A Desert Called Peace by Tom Kratman Page B

troughs), there were few women of plainly mestiza backgrounds. None of these had been quite pretty enough to bring forth painful memories.
    His first night at the hotel a few women, either too insensitive to pick up on Hennessey's pain or kind hearted and sympathetic enough to wish to relieve the pain if possible, approached him. It wasn't difficult for Hennessey to tell the difference. The former he sent packing with few words. The latter he spoke to as much as they might care to speak, or as much as he could stand to.
    The second night in the city a pair of women, a tall and light one and a slightly shorter dark one, sat down not quite beside him. It was the darker one who broke the ice. She said her name was Edielise. Hennessey didn't catch the last name and didn't really much care to. He answered her questions, asking only enough of his own for politeness' sake. He covered his reticence by taking another drink whenever the girl seemed about to say something that might call for a thoughtful response.
    The other girl, who remained silent throughout the conversation, thought, What a typically arrogant gringo . Here Edi is trying her best to be polite and all he can do is nod and grunt. He's hardly even responding at all . Hennessey and the darker girl had been speaking English the whole time. Pushing her own drink away, the lighter of the two said, in Spanish, although she too spoke excellent English, "Come on Edi, this gringo is too dull and stupid to waste time on."
    Hennessey, who also spoke quite good Spanish, answered quickly, "Maybe you're right. I might be dull and I'm probably stupid too. Mostly, though, I'm just tired, drunk, and sad."
    A little angry at her comment, and a little drunk as well, Hennessey told her why he was as he was. "You see, my wife and three little children were killed two days ago, in First Landing in the Federated States."
    He delivered the words with the kind of apologetic tone that sounds like "it's all my fault" but makes the hearer feel that it is entirely their fault. Then, while the two girls sat dumbfounded, Hennessey excused himself and left for his room. He didn't feel any better. It was cruel, pointlessly so, and worse, he knew it.
    When Hennessey reached his room he was already cursing himself for being a boor. It wasn't their fault , he thought. They were just trying to be civil. Tomorrow maybe I'll go to Cristobal. I'm not fit for civilized company right now.
    After Hennessey left, the taller, lighter girl—her name was Lourdes Nuñez-Cordoba—stayed in the disco for a long time feeling very small, very dark, and very ashamed.
    Lourdes was only twenty-four, slender and pretty enough, too. She looked even younger; she had lived a somewhat sheltered life. She'd never known anyone who had so much real hurt in his voice as that gringo had. What a bitch I am, what a pure bitch. That poor man's lost everything and I had to insult him. I didn't even have a chance to apologize. Damn . Turning to her friend she asked what the gringo's name was.
    "I don't know his last name. It was a funny one. His first name was Pat, he said."
    Gesturing at the door with her head, Lourdes said to her friend, "Let's go home. I'll come back myself tomorrow, early, and see if I can catch him before he leaves. I hope he'll accept an apology. I feel so terrible."
     
    When Hennessey awoke the next morning, hung-over and needing a shave, he cursed to see the time. "Dammit, almost eleven. I wanted to get out of here no later than nine."
    He went to the shower to scrape off the previous day's accumulations. Normally he liked to sing in the shower, old ballads of war, revenge, and rebellion that he had learned at his grandfather's knee. This morning, the idea of singing was enough to make him want to puke. Instead, as he soaped off, Hennessey's mind wandered to the events of the night before. He felt genuinely guilty at having lashed out at the poor girl who'd called him dull. He didn't blame her a bit; he had