Chapter 8 #2
Joana smiled at Tadeo’s grandmother and announced that she’d brought them bread from the bakery, not paying any mind to what the uncle was doing.
When the grandmother neared her, she kissed Joana’s cheeks in greeting.
But, after this, Joana looked gravely at Tadeo, nodded toward the kitchen — where there would be a way into the yard, where she most preferred to talk with him.
Tadeo shook his head warily, murmuring that he wanted to go out and find his mother, and Joana paused, before sighing.
“We can talk tonight,” Tadeo reassured before stepping away to allow his family to fawn over the angel.
Dina stared at the man kneeled before him, confused and almost frightened, and he lifted a hand, wanting to put it on the man’s head to lightly push him away.
‘A man shouldn’t worship an angel.’ But the uncle took the angel’s fingers in his calloused own, clasped his hand, then brought it to his mouth and kissed once, twice.
Immediately, the angel almost yanked it away and cried out, but he remembered the illustrations in the books he liked; he remembered the princesses having their fingers kissed by charming princes. And he felt warmth rise to his cheeks.
The man was saying, “My God, what an honor for you to be here. We are blessed. Despite everything, we’re so blessed.”
The grandmother affirmed it: “Thank you, my Lady. My Lady of Guadalupe.”
Anxiously, the angel drifted his hand away, and he felt the presence of someone come up to his side, lean down and nudge at his shoulder — Joana. She said, “Hello.”
Dina blinked up at her. “Hello?”
“How’s Tadeo treated you?” she asked, suddenly amicable.
“Tadeo?” Dina saw that the boy in question was wrapping his arms around his grandmother and kissing her cheek before he turned down his head so she could kiss his forehead. “He… asked me about Jesus.”
“Yeah, he’s a real fag about Jesus.”
The uncle burst out into a wheezing laugh as the grandmother hissed, “Joana!” At the same time, Tadeo let out a long sigh before saying he was going out to look for his mother and grandfather. Dina, meanwhile, realized his language learning hadn’t been as thorough as he’d thought.
But some hours passed uneventfully, the uncle ushering the angel to the couch and immediately telling him of his experiences with God, and asking quite frankly if he was going to go to Heaven, while Dina turned his face back to the television and stared at every spectacle of color and noise.
He watched it so intently that the man soon surrendered and went to speak with his daughter and her baby.
And, soon, Dina had moved onto the floor, closer to the enormous, bulky television — “Angelito, you’re going to hurt your eyes!
” the grandmother called — but he leaned even closer in fascination, almost pressing his face against the screen.
He didn’t seem to notice when Tadeo returned with his mother and grandfather, nor did he seem to care at how the family moved around him, going about their day.
That night, a dozen members of the family and an angel were gathered between the crowded dining area and living room, some having to stand by a long table at the wall.
This table upheld a nativity scene currently; before that, it had been an altar of portraits and candles to remember the dead.
Though the Day of the Dead was long gone — and a tradition that Tadeo’s paternal side was far more attached to — they had kept most of the portraits, now on one side while baby Jesus was on the other.
There was a Bible, too, in a corner that only Tadeo ever read because his grandparents were not great readers and his parents, though religious, had always found their faith more in whims and what their own parents had taught them, rather than anything in the scripture itself.
But none of his family had come back from the dead as he had, so one shouldn’t be surprised that Tadeo believed a little harder than anyone else.
Tadeo could see the altar and nativity from the corner of his eye from where he sat, his plate already finished before him.
They’d had roasted chicken and tortillas, along with some tamales left over from Christmas.
Soon, it would be the day of the 3 Kings, and the family would cut open a rosca, searching for an infant Jesus in the bread.
Then, they would make tamales again, much like the ones that the angel beside him was shoveling into his mouth with his hands, not bothering with a fork, eating almost like the stray dogs that travel over roofs.
Tadeo’s grandfather was asking, “Do they have tamales in Heaven?”
Nodding, Dina swallowed his meal down, then turned a bright smile to him. “Very similar!” he chirped, and the old man sighed in relief.
When a shoe kicked at Tadeo’s ankle, he assumed it might’ve been a little cousin, one of which had a habit of crawling under the table and grabbing at any limb he could, but when he was struck harder, Tadeo jolted and turned to Joana.
