebbles at me as I jogged up and around a short bend in the road and squatted near a flowering plant with a few leaves. When I returned I was surprised to find Javier sitting with the old men. The walk difficult on his ankle. His face sweaty.

Good to see you. I offered my hand. We still had not let on to the old men that we knew each other.

How are you? He asked me.

Javier was just on a walk of his own. Guillermo said before I could answer.

I like it up here. Javier smiled. The view is very good.

The old veteran looked to his watch. He seemed impatient now. Down below on the bay the boys in their canoes had gone from the plane. I squinted to see the pilot sitting on the pontoons. He probably had taken off his shoes and put his feet in the water. The sound of the explosion came to us not long after the plane burst into a bloom of fire. A cloud of black smoke rose into the sky. Then more smoke lay along the water of the bay where the diesel burned. I stood with my arms flat along my sides. Stunned as the explosion faded in those mountains. People ran along the streets to the malecón. I looked down to the poet. Then to Javier. Both were inspecting the city below us. When I looked to the old veteran I was surprised to see him pointing a small revolver at me.

Sit down. He said.

The poet nodded.

Everything is fine. Javier nodded also. His smile genuine. Sit.

Seven

T
hey want him dead. Javier told me later that night when we sat in the courtyard. The old men learned somehow that Cantana is interested in you. They believe this is their best way against him.

How long have you known they wanted me for this?

The thief had not looked me in the eyes since I had looked to him from the revolver Guillermo held. His voice soft. Ashamed even.

Not long.

Have you told them you know me?

No. That would put Jorge at risk.

Do you trust them?

Yes. I do. And no. I do not. They care for Canción enough to risk themselves for it. I feel the same way. This fight of ours against Cantana has been coming for some time. They see you as a way to help end it.

I thought the poet was my friend. I said then.

He is. But his love for this city.

His hatred for Cantana. I interrupted.

Is more important to him than your friendship. Javier delicately picked a piece of tobacco from his lip. You need to understand that these old men come from a time much different than ours. What they fought for. What they fought against in la Revolución is the same thing that came into power. Javier sat forward in his chair. The dentist had gone to sleep. The thief had a difficult time keeping his voice down he was so excited. It is hard for them. He continued. Such a defeat is very great. They believe that Canción is much different though. That it is worth protecting.

And you agree?

I do.

The poet has betrayed me.

Javier looked at the end of his cigarette.

I do not know what to say to you about that.

The chair scratched on the tile when I stood to leave.

I will kill you if you mention her to them. I said then.

I have told them nothing. I would not do that. Know that I am with you in this my friend. That I will not betray you after what you have done for me.

You are a thief. I said to him. What have you given me to trust you that is different from what the poet or Guillermo has given me to trust them?

My word.

That night in my small room I debated leaving Canción. Taking the money I had won fighting dogs and finding work someplace new. I would have if not for her.

Imagine if the sun was to become weightless. I had told Javier some nights before. The planets would all lose their way. This is how my soul would be without her.

I was very hurt that the poet had deceived me. He and Guillermo were very clever men. And while my life had calmed in the peace of Canción I knew enough then of fire to know that if I remained in the small city I would die. But the old men had been honest in their deception somehow. Listening to the poet on the overlook that day I had believed that what he and Guillermo and the young men at the salon were fighting for was good for Canción. I also did not like Cantana. But for my own reasons.

You are no stranger to killing. Guillermo said to me. This will not be difficult for you.

The boys in the canoes hurried to the smoking plane to be among the pieces of metal that floated burning with diesel before sinking to the coral below. I learned some days after that Javier had given the bomb to one of the older boys. A young thief. He hid the bomb on the plane while the pilot traded with the boys.

If I do not accept? I asked the old men.

You will die right here.

What if I say yes but only to betray you later?

Then you will die later. The veteran said confident in his words.

Imagine how they will say your name. The poet said to me then. Thinking I might still be susceptible to this for all the conversations we had had.

