She doesn’t realize how relieved he is to see her. To follow Aaz to the door and let him into the house without a word. The anxiety he’d felt when he’d thought Palabras had kidnapped her and would harm her to punish him. He can’t imagine anything more beautiful than her lively old face.
– Are you driving a taxi again?
– Not yet, but soon.
– Will you quit as director?
– Maybe. But I’ll drive for a while, then see.
She tries to get his attention, but he’s gazing down the corridor at the flowers, which he can see behind the kitchen window.
– So no more detective work?
– No more.
– What about the boy?
– I found his mother.
– You did?
– Yes.
– Was she dead? she whispers.
– No, she was very much alive. She owns a restaurant. A tough young lass, but she’s all right.
Mónica grins. – You probably know plenty like her.
Erhard knows she’s referring to herself, but he thinks of Annette and the time in his life that he could not stand her. The most difficult thing is to love someone who needs you; the easiest thing is to love someone who’s not interested.
– See you at five o’clock, he says, then turns and heads down the stairs. She remains standing in the doorway, and he doesn’t hear the door click shut until he reaches the end of the walk.
He drives a red Opel Corsa. It’s Barouki’s. He’s borrowing it until he finds a used Mercedes with less than 90,000 miles on the odometer. He wants a better one this time. His plan is to start at Miza’s in the mornings and only drive until lunchtime. Maybe some afternoon he’ll go to the office to see if there’s anything he might do. Barouki’s very different than Marcelis. They even laugh at the same jokes.
The Opel Corsa rumbles towards Corralejo. On the right he sees Calderon Hondo, the pale triangle against the bright blue sky. The crater will always remind him of Juan Pascual, aka Pesce. Location unknown. When Erhard returned to the Hotel Olympus, the doors of the delivery van were wide open, and someone had set fire to the vehicle. It wasn’t completely charred – the fire had been put out before it really got going – but it was nevertheless destroyed. There was no trace of Juan Pascual. Not even in his flat, which is empty; no one has been there for days. Pascual might have boarded a ship. He might be south of the Cape of Good Hope by now. A sailor knows better than anyone how easy it is to disappear in this vast world.
There’s unrest at the airport. One of the larger airlines recently fired a quarter of its staff and discontinued all flights to the island. Thirty people have been sacked while politicians argue about how to boost tourism. The unions are picketing the airport, parking their honking cars in the middle of the road and not allowing taxis in or out, and the police are trying to clear the roads. It’s all over the radio, and people are discussing it down at the corner kiosk where he parks now. He gets out of his car and cuts through the ally.
He waits ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Then the cook comes out with the rubbish and sees Erhard. Erhard gives him twenty euros. The cook goes back inside.
– I figured it was you, she says.
Although she looks whipped, she doesn’t seem as uncomfortable in his presence as the last time. She looks like someone anticipating a scolding. He considers giving her what she expects.
– Do you wish to know what happened to Søren Hollisen and your son?
She says nothing, just plops down on the rickety old stool.
– Søren Hollisen is dead. He sailed the Atlantic Ocean on a ship. Someone shoved him overboard, and he drowned.
Still she does not speak, just stares at the ground. He figures that her automatic smoking mechanism will kick in at any moment and she’ll draw her fags from the small pack she keeps strapped to her waist, but all she does is fumble with the zipper.
– The dumb shit, she whispers. Her eyes are hard in her pale, powdered face. She’s the type of person who hates the sun, who never spends any time outside. She dyes her hair black and paints her eyebrows, and she probably has a bunch of piercings all over her body. But she can’t cover with makeup the fact that she’s fragile and feminine, an angry little girl.
– He wanted to take the boy to Morocco, but fate had other plans. The ship was hijacked.
She looks up, troubled. – What do you mean?
– The ship’s crew thought he’d gone crazy, but he just wanted to save your son, who was inside one of the containers.
She gazes ahead. Waiting for Erhard to continue. Waiting for worse news.
– Hollisen had hidden the boy in a car. When he tried to stop them from transferring the cargo to the second ship, the car slid from the container and plunged into the water. At least that’s what I suspect happened.
– So the boy drowned?
– No. Somehow the car floated on the current, and it wound up at Playa Cotillo.
– What? she says, confused.
– It might have floated for a day and a half, before it washed up on the beach. The tidewater left it almost without a scratch. The police thought it had been stolen from a dealer in Puerto del Rosario. There was a lot of chatter about it here on the island. The boy in the cardboard box.
– Cardboard box?
– For some reason, Hollisen had put the boy in a cardboard box. Perhaps it was only temporary, and maybe the boy had been in the car only for a short time, but once the ship was hijacked it didn’t really matter.
