The Book of Want: A Novel

Prologue: The Law Giver

THE LAW GIVER Conchita kicked her legs back and forth as they dangled from the edge of the chair. She fingered pieces of tamales de puerco past her greasy lips and happily hummed a nondescript melody. Belén stood by the woodstove and prepared a fresh cigarette. She liked them fat, bulging with tobacco. She watched her daughter eat and wondered how a four-year-old girl could consume as much as Conchita did without becoming a gordita. Belén licked one end of the now-full paper and rolled it until it resembled a boa constrictor that had just consumed a large dog or baby goat. She placed the cigarette between her lips, bent toward the oven, and puffed noisily as she lit it from a tiny flame that danced through one of the four round holes on the stovetop. Belén pulled back and stood as straight as she could. She scratched her bloated belly and wondered if this baby would be born alive, unlike the last three. A few more weeks and she’d know. As Belén took a long drag on her cigarette, she watched Conchita lift the plate to her mouth and lick up the remaining onion-and-cilantro sauce. “¡Ay!” said Belén through a cloud of white smoke. “We’re not poor, mija. You don’t have to eat like you haven’t had a bite in days!” Conchita put the plate down and smiled. She then reached for her cup of hot coffee and carefully took a drink. Even at this young age, Belén could see that her daughter would grow to be a beautiful woman who enjoyed life. Belén wondered if her next one would be a boy. The three that God took before they could take a breath were all girls. The odds were in favor of a son. And that’s what Celso wanted. Her husband adored Conchita but he desperately wanted a boy to take his name and follow him into the good-paying work at the Velasco ranch, which had some of the best cattle in the state of Jalisco. Hard work, to be sure, but Celso had been able to feed and clothe his growing family with some money left over for those extras that made life more than comfortable. They never wanted for anything even though the Great Depression and World War II had taken their toll on so many others. Life was good. The morning sun came through the large window hard and bright. It was only seven in the morning but Celso had already been out the door and working for more than two hours. As Belén puffed away, she kept her eyes on Conchita. Her daughter’s welfare weighed her down all morning because of that dream. Belén’s late mother, Mónica, had spoken to her last night. Belén turned her mother’s words round and round in her mind trying to decipher the message. For some reason, the dead spoke in riddles. Belén vowed that when she left this world and visited her loved ones in dreams, she would speak clearly and never ever obfuscate. What’s the use of warning a daughter by communicating in code? Is this how the dead entertained themselves or tested the intelligence of their listeners? Or did God set up strict rules by which the dead were allowed to visit? Who knows. But all Belén understood at that moment was that her mother had given a warning of some type that concerned Conchita. In the dream, Mónica had told Belén, “Your hija must listen to Moses, the law giver.” She also added another odd tidbit: “Remember my name by putting me in the middle.” Nonsense. No. The dead visit for a reason. The baby kicked. And then it came to Belén as if she’d read it in a newspaper, if she could read. She rubbed her belly and grinned. This baby would be a girl, she realized. And they would name her Mónica. So simple! How could she not have seen it sooner? Celso would be disappointed but they could always try for a son next time. A healthy baby, even a girl, was a gift from God. Period. Now for the other mystery. Conchita must listen to Moses? Belén puffed on her cigarette. Moses? Moses. Oh. Yes. Yes! That’s it! She walked to the table and sat down...