The poet had not observed my change. He did not know that I no longer needed the voices calling my name. Not now that I had her own. But because I had shared the secret of my love with Javier I worried he knew of that which owned me. That owned my thoughts. That they would use this somehow against me. I did not know if I could trust Javier yet. That if what he told me had been a lie.

Lying on the blankets of my small bed that night I listened to a man on the street below pushing his cart. His whistling in the quiet of that troublesome night. I knew the city well by this time. I enjoyed its song. I kept time by the voices of mothers calling their children. The radios left on. The tired men cursing their burros. The sound of her dress sweeping over stones when she came to me after the city slept. I thought then that Guillermo and the poet were right. That Canción might stay like this forever if I were to murder Cantana. The poet was right to remind me of the voices. I could hear my name faintly on them again. Long after I was no longer of this world. A hero for what I had done for the hidden city. But still they were not as strong or beautiful as her own.

Other businessmen will take his place. I told the old men as we came back down the road into Canción slowly. I let Javier hold the veterans arm to help him walk because to live that day I agreed to kill Cantana. Cantanas death will not end construction on the hotel. I said to them. Greed does not die. I said to the poet because he had said this to me many times.

The poet did not answer. He knew I was correct. And I think that he was ashamed of himself for betraying me. He had been drinking more of the mescal than I had or Guillermo. But this was something he was convinced of. That Cantana had to be killed.

You are wrong dog fighter. Guillermo said once we had returned to the salon. Night had settled completely. Under the flickering electric light the wrinkles of his old face reminded me of the cracks in the concrete floor of the hotel. The flames. Cantanas death will put the fear of God in the hearts of the other businessmen. His death alone will be enough to stop them. The hotel will stand forever as a skeleton. As a warning of what will come to those should they try again.

They will not ruin this city. The poet said softly in that light. But still he would not look me in the eyes.

I have not told them I know where you live. Javier said to me in the courtyard in a voice eager to keep my friendship.

For Jorge. I responded.

Yes. But.

Have you thought of what they will be asking you to do when you are standing before the end of their revolver? I asked.

The thief looked ashamed when I said this to him. He was trying to convince me that he was more loyal to me than he was to them. He feared I would betray his love for Jorge to the old men.

Keep him thinking you are his friend Javier. I imagined Guillermo telling the thief. Make sure he does not go to Cantana.

He will not go to Cantana. The poet saying.

What makes you so positive?

He is not smart enough.

I did not know who to trust but her. And when I asked her lying in my small bed that night she took my face in her hands and kissed my forehead.

I will not leave without you. I said to her.

Come to us after this next fight. Guillermo had said before I left him and the poet at the salon. We want you to kill him sometime after this. But first we need to know when the American investors will be here. There is one in particular we want dead.

Will the Americans come now? I asked. After this attack it will be too dangerous.

They will come to prove that we are nothing to them. Guillermo said.

Flies on the ass of a horse. The poet said.

They will come to prove to Canción that our efforts are unimportant and that nothing will stop the hotel from being built. And this is when we will prove them wrong.

What if I die fighting the dogs? I asked.

You will not. The veteran said. Everyone knows this. This is why we have chosen you.

How am I supposed to get near to Cantana?

You have access to him that we do not. We know that he wants you to work for him. He values your strength.

Your popularity. The poet said.

Approach him about this. Let us know what he knows.

And when you hear of the Americans let us know. The poet said.

I turned to leave.

And dog fighter. The veteran said. Do not think to give us over to Cantana. I will kill you myself.

 

T
he night of the dog fighting Ramón and Vargas came to the storehouse smelling of alcohol and smoke. I heard them down the circular staircase talking with Elías and Rodríguez. There were the voices of women also. Much laughing.

They still let you choose? Vargas asked Ramón about the painted sticks as they climbed the stairs. I thought you and Mendoza were wedded.

They keep expecting me to die. Ramón answered. Besides. You may have chosen the teeth tonight.

