31. Graciela Weaving

Through the foliage Marina saw Machi, David and La Nena running by the water, beyond the jungle, where the devotees of La Virgen, new residents of the park, didn’t go. La Nena tagged David and he stopped and froze, his arms held out and his hands curled. A tiger. Machi patted him and he was freed. He tagged Machi and he froze arms held up in fists. A fighter. La Nena laughed and escaped each time they got near her. She’d climbed onto a high round rock. When he saw his mother Machi came running, grabbed her legs. David and La Nena joined them. She knelt and enfolded the three children in her arms. Machi kissed her cheek. She kissed him back. Their faces were close together. He kissed La Nena. La Nena kissed him, kissed Marina, kissed David. Now they were all kissing, laughing, kissing whatever cheek came close to them. Machi laughed the loudest, he was the choreographer of the kissing. “I love Mami, Mami loves me, I love La Nena, I love David, David loves Mami,….Oh God we all love each other.” She was almost dizzy from joy.
Machi led them out of the jungle, weaving through the maze of shelters among the trees, past the dozens gathered at their tree, praying to La Virgen. Shelters had sprung up in the meadow beyond the woods. By the shelters, against tree trunks, everywhere, were photographs with offerings of flowers, of the sick, the desaparecidos. La Nena whispered to Machi. He nodded and walked back to where Marina tagged along. “La Nena says she wants us to come to her house. Her mother will give us something to eat.”
Of course the two couldn’t only be living in the park but Marina had never considered where they might live. La Nena led them to the Eastern edge of Moon Park, into the lobby of a tall building. She ran in circles and twirled inside the enormous once grand space, the granite was worn into a shallow bowl in the center. She led them to one of two marble staircases. She led the boys up and down the first flight a few times. Marina stood on the landing and watched La Nena teach the boys to sit and slide on the concave center of the marble steps. Chunks of the ornate plaster along the stairs had broken off and were smoothed over with glossy red paint.
La Nena stopped the game and led them all around the stairwell to the left into a doorway and down narrow slate staircase to the basement. They followed her in dim emergency lights around an enormous boiler, to the far left. She pushed open a glossy red door and waved them into a living room with an overstuffed couch and two huge chairs covered in red cloth with black zizzag designs.
Graciela la Vieja stepped into the room wiping her hands on an apron. She reached for La Nena and swept her into her arms. “Estan en su casa.” She kissed Marina and led her to the couch. The boys climbed onto the enormous couch with La Nena and sat at either side of her, very close. Graciela la Vieja sat in one of the armchairs and La Nena left the boys and climbed onto her lap. “Mi Mama es la super. Mi Papa es el super, but my Mama does all the work because he’s got another job.”
La Nena turned to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “We’re all hungry, hungry, hungry.” She jumped up and called out to the boys. “Vengan.” They followed her down a hallway. Graciela led Marina into the same narrow space, as far as the first door. The children had vanished into the door at the far end. Graciela stood by an enormous white stove, spooned beans and rice into bowls, and set them on a long table covered with red and black cloth under thick clear plastic. From where Marina sat at the end of the table she saw another door and beyond it an enormous loom. Graciela followed her gaze. “We are weavers. My husband is a weaver and I’ve learned from him.” She read Marina’s curiosity. “Go look if you like.” She called out to the children as she led Marina into the back room. It had been built out beyond the original basement super apartment. They'd colonized a portion of the basement. In the center a huge loom made from rough hewn planks held a half finished cloth, the same red background, another version of the geometric black design.
The children burst into the room.
“Miren.” La Nena raced to the table by the back wall, pulled back a cloth, pointed to a vat. The boys peered inside. Machi let out a cry. “Bugs.” La Nena told him they were dead. David reached a hand inside and La Nena slapped it away. “No toquen.” She took one of the insects and crushed it in the palm of her hand. A red splotch appeared. She ran away waving her hand at the boys. Graciela la Vieja rolled her eyes.
“You said you were hungry.” She made the children stand at the sink and wash their hands. La Nena waved her hands. Even after scrubbing off with soap the two bruised circles in the center of her palms remained. Marina couldn't stop herself. “Her stigmata?” Graciela shrugged.
The children ate in silence, their faces close to their bowls, until all the rice and beans were gone. La Vieja gave them small pieces of guayaba con queso. They rose and ran down the hallway back into the far room. Marina didn’t ask where they had gone. She kept forming and reforming a question in her mind: What’s up with your daughter’s hands? Are those spots real? Are you con artists? What’s going on? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. Instead she took the dishes to the sink and washed and dried them while Graciela made them coffee.
Just as she was putting the dishes into a glass doored cabinet, rescued from the street and painted with the same glossy red paint, Graciela moved to the door, and stepped aside to let the tall man who stood there silently, enter. She kissed him on the lips. “Mi marido Esteban.” Marina offered him her hand. He sat heavily on a chair and rubbed his eyes. Graciela served him. “My man gets very tired driving other people around for ten hours straight.” He smiled and took her hand. “Sit.You work too hard.” She smiled. “Then he stays up half the night weaving.” He pushed her onto his lap. “Y nuestra Nena?” Graciela loosened his tie. “She’s got friends here.”
Marina watched Esteban eat with Graciela on his lap with a longing bordering on desperation. Graciela caught her eye, rose and came to her, put her hand on her shoulders. “Tell Esteban. Maybe he has some ideas. El resuelve.”He turned to face her. He offered her his gaze. She could see into his tired brown eyes. He was offering her room in his mind and she took it. It felt good to tell him Ori had been taken a week ago. He was often taken but he'd never before been gone more than two days. She didn't know what was different. Esteban offered no solutions. But after she told him, she felt able to look for Ori one more day.