Gringa by Sandra Scofield Page B

Plaza Garibaldi and made their way through the bustle to a sausage vendor. They ate, drank beer, and talked about what they saw going on around them, as if in naming things they made them matter. “It makes me dizzy after a while,” Sage said. “How I hate cities!”
    â€œBut what have you done in Mexico?” Abilene asked. She had been wondering how they would pass the day. It was a relief to discover—and a surprise, too—that he had never done anything in the city. He had never been to Chapultapec or Xochimilco; he had been to none of the museums; he had in fact only been to the city to do business with bureaucrats. He said his eyes stung, and the noise was driving him wild.
    She took him to the park. “On summer Sundays there are a million people here,” she told him. They found a spot in the shade near a pond where children were calling to ducks and the children’s parents were laying out a picnic.
    Abilene saw that Sage was watching the children.
    â€œDo you see your kids? Do you miss them?” she asked.
    â€œNo. Yes, sometimes. They’re in Houston. I’m going to go soon for a week and take them over to the gulf, to Padre Island. I wish you could come. White sand, no buildings.”
    She didn’t think it was a real invitation.
    â€œThen I’ve got to get back to work. Actually I shouldn’t go at all, shouldn’t leave the ranch. But she thinks I won’t come to see them. She thinks I’ll just send money and leave them alone. It’s what she wants, and if I skip a summer, she’ll say I don’t want them, and that they’re forgetting—Shit.”
    Abilene didn’t understand the feelings Sage was talking about; she didn’t think her father had ever missed her. Of course she’d been much older. She’d had her time.
    Sage went on with his earlier train of thought. “I’ve got my foreman staying in the house twenty-four hours a day while I’m gone.”
    â€œIs something wrong?”
    â€œOh sure something’s wrong. The whole damned place is turning into a funhouse. The clutch went out on a jeep and it ran right off into the river. Of course the water’s only fifteen inches high, and nobody was hurt, but what a nuisance! And then there have been problems with the generator. That’s not new, but so often! And more serious things. Tonio’s keeping brave bulls at his father’s ranch now, adjacent to mine, and some asshole left a gate down. One of my men was gored—”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound quite right!”
    Sage looked at her sharply. “Meaning what?”
    She had steered them into a bad place. “I just meant, anything Tonio does is usually taken care of. Gates—”
    â€œWell this one wasn’t!”
    â€œCome on, let’s go to the museum. Look, it’s almost time for the afternoon squall. Everyone is getting out of here.”
    He wasn’t interested in old things. He wanted to talk. They bought beer and went back to Claude’s apartment. Abilene dreaded talking. “How long can you stay?” she asked when they were just inside the door. She held her keys in her hand as though she expected to let him out again in a moment. He looked at her so oddly, she was suddenly embarrassed, and went around pushing things into place to cover the embarrassment.
    â€œToday, tomorrow. I’ll take the Thursday plane back.”
    â€œWhat do you have to do while you’re here?” She assumed he had business.
    He looked disgusted. “I came to see you, woman. What did you think I was here for?”
    She thought: At least Tonio never asks me questions! Never pushes me to say things!
    The truth was Tonio wasn’t interested in what she thought about anything, she knew that. He’d never wanted to know about her life, her family. Oh, he’d wanted to know about her sex life. “Tell me about all the boys,”