Fall 2007 / Spring 2008

The New Suit

by Juan Ochoa

“¿Qué irá a pasar?“ Quina sighed as she looked out the window of her adobe kitchen. “Mira a Inez y Julio, cuñada; playing there like two pups. I could swear I was looking at someone else's sons.“

Hortencia stopped kneading dough to peer out the doorway at her nephews frolicking in the patio. “They're just excited about Julio's birthday,“ she said with a tired smile. “Todo el mundo se hace amigos when there's a fiesta.“

“Amigos mis chiches,“ Quina chuckled. “They're content because of where their father is taking Julio after the cena.“

“Sí, cuñada,“ Hortencia's eyes widened. “Mi viejo told me that he is going with Cheto and Julio to Caderyta tonight after we all eat. I don't care what my viejo says, fourteen is just too soon.“ Hortencia sunk her fist into a mound of masa and said, “It must be hard for you to see two sons ya hombres.“

“Julio, you and Inez stay out of the jacal grande; don't even think of touching those clothes with your dirty hands. I'm not going to tell you again,“ Quina scolded her sons from the window then turned to face her sister in law. “It'll be Nico's turn to take your Chemita to dance with those pinche viejas in a couple of months.“

“Don't remind me Cuñada,“ Hortencia sighed. “Let my enjoy my hijito while I can, even if it's just for a couple of months more.“

Quina stoked the coals and greased her comal then started pinching off bits of dough to pat into little cakes called gorditas. Between the grinding of the chocolate and the kneading of the dough there had been numerous breaks to delve into the mysteries surrounding the stupidity of men and their incessant need to search the streets for what they hardly used at home. Hortencia's aid had been a welcomed pause from Quina's ordinarily solitary chores, but now she was starting to feel the pressure of the sun climbing over her kitchen as she thought of the men working the campo and tending the herds on an empty stomach.

“I'm going to send Inez to the fields with Cheto and Nico's lunch,“ Quina said. “Julio can take primo Lucio his lunch down to the river and watch the goats for him while he eats.“

“Oh no, Cuñada, don't do that,“ Hortencia said. “My Chemita and Nicky will be here soon, we'll send them. It would be such a shame to make Julio do errands on his birthday.“

“I'll only wait for as long as it takes me to pack the men their lunch,“ Quina said. “You know how necios men get when they're hungry and want their food.“

Just outside the adobe kitchen, Inez and Julio stopped play wrestling, and stretched out side by side under the shade of a mesquite tree.

“Do you think he'll take me?“ Julio asked, his eyes sparkling brighter than the sun filtering through the mesquite branches.

“He took me last year when I turned fourteen,“ Inez said smiling warmly remembering the night his father took him to Cadereyta to dance in the cantinas. “Parecían cabras, there were women all over the place, standing in doorways, walking up and down the sidewalk, sitting on cars“ Inez rolled over, propping his arm up under his head so that he faced his little brother. “Everywhere you turned you ran into some fancy smelling woman with more plaster on her face than the church in Los Ramones.“

Julio sat up. “But what are they doing in the streets?“

Inez hugged his stomach and began kicking his feet, giggling. “Nothing,“ he said. “I tell you they're out there like a herd of goats just milling around waiting for someone to come round them up.“

Julio giggled too, nervously. “Do they say anything? I mean, can you talk to them? Are they friendly?“

“They chatter and squawk louder than a flock of urracas,“ Inez sat up. “All they do is stagger around, talking to themselves like locas until they run up on someone to hug on and call chulo and guapo.“

“I don't believe that they just start hugging you just like that in the street in front of everybody,“ Julio said. “What if someone's mother saw you or something?“

“Nobody's mother is on the streets of Cadereyta,“ Inez said. “Even the women you see there aren't from Cadereyta, they just come up from Monterey or San Pedro to make money dancing and then they go back home and act like saints.“

“Well, I know they don't dance out in the streets.“

“The drunk ones do,“ Inez said smiling broadly. “Dad will probably take you to tí Julio's place, which will be even better for you because tí Julio will most likely make one of his girls dance with you for free since you're named after him and all.“

“Where did my tí Julio meet all these women?“ Julio asked.

“He didn't meet them,“ Inez said. “Solitas vienen, they just come into his place and line up on the wall waiting for someone to ask them to dance. They have to pay part of what they make to tí Julio,“ Inez scratched his head. “I guess for the electricity it takes to run the jukebox. It's twenty cents for every dance, but tí Julio has the jukebox rigged so the song only lasts a minute and then se chingó el veinte.“ Both boys roared with laughter.