She was chewing and nodding her head, silently urging Tadeo to speak with her again. And Tadeo looked away.
“We’re really grateful that you’re here,” said the grandmother, who was just near enough to take Dina’s hand and squeeze it.
“Our family has suffered so much. But with an angel in our home, it all feels much better. I’ve been wanting to ask about my daughter’s husband.
” Tadeo’s father; Tadeo’s mother, meanwhile, was being fed by her brother, who dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
“Is he in Heaven? He was a good man. He’s in Heaven, right? ”
“Heaven?” Dina echoed, then turned his head when an older cousin called out:
“My best friend! Her name was Imelda de la Cruz. She was so sweet, but she died in a crash five years ago. Have you ever seen her up with the angels?”
A smaller cousin then said, “Oh, my friend’s dad died two years ago! Is he in Heaven too?”
“I… don’t know,” distantly, quietly, Dina answered them all. “I suppose I don’t… know all those in Heaven. They might all be there, but I’m the wrong angel to ask. Forgive me.”
Joana’s sharp grumble cut through: “Yeah, you don’t know shit about anything, do you?”
“Joana,” Tadeo said harshly, tired now of whatever the hell her problem was.
But Dina affirmed her kindly. “No. I don’t know much… Forgive me for that too.”
Silence fell, even the scrapes of cutlery on plates stopping, before Joana said: “This town was taken over by traffickers, so they could hold a route to the north. Do you understand that, angel? Do you know what drugs are?” Almost immediately, Tadeo opened his mouth to cut her off, but he stopped when the angel jumped, nothing but bewilderment on the face Dina was tilting in confusion; ‘you, really, don’t know anything?
’ “The state thought our police were too corrupt to save, so they expelled them all and put us under the military. It didn’t work.
The soldiers are also a lot of fucking criminals, and around ten years ago, there were massacres here, and the state didn’t give a shit about any of us.
They called us ungovernable and left us here to die.
” And now the infant in Tadeo’s cousin’s arms was crying again.
“Ten years ago, Tadeo resurrected, too.”
Dina whispered, “I do know of that.”
“Ten years ago, he came back to life, and a few years ago, I convinced him to fight for us, to kill the traffickers and the soldiers that work with them. This is the most peaceful life has been since the massacres. And now you’re here because you want to stop the end of the world or end it or whatever the fuck it is you want. ”
“For fuck’s sake Joana,” Tadeo found himself snapping, a fist curled on the table though he had begun to wince as if in pain. “What’s wrong with you?”
“We have enough problems right now,” Joana finished, then turned to look at Tadeo directly. “They’re cutting off our gasoline.”
“What?” Tadeo’s grandfather said first. “The gasoline?”
“And they’re sending more soldiers,” Joana said, her scratchy voice breaking tensely at the end.
“They want to choke us until they figure out who’s been killing the criminals and who’s been killing the soldiers.
They haven’t announced it so that it can be a surprise attack, but when they do, they’ll tell everyone they’re trying to kill a kingpin. ”
Tadeo’s blood was cooling rapidly, his hand shaking now. “I’m not,” he said tightly, “a fucking criminal.”
“Well, what else is the world going to call someone who’s killing soldiers, boy?” Joana leaned back into her chair, reached for her glass soda bottle, brought it to her mouth, gulped down the last of it.
“Tadeo,” called the uncle, “relax, son. They don’t know who they’re looking for. You should hide. They’ll leave as soon as they can’t find you, and no one will betray you. The town loves you.”
But Tadeo was frowning, afraid; he hadn’t felt loved in church or on the street. In fact, it’d seemed like everyone would jump at the chance to betray him. ‘But I only kill bad people. I’m a good person. This world is crazy, God. They think I’m a monster for trying to save my people.’
“Din-ita,” the grandmother was saying, wiggling to try and stand around the crowded table.
“Come, come,” she urged, scooting as close to Dina as she could, then touching his shoulder gingerly with a trembling, wrinkled hand.
“You need to get out of those clothes. I’ll tell you where you can wash up and where you can sleep. I’ll find you something clean to wear.”
The angel remained seated for a moment, his eyes wide, listening to the silence, before he nodded, whispering that he would like to be clean again.