I do not think so. Mendoza is for you alone.

There was a new fighter in the small room that night. A short man from Monterrey with a large chest and electric blue eyes. Ramón and Vargas made jokes between themselves to scare him. Talking about deaths they had witnessed. Clucking their tongues and shaking their heads but with their eyes on him to see his reaction. But in the small room this man was very calm. I remembered how I was before my first fight and I was very impressed by him. His confidence genuine.

That night I killed my dog easily. Just as Guillermo said I would.

After Ramóns fight he returned to the crowd of yelling men from the small room to stand next to me at the edge of the wood benches where the businessmen sat.

I have the worst luck. He said. I knew that he was sobered some by his fight. He had chosen a dog of Mendozas once again. His fifth in a row. Across from us this trainer sat next to Cantana. Ramón stared at Mendoza and this made the trainer smile with his toothpick in his mouth. I am not sure if Ramón noticed me staring at her sitting on the other side of Cantana because his eyes never came from Mendoza. And Mendozas eyes never moved from him. It was a small game they played.

During this the fighter from Monterrey came into the ring. He was still very calm. Vargas would fight last that night. The young men from the salon took the bets from the yelling men while Javier went from businessman to businessman. Jotting down notes quickly with his sleeves rolled to make them think he was honest. Jumping back and forth but skillfully to the snap of their fingers. Most of the yelling men bet on the dog because it was this fighters first fight. But if he heard them taunting him it did not affect him any. His eyelids did not blink. But for as calm as he was he would never be able to control the ring in which he fought. I knew this. And each time Ramón drew a painted stick he knew this to be true also. The businessmen owned the ring. Chance.

When the leash was undone he proved to be a skilled fighter. He lured and then avoided the dog with great ease. Slashing its side with the claws on several different passes. Eluding the dog in the manner of a matador. He even smiled at one point which gained great favor from the yelling men and brought Ramóns attention from the trainer to the fighting. Ramón at this time was the most colorful of the fighters. Vargas and myself the strength. Other fighters were there merely for the men to wait through until we came into the ring. But this man was better than us all. The dog did not touch him until he slipped on a spot of blood missed by the ragmen. He fell to the ground on his back and his head hit hard on the concrete. He was not awake when the dog locked its jaw around the soft of his neck and tore away the flesh of his throat. Its ears perked. The trainer ran to the dog to pull it off the dead fighter but the dog turned on this man and bit him on the arm. Ragmen tried to distract the dog with blood soaked cloths. Mendoza walked calmly into the crowd. He held a revolver. The yelling men woke suddenly to the sharp gunshot. The ragmen fell back. Mendoza had shot the dog in the head. No one believed that the skill of this fighter was broken by a spot of blood on the floor. The shot had come over us all hard in the ears. Echoes slipping between the blades of the windmills above the rooftops before dying over the bay. I looked back to her. Only when the fighter fell to the ground had our eyes broken apart. And this to see the man die horribly. But now her eyes looked back to mine and I smiled. With all that before us I smiled. And she smiled a tiny smile back.

I went to the cantina beneath the abandoned church that night with Ramón and Vargas. Elías the doorman and the young businessman Rodríguez went with us also. I hoped to encounter Cantana there. Coming down the stone stairs I looked for her on the dance floor among the swirling dresses. I searched for the gleam of Cantanas sunglasses in the crowd. But nothing. Neither of them.

That night Ramón drank very much and talked much of himself. I suspect the dreams of the dogs with sharpened teeth never left him. His eyes at times were very wild and the smiles he gave to the mistresses were more and more sinister. Vargas chided him constantly in his ear about the dogs of Mendoza.

How do you think he sharpens the teeth Ramón? Vargas asked. How do you think he gets them to sit still?

I could tell you but there are ladies at the table. Ramón smiled to no one.

No. Vargas went on. Do they cry when he takes the files to their teeth? Do you think he does it when they are puppies?

I do not care. Ramón forced a laugh.