“Twenty cents for only a minute dance,“ Julio said. “It doesn't seem like much of a bargain.“

“Find yourself a tall one and hug her real tight,“ Inez said with a wink. “See where your head goes and then come back and tell me it wasn't worth twenty cents. Besides if you dance five songs in a row for a peso they let you dance an extra song for free, el pilón.“

“And what about when you're dancing?“ Julio ran his nervous fingers through his hair. “What do you talk about when you're dancing?“

Inez thought for a moment. “I spent most of the night apologizing for stepping on their feet,“ he said. “But after a while I figured out if you squeeze them tight enough you don't have to move as much.“

“What if no one wants to dance with me?“ Julio asked anxiously.

“Everybody gets to dance, even Beto el prieto,“ Inez said, starting to get a bit annoyed at his little brother's lack of confidence. “You'll have money.“ Inez tugged at his brother's shirt. “And it's not like you're going in your T-shirt and huaraches.“

Julio's eyes got wide with excitement imagining Beto el prieto, the dark skinned, buck-toothed merchant's son, who was the butt of every ugly joke imaginable, not getting turned down for a dance. If Beto could find a dance partner, Julio thought to himself, he could too, besides in all the talk of viejas and dancing he had forgotten the fact that he would be sporting his new suit that evening. It wouldn't be long before his mother would make him bathe and change into his new conjunto she had bought for him in Monterrey. Julio remembered how his younger siblings, and even Inez, had gasped with envy when his mother tore open the brown wrapping to reveal Julio's new suit. Light blue pleated slacks cuffed at the hem. A matching sky blue guayabera trimmed with embroidered pleats that formed six delicate ridges running down either side, held together and accented with bone colored buttons running down the chest and centered on each of the four pockets. Such fine apparel was seldom seen in Los Ramones aside from the times the county clerks came to town from Caderyta to collect the taxes for the school. Julio pictured himself strutting around his uncle's cantina in his new suit, stopping and extending his hand to some woman who was much taller than him then losing himself in her softness. And this muñequita de porcelana would be so pleased to be dancing with such a finely dressed young man that she wouldn't even notice that he could only do the box step. Julio checked the kitchen window to assure himself that his mother was sufficiently occupied, and was just about to solicit his older brother's aid in sneaking into the armoire where the new clothes were stored when he heard his cousins Chemita and Nicky coming towards their house leading a colt.

“Hola Inez, Feliz cumpleaños Julio,“ Chemita held up the lead rope. “I brought my potrillo so we could ride him before our mothers start serving the merienda.“

“Y qué padre primo,“ Julio said trotting over to greet his cousins.

“At least he'll be doing something other than asking me pendejadas,“ Inez said joining the group. “You should hear Julio primo, ‘Y qué dicen, y cómo bialan.'“

“What do you think I came over for?“ Chemita chuckled. “There's still two months and ten days left before my birthday and my chance to go.“

“Andale Inez,“ Julio teased, “tell us one more time how to conquer women in Caderyta so we can be like you.“

Inez scooped up little Nicky and sat him on the horse and said, “Maybe Nicky and I should ride this harp over to Caderyta and leave you two here to figure things out for yourself.“

“Yo ya conozco,“ Nicky said wiping snot from his nose with his bare hand.

“He's not lying,“ Chemita said. “My Apa took him once when he was in a hurry and Nicky wouldn't get off the truck. Apa says he slept most of the time they were there, but at least he can say he went.“

What did you see, primito?“ Julio asked Nicky.

Nicky bunched his chubby fingers together and exclaimed, “Chingos de viejas.“

“I'm hearing every word you say, Nicolas,“ Hortencia called out from the kitchen.

“No fui yo Ama,“ Nicky said then began to bawl.

Chemita and Julio were rigging a bridle out of the lead rope while Inez made sure Nicky didn't bawl himself off the horse, when their mothers called to them from the kitchen doorway.

