Departing at Dawn

24 Holy Wood

151 24 Holy Wood When she finished reading the letter that Rococo, Mr. ThousandFive’s brother, had brought her several days after it had been written, she bowed her head. Sitting outside in the bad weather under the lamp by the pump, she felt once again the terror that had never totally left her, and that she kept reliving from time to time on nights filled with sleeplessness and nightmares. But this time, instead of getting upset about the incessant buzzing of horror, the real fear of something so palpable as the murder of a whole generation, her own, this time she felt the joy of thankfulness for support, for the hands that had reached out to help her, all through her life but especially during this escape. And, worn out with pain and love, she knelt on the earth underneath the stars in Olpa in the heart of La Rioja, and she kissed the hands of Rococo, who was crying from fear and emotion—his own terror, and perhaps also because this errand was the best thing he had ever done in his whole life. Rococo, the monster, the ugliest and most scorned man in all of Villa 9 de Julio, was now saving another life, in spite of himself , thanks to his gratitude to Doña Amalia del Valle and his affection for her children, who had always treated him with 152 respect, the way their mother had taught them. He also did it out of loyalty to his brother, whose bloody body—abused in every imaginable way, broken and mutilated—he had embraced just a few days previously. He bathed, dressed, and cried over it as if it were Jesus come down from the cross. Then Rococo himself, like a grieving woman, dug the grave for the criminal who had committed no crime. Berta, without saying a single word, took him in her arms andhuggedthatmanwhowouldfortherestofhislifecrytothe only family that had given him what he called his life, that sum of needs. Rococo and ThousandFive had faced life together, through machete action, freezing nights in Matadero, strong wine, blows, and every kind of bloody encounter that could happen in such a place. And now, this guy from whom nobody ever expected anything had taken the place of his brother to bring her a letter that could cost him his life as well as hers— the recipient and the messenger. Neither one of them at that moment was worth much at all. Berta did not cry this time or become paralyzed. This time she suddenly felt that she had wings and could fly because the love of so many people in this insecure world had given her security . She was certain that she would stay alive and one day be able to tell this story. She was sure the day would come when she would cry at the grave of Mr. ThousandFive and hug her mother again. And she knew that she would escape one more time, indeed , every time she had to; that she would escape in order to live and learn whatever skills she needed to survive and do it well; that she would recover from all the misery and would be 153 wide awake; and that something would eventually happen to open up everyone else’s eyes as well. She let that man, the ugliest and saddest in the world, hug her while he cried for all the misfortune of his life, as the night gave way to a new day. When he was able to listen to her and the letter had been destroyed in the fire, Berta told him: “Rococo, you are a great man and I want you to know that you have saved my life.” And she made the sign of the cross with his fingers and kissed them. For Berta that cross was the point where two paths converge: the heavenly one with the earthly one. The man smiled the smile of one who has touched heaven, and then he headed back down the road, taking with him Berta ’s messages to her mother and cheese from the happiest goats in La Rioja, candied grapes, figs, and homemade bread that she gave him for his return journey. Berta woke up her uncle and explained to him that he could no longerdonothingbutsleepbecauseshehadtoleaverightaway. She explained to him that her mother had made it clear that she must go far away, with the...