The House of the Scorpion (14 page)

11
THE GIVING AND TAKING OF GIFTS

M
att wandered around the garden, admiring the ice sculptures and a fountain of wine with orange slices bobbing in a red pool. He dipped his finger in to taste. It wasn’t as good as it looked.

He checked the place cards on the tables and saw that he was, as usual, seated next to El Patrón. Mr. MacGregor was on El Patrón’s other side. The other favored guests were Mr. Alacrán and Felicia, Benito, back from college—or rather,
expelled
from college—and Steven and Tom. Mr. Alacrán’s father rounded out the guests at the head table. Everyone called him El Viejo these days because he seemed even older than El Patrón.

Humming to himself, Matt removed Tom’s card and put it at the baby table. A nanny sat at each end to keep order, and high chairs were lined up on either side. Matt located María’s card and placed it next to his.

Next Matt explored the edge of the garden, where the bodyguards formed a sullen, dark perimeter. Each of the presidents, dictators, and generals had brought his own protectors, and of course the Alacráns had hired a small army for the party. Matt counted more than two hundred men.

Who were they guarding against? he wondered. Who was likely to come charging across the poppy fields? But Matt was used to bodyguards at all family affairs, and it seemed natural for them to be there.

The sun was setting, and the garden was full of a cool, green light. The Ajo Mountains still glowed purple-brown in the distance, and the poppy fields were tipped with a gold that faded even as Matt watched. Lamps went on in the trees.

“You pig!” cried María, who had Furball ensconced in a bag slung over her shoulder. “Just once you could be nice to Tom. I’ve moved his card right back.”

“I’m punishing him for trying to drown Furball,” said Matt.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Furball couldn’t have fallen into the toilet and pulled the top down. It isn’t possible. Tom did it.”

“He couldn’t be that evil,” said María.

“Since when? Anyhow, it’s my party, and I get to say who sits where.” Matt was beginning to lose patience with María. He was trying to be nice to her, and she was taking it all wrong.

“They eat
mush
at the baby table.”

“Good,” Matt said. He fetched Tom’s card and replaced it. María reached for it again, and he grabbed her wrist quite hard.

“Ow! That hurts! I’m going to stay here.”

“No, you aren’t,” said Matt.

“I’ll do whatever I like!”

Matt ran back to his table with María trying to push past him and grab her place card. El Patrón had arrived, along with MacGregor and the others.

“What’s this? What’s this?” said El Patrón. Matt and María skidded to a halt.

“I want her to sit next to me,” said Matt.

The old man laughed: a dry, dusty sound. “Is she your little girlfriend, your
novia ?”

“That’s disgusting,” said Mr. Alacrán.

“Is it?” El Patrón chuckled. “Matt’s no different than I was at that age.”

“Matt’s a clone!”

“He’s
my
clone. Sit here, girl. Make room for her, Tam Lin.” Tam Lin found a place setting for María. He frowned at Matt.

“Where’s Tom?” Felicia said. Everyone turned to look at her. Felicia was so quiet and so seldom seen, most people seemed to forget she existed.

“Where is Tom?” El Patrón turned to Matt.

“I put him at the baby table,” said Matt.

“You pig!” shouted María.

El Patrón laughed. “That’s the stuff, Mi Vida. Get rid of your enemies when you can. I don’t like Tom either, and dinner will be better without him.”

Felicia balled up her napkin in her fist, but she didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to stay here! I want to be with Tom!” cried María.

“Well, you can’t,” Matt said flatly. Why did she always have to stick up for him? She didn’t even stop to think. There was no way Furball could have pulled the lid down on top of himself. But she didn’t believe Matt because he was only a “disgusting clone.” A dull rage at the unfairness of it swept over him.

“Do as you’re told, girl.” El Patrón suddenly lost interest in the drama and turned to Mr. MacGregor on his other side.

María, choking back tears, was pushed up to the table by Tam Lin. “I’ll see he gets the same food as the rest of us,” he whispered.

“No, you won’t,” said Matt.

Tam Lin raised his eyebrows. “Is that a direct order, Master Matt?”