“Chemita you need to run the comida out to the men,“ Hortencia said wiping her hands on her apron. “Hurry so you can come back and we can serve the gorditas de harina and chocolate.“

Little Nicky's face broke into a wide smile, “Uhm, I love gorditas.“

“You'll love the skinny ones too once you get older,“ Quina said playfully to her sobrino. “Julio, you need to go and take your bath now para que puedas estrenar tu traje nuevo.“

While Julio enjoyed the warm water and creamy suds his mother had prepared for him, his uncle Lucio paced irritably up and down the banks of the Pesqueria. The sun burning the nape of his neck did little to warm the hungry knot that was tightening in his stomach. Lucio had decided since he had not been brought his lunch, he would not allow any of the cabras he was tending to drink from the river, whacking any goat bold enough to stray towards the watery bank across the back with the 30-30 he carried. Lucio had herded them into a break in the bordo and had been able to contain them there until a few of the more restless goats started finding their way over the flanking ridges. This infuriated Lucio even more causing him to pick up river rocks and hurl them at the bleating strays. But this only frightened the rest of the herd and the goats began pouring out of the makeshift corral in even greater numbers. Lucio ran into what remained of the huddled herd and clubbed a kid goat to its knees. The chivito rose on shaky legs, its incessant bleating annoying Lucio to a higher level of rage. He even went as far as to chamber a round and would have fired on the helpless beast had not the sound of Chemita breaking through the monte with his horse in tow forced him to redirect his irritation.

“Donde chingados has estado?“ Lucio demanded. “You've been goofing off with that pinche caballo instead of bringing me my lunch like you were supposed to, you spoiled little brat.“ Lucio held the rifle in one hand by the breach and waved the barrel under the horse's muzzle, “I've got a good mind to shoot this mule of a horse no mas pa' quitarte lo chiflado.“

“No, don't hurt my horse!“ Chemita yelled dropping the lead rope to seize the 30-30 by the barrel.

The rifle lurched in Lucio's hand with a deafening crack. A finger sized blue-black hole appeared almost simultaneously on Chemita's checkered shirt. Chemita let out a shrilled, “Ay,“ just before his startled eyes slowly closed and he crumbled to the ground. Lucio's lunch landed with a clang at the end of Chemita's limp arm causing tomales to tumble out and mix with the stream of blood that was now running from under Chemita.

Lucio dropped to his knees next to where Chemita laid motionless and pleaded with the boy, “Chemita. Alevantate. It was an accident. Deveras.“

The sun hung just over the tree tops causing the shadows of the tombstones to slither over the mourners gathered around the hole that would be Chemita's final resting place. Julio stood solemnly with a tray of gorditas hoisted up to his chin, silently offering them to those in attendance while Inez poured the chocolate. The mourners accepted the offerings with lugubrious sighs of, “such a tragedy“ and “que desgracia, killed by his own uncle.“ Julio overheard some men talking about how they had to take Lucio to be cured of susto because he kept begging to be taken to his tí the matador para que lo matara. Julio was wondering about which uncle Lucio was talking about and if matadors killed people too when the congregation suddenly parted and the women in attendance let out a collective moan that subsided in stuttered wails as Chemita's open coffin was presented for final viewing before burial. Those standing nearest the casket ceased their lament to take note of the blood dripping from the base of the coffin and started casting menacing glares at the village carpenter, who held up his watch in his own defense and mouthed, “No habí tiempo,“ to the crowd. Hortencia fell silent and focused on the sound of the drops of blood splashing over the broken earth then frantically clutched her ears and wailed, “se me ha muerto el gusto,“ throwing herself onto the casket, knocking it off the wooden saw horses that were sustaining it. At the sight of this, Quina and a few other women let out cries of their own and began to swoon provoking their stone faced husbands to steady them. Once the women were calmed by splashing their faces with rubbing alcohol and the casket righted on the saw horses, the priest began the sermon. Julio balanced the tray he was carrying on a neighboring headstone and made his way through the crowd to the casket and looked inside. Julio saw his cousin's head tilted in death, frail arms crossed gently at the wrist, dainty child hands resting on embroidered ridges running over the breast pockets of a sky blue guayabera doused in crimson. Julio followed the bone colored buttons to the pleated slacks ironed as sharp as razors all the way down to where the cuffs yielded to expose his cousin's calloused bare feet. They bury you like a pendejo, in a new suit and barefoot, Julio realized. Julio allowed himself to look into his primo's expressionless face, as the steady drone of the priest's sermon merged with the wails from the crowd and the incessant sound of the dripping blood from the coffin, and felt ashamed that he couldn't stop his thoughts from returning to the red stain that was spreading all over his new suit. Julio stood there staring down into the casket watching the stain encroach over his new guayabera. He stood there for a long time.

