3. Her First Cruise Ship #4
They all applauded having survived, and Ileana stood up and gaped at them.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” She gestured wildly to the open front door where a street sweeper vehicle scrubbed up the pieces of flesh and blood that used to be handsome-but-sleazy David.
“Someone was murdered! Right in front of us!”
No one responded. They looked somewhat chastened but resigned. Like they were hardened soldiers who had long ago made their peace with the horrors of combat.
Finally, Carmen leaned the mop against the counter, walked up, and took Ileana’s arm. “Amor, every job has its risks, ?verdad?”
Ileana cackled maniacally. “Yeah, papercuts! Tweaked back muscle, maybe! Not getting torn apart by your customers!”
“Everyone freaks out the first time. It’s a shock, but you get… well, not used to it, more like… tolerant of it.” Carmen’s voice took on a Miss Frizzle level of calm patience.
“But the police, the government, I don’t know, the CDC? They all know about this?” Ileana looked over at Carmen, hoping for clarity. Or at least a clue.
“On the mainland? They don’t give a shit what happens down here, but locally, of course they know.
But we need the tourist dollars. It’s a huge part of our economy in this city.
Besides, if the cruise passengers get what they want, they leave.
But not before dropping hundreds of millions of dollars a year in our coffers. ”
Ileana snorted. “Yeah, zombie dollars!”
Carmen shrugged. “Live, undead, doesn’t matter. Their money is still green.”
“But at what cost?” Ileana hated that this was starting to make sense to her. “That money won’t do David any good! Or Armando!”
“Ah, but it was their greed that got them killed.” Carmen looked at Ileana, who was about to respond, when she continued, “Honey, my cousin Ines worked her ass off all forty-two years of her life. She cleaned houses of the rich in Finca Elena in Guaynabo—”
Ileana flinched: her father lived in that very community.
“Last July she developed a terrible cough, though she never smoked a day in her life. Then, a few months later, she drops dead. Doctors said emphysema from the cleaning chemicals. There’s always a risk, particularly for those of us in the working class who don’t have many options.”
Ileana felt that one like a blow. She had a choice to work a cushy job with her father, something that her co-workers didn’t have. She choked back a sob.
Carmen seemed to notice the tears in Ileana’s eyes.
“Honey, it’s okay if you don’t want to stay.
None of us would blame you. Hell, if I had a choice, I doubt I would.
” She touched the younger woman’s face with her palm, the way Ileana’s mother used to when she was little.
“I hope you choose to stay, but you have to do what’s best for you.
Just let me know what you decide, okay?” She patted her cheek, smiled, and was off to mop up the remains of the man’s guts by the ceramics section.
Ileana stood there for a long while and pictured working for her father as he barked orders at her and criticized her “inappropriate office attire.” Imagined weathering gossip in the office kitchen about nepotism and hearing her credentials (not unjustly) questioned.
Then she tuned back into the store, the strums of the cuatro guitar and heartbeat of the conga drum reaching her from the speakers on the ceiling, accompanied by the familiar and comforting music of Puerto Rican Spanish all around her.
As she stood there in thought, a family came in. Normal tourists, all smiles and enthusiasm. The young boy loved the sound of the coqui frog and began to jump back and forth in front of the sensor, setting off a continuous string of co-kee, until his father gently ushered him in with a chuckle.
Sol walked back in through the front door, shuffling fistfuls of bloody paper towels behind their back as they passed the family. When they reached Ileana, they put the Windex on the counter and smiled big at her. “You did great, hermana.”
“Thanks,” she said as she returned the cleaner to its rightful place on the shelf. It was then she noticed the piece of skin hanging off the bags. She tsked a bit, then flicked it off and into the wastebasket. “Let me know if you have any questions,” she called to the family with a cheery voice.
The mother smiled at her. “We will. You have so many beautiful things here.”
“Thank you! They’re all handmade by Puerto Rican artisans.” When she turned around, Ileana saw Carmen watching her with a smile. The manager gave her a nod, and Ileana nodded back. Then she got to work cleaning handprints off the glass cases.
When she next looked up, she saw Vanessa, the leggy salesperson who had worked with David, out on the sidewalk, talking to every tourist or local who walked by about their skin, her full lips smiling their glamorous smile as if nothing had changed.
As Ileana worked to make the glass shine, she realized that nothing, in fact, had changed. Nope. It was just another day in the colony.