“Yes.” Matt tried to ignore María’s soft whimpers as she strove not to draw attention to herself. If she couldn’t bring herself to punish Tom, he would do it for her. Food was brought and served. María selected bits to feed Furball and continued to stare down at her lap.

“Fetal brain implants—I must try that sometime,” said MacGregor. “It’s done wonders for you.”

“Don’t put it off too long,” El Patrón advised. “You have to give the doctors at least five months’ lead time. Eight is better.”

“I won’t be able to use—?”

“Oh, no. He’s
much
too old.”

Felicia was staring down at her plate with almost as much dejection as María. She wasn’t even pretending to eat. She drank from a tall glass that was regularly filled by a servant. She looked pleadingly at MacGregor, although Matt couldn’t guess what she could want from him. In any case, he ignored her—and so did her husband and everyone else for that matter.

El Viejo, Mr. Alacrán’s father, spilled his food and made a mess on the tablecloth. No one paid attention to him, either.

“See, there’s an example of someone who didn’t get his implants when he should have,” said El Patrón, pointing at El Viejo.

“Father decided against it,” said Mr. Alacrán.

“He’s a fool, then. Look at him, Matt. Would you believe that’s my grandson?”

Matt hadn’t worked out the exact relationship between El Viejo and El Patrón before. It hadn’t seemed important. El Patrón looked ancient, no doubt about it, but his mind was sharp. At least now it was. After those whatever-they-were implants. El Viejo could hardly string a sentence together, and some of the time he sat in his room and
screamed
. Celia said that happened to some old people and that Matt mustn’t worry about it.

“I could believe he’s your grandfather,” said Matt.

El Patrón laughed, spraying food particles over his plate. “That’s what comes of not taking care of yourself.”

“Father decided implants were immoral,” said Mr. Alacrán, “and I honored his decision.” A sudden intake of breath around the table told Matt that Mr. Alacrán had said something dangerous. “He’s deeply religious. He thinks God put him on earth for a certain number of years and that he mustn’t ask for more.”

El Patrón stared at Mr. Alacrán for a long moment. “I’ll overlook your rudeness,” he said at last. “It’s my birthday and I’m in a good mood. But someday you’ll be old too. Your body will start to fall apart and your brain will deteriorate. See if you’re so high-minded then.” He went back to eating, and everyone relaxed.

“May I check up on Tom?” Felicia said in her uncertain way.

“Stay out of this,” growled Mr. Alacrán.

“I—I only wanted to see if he had food.”

“For God’s sake! He’s capable of standing on his own hind legs and finding something to eat!”

Those were Matt’s sentiments too, but he was surprised at the anger Mr. Alacrán showed toward Felicia. How could anyone get mad at her? She was so helpless. Felicia hung her head and withdrew into silence.

After dinner Tam Lin rolled El Patrón to the bougainvillea arbor for the gift giving. Mr. MacGregor excused himself because he had to rest up for an operation. Matt was glad to see him go.

El Patrón set great importance on gifts. “You can tell how much someone loves you by the size of the present,” he often told Matt. He preferred to receive gifts, rather than give them. “The flow of wealth should be from outside”—El Patrón opened his arms wide, as though he were about to hug someone—“in.” El Patrón gave himself a big bear hug instead. Matt thought this was very funny.

Daft Donald and Tam Lin brought the boxes to El Patrón. Matt read the cards and tore off the wrappers. A secretary recorded who had given what and the value of the gift. Watches, jewelry, paintings, statues, and moon rocks piled up on the lawn. Matt thought the moon rocks looked like something you could find anywhere in the Ajo Mountains, but they came with a certificate and were very expensive.

The faded princess gave El Patrón a statue of a naked baby with wings—one of the few gifts he seemed to like. Matt gave him a wallet that had looked good in the catalog and now seemed shabby next to the other presents. “You’d need a wallet as big as the Grand Canyon to hold El Patrón’s paper money,” Celia had said, “and you’d have to drain the Gulf of California for the small change.”

The Farmers, one and all, gave weapons: guns that responded to one’s voice, lasers that could burn an intruder to a crisp from the other side of a wall, flying minibombs that clamped themselves on to an enemy’s skin. The latter were programmed to recognize specific people. Tam Lin took the weapons away the minute Matt unwrapped them.

“Open your presents, Mi Vida,” El Patrón said after a long while. His eyes were half closed, and he looked almost bloated with all the gifts he’d received. A mountain of new possessions surrounded his wheelchair.

Matt eagerly tore open a small box from Celia. It was a hand-knitted sweater. Where she’d found the time to knit, Matt didn’t know. Tam Lin gave him a book identifying edible plants in the desert. El Patrón gave him a battery-driven car big enough to sit in. It had flashing lights and a siren. Matt was too old for such things, but he knew the car had been very expensive and therefore that El Patrón loved him very much.

María snatched away the present she’d brought him. “I don’t want to give you anything!” she cried.

“Give that back,” Matt said, angry that she’d made a scene in front of everyone.

“You don’t deserve it!” María started to run away, but she was halted by her father, Senator Mendoza.

“Hand him the box,” said Senator Mendoza.

“He was mean to Tom!”

“Do it.”

María wavered for a moment and then flung the box as far away as she could.

“Pick it up and bring it to me,” Matt said. He was in a cold rage.

“Let her go,” said Tam Lin in a low voice, but Matt wasn’t in any mood to listen. María had insulted him in front of everyone, and he intended to make her pay.

“That’s the stuff,” El Patrón said gleefully. “Make your women toe the line.”

“Get it
now,”
said Matt in the same cold, deadly voice he’d heard El Patrón use on terrified servants.

“Please, María,” Senator Mendoza coaxed gently.

Sobbing, she retrieved the present and thrust it at Matt. “I hope you choke on it!”

Matt was trembling and afraid he’d lose control and start crying too. Suddenly he remembered what El Patrón had said earlier:
Is she your little girlfriend?
Why shouldn’t María be his girlfriend? Why should he be different from everyone because he was a clone? When he looked into the mirror, he saw no difference between himself and the others. It was unfair that he was treated like Furball when he had good grades and could name the planets, the brightest stars, and all the constellations. “One more thing,” Matt said. “I demand a birthday kiss.”

Gasps ricocheted around the crowd. Senator Mendoza turned ashen, and he put his hands protectively on María’s shoulders. “Don’t do this,” murmured Tam Lin. El Patrón beamed with delight.

“It’s my party too,” said Matt, “and I can have anything I want. Isn’t that so,
mi patrón?”

“It’s so, my little fighting cock. Give him the kiss, girl.”

“He’s a clone!” Senator Mendoza cried.

“He’s
my
clone.” Suddenly El Patrón wasn’t the jovial birthday host anymore. He seemed dark and dangerous, like a creature you might stumble on in the middle of the night. Matt remembered Tam Lin’s words about his master:
He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted
. Matt was sorry he’d started this whole affair, but it was too late now.

“Do it, María,” said Senator Mendoza. “I won’t let it happen again. I promise.”

The senator didn’t know that Maráa had kissed Matt on several occasions, just as she kissed Furball and anything else that pleased her. Matt knew this was different, though. He was humiliating her. If it had been Tom asking for the kiss, no one would have cared. People would have thought it cute for a boy to flirt with his
novia
.

Matt wasn’t a boy. He was a beast.

María came up to him, no longer angry or rebellious. She reminded him of Felicia bent sadly over her plate. For an instant he wanted to say,
Stop. It was a joke. I didn’t mean it
. But it was too late. El Patrón was watching them with obvious glee, and Matt realized it might be dangerous to draw back now. Who knew how the old man might punish María if he had his fun spoiled now?

María leaned forward, and Matt felt the cold brush of her lips on his skin. Then she ran to her father and collapsed in tears. He gathered her up and shouldered his way through the crowd. The paralysis that had seized everyone broke. Everyone started talking at once—not about what had just happened, but about anything else. But Matt felt their eyes on him—accusing, disgusted, repelled.