Eight or perhaps ten years later, Julio crossed the dance floor of the cantina heel to toe with his arm locked around the waist of a woman much taller than him. When the couple reached the end of the bar, Julio plopped down on a barstool and whirled the woman around drawing her to him as he buried his face into her chest. He let his finely trimmed mustache whisk over one breast then the other. The woman braced herself on his strong shoulders arching her back as she pushed the eager young man out of her cleavage and said, “Que mañoso eres muchacho.“

“That's a trick my brother Inez taught me.“ Julio fished in the pocket of his sandstone colored conjunto and drew a ten peso coin that he slapped down on the bar and said, “Tell me you don't like it so I can find me another dance partner.“

The woman remained standing close to him eyeing the coin then began fingering the gold embroidery over the breast pockets of Julio's suit, “I just said you were tricky, not that I didn't like it.“ She ran her hands up over Julio's chest and laced her fingers through his dark brown locks and pulled his head towards her swaying her shoulders so that he could dedicate equal attention to either breast.

“Why don't you buy us a drink?“ she asked after pushing him away again.

“Why don't I buy us a lot of drinks?“

“Just make sure you save some money for later.“

Julio let out a grito, “Such a tender girl you turned out to be.“

“I was just saying so you know, we could spend more time together.“

Julio reached for the coin on the bar and began wrapping the counter with it, “Cantinero, bring me something to forget the love I once had for this lady.“

The woman giggled then turned Julio's face back into her dress's plunging neckline. The barkeep approached the couple and began wiping down the counter, “You ready for a tequila Julio or are you going to smooth out your mustache some more.“

“I plan on smoothing out a few things before the night is over,“ Julio said slapping the woman's rump. “That's for thinking I would choose alcohol over you.“

The barkeep poured Julio a double shot of tequila, “Can I get your friend anything.“

Julio slid the ten peso coin across the counter and said, “Get her one of those orange juices you pass off as liquor and tell me when this runs out.“

The cantinero took the coin then returned with a sherry glass filled with orange juice that he placed in front of the woman perched on Julio's knee. The barkeep reached under the counter and produced a poker chip that he handed to the woman who palmed it and turned so she could stuff the chip in her bra.

“I don't even want to know how many fichas you collect in one night mamita.“ Julio winked to the barkeep and said, “I bet she makes more than you.“

The barkeep waited for Julio to down his tequila then began refilling the glass, “This one's on me.“

“Oh?“

“I don't want to spoil your good time or anything, but maybe you can help me with something.“

“I'm starting to believe this is going to be the most expensive shot of the night.“

“It's nothing really,“ the cantinero capped the bottle and pointed to a corner table where Lucio Carrillo sat with his back to the wall, a half empty bottle of mescal separated him from the husky man sitting opposite him. “It's just that your uncle Lucio has been drinking all day with don Emilio.“

“Isn't that what people do in cantinas?'

“Well yeah, but Lucio's been promising to cut Emilio a deal on some goats. Emilio's been buying bottle after bottle and your uncle hasn't budged a peso.“

“Well he shares the same affection I have for this one here with them goats,“ Julio said giving the woman a peck on her neck. “He probably wants to charge Emilio for the sentimental value.“

“If you could just—“

Julio downed the shot of tequila and slammed the glass down on the counter in front of the barkeep, “Put that on my tab and bring my friend here another fake drink and don't forget to give her her ficha.“

The barkeep studied Julio's clenched jaw for a moment then refilled the glass and left to fetch the woman her drink.

The woman stood between Julio's open knees sliding her hands over his shoulders, running her fingers tenderly over the bone colored buttons centered on the breast pockets. “You're a sharp dresser,“ she said. “I like sharp dressers.“

“Mamacita, how'd you like to take me somewhere I can hang my new suit before you wrinkle it up?“ Julio collected his change from the barkeeper and started to make his way across the dance floor with his arm wrapped around the woman's waist. The cantina buzzed with drunken chatter accented with whooping gritos and coquettish giggles until the sound of a crashing table silenced everyone but the juke box. Julio turned to see his uncle Lucio draw a .32 caliber revolver and shout, “Go ahead and try it, you won't be the first one I've sent to another world.“

Lucio's words hit Julio like a thousand bee stings flooding his senses with rage. He didn't see Emilio leveling a .22 at his uncle. He didn't even hear himself scream out his uncle's name. All he could do was focus on the distorted image of his uncle's face turning