– I didn’t hear anything about any boy in a cardboard box. I heard about a whore who’d abandoned her child in a car on the beach. There was talk of that right when I moved back. But I don’t care about some whore’s kid.
– It wasn’t a whore’s kid. It was your son.
She glowers at him as if she’ll bite his head off.
– Is it possible that you gave birth to him on 23 October?
– No, it was 21 October. You think I can’t remember that? You think I’m that dumb?
– Then why did Hollisen think the boy was born on the 23rd?
– Because I lied to him. I didn’t want him to know. I was going to take care of the kid myself. Without him. I didn’t need him. I’m not into men, you know? But then the kid started screeching and being difficult, and I couldn’t take it any more. I brought it home from the clinic and found Hollisen, high as a kite as always. I didn’t want him to think that he could have a kid handed over to him and just run away. I put the kid in his arms. Look what I’ve made. It’s yours. He was angry that I hadn’t told him. He said he could’ve helped me. Been with me for the birth and all the other shit men say.
He shows her the newspaper fragment with the text rick 2310. He found it along with the dried-out finger on his bookshelf in Majanicho after he moved home and began to clean up.
He figures that she’ll ask him questions. Instead she begins to cry soundlessly. Tears roll down her cheeks. She crumples the fragment into a ball and tosses it into the rubbish bin. He’s about to say something, but stops short.
– He loved that ridiculous film, and he kept talking about opening a cafe in Morocco. We saw the film together, in some theatre in Santa Cruz. Down near the water. That was before he realized I wasn’t into him.
– Which film is that?
– The one with Humphrey Bogart. Where he owns a cafe called Rick’s.
Søren Hollisen the dreamer. Erhard realizes to just what degree the man had tried to lead an extraordinary life only to repeatedly make poor decisions. This is how it looks, he thinks, when a man has to continually clean up after his own irresponsibility. But also how it looks when a man keeps believing that his luck will turn, that all hope is never lost. Until, of course, it is lost.
Erhard takes her hand. At first she’s indifferent to his touch, but then she squeezes his four fingers until it begins to hurt.
– The boy was interred near Playa del Matorral, but I’m having him transferred to Oleana. Rick Hollisen’s name is on the marker, but if you’d like, I can add your name as well.
Though she doesn’t respond to this, she stops crying. – What about the people who did him in? Who pushed him overboard? It’s all their fault, they are…
– I found the one responsible. He’s been punished.
– What kind of punishment? A couple years at the Palace with free room and board?
– The police weren’t involved. So no. He’s dead. I watched him die.
She chews on that a moment. Then she releases his hand and clutches her belly with both hands. – But aren’t you in trouble? Last time I saw you, the police were out to get you.
– A misunderstanding. I’m no longer of interest to them. Erhard thinks about the little computer gizmo lying in the tank at the restaurant, his video recording. It may not be up to date, but there’s enough information there to build a case should it get into the hands of the press.
– You almost sound like my grandfather.
Erhard takes that as a compliment. – Then pretend your grandfather is telling you what I’m about to say. Get an abortion now. You must be at least three months along. Don’t make the same mistake twice.
– I can’t. I can’t kill it.
– Yes, you can. You have to.
– I can’t.
– Then don’t. Have a kid. But for God’s sake love it with all your heart. Love it like you would yourself. Love it like the child you once had. Love it so that it never feels alone.
– I don’t want a husband, or a family. I’m not the mother type.
– Forget all that. Just be with your child. You don’t need a husband or a family to love a child. There are many ways to be a parent. Find the way that best suits you. Just as Søren tried to find his.
The cook returns and looks at them. – Lily, a customer wants her money back. Frida’s asking for you.
– I’m coming, she says. When the cook has gone, she scrutinizes Erhard. – Thank you, she says.
– I want you to have this, too. Erhard draws something from his pocket, and hands it to her.
She feels it in her hand before she understands what it is. – Where did you get this?
– I find things that are lost.
– Who are you? I can’t figure out why you’re doing all this.
– I’m just an old man with nothing better to do.
She puts on the ring, but it’s much too large and she shifts it to her index finger; it glides on like something that belongs there. – Thank you, she says again. Almost in relief. She returns to the restaurant.
He drives home. He has forgotten how much he loves Alejandro’s Trail, and the curve that makes his stomach lurch. He doesn’t enter his house, but sits on a rock and turns his face up towards the sun. He notices the goats running about. Hardy’s back again, though he hasn’t approached the house. Soon Laurel joins him and they stare down the hill at Erhard. Today, Erhard’s the one who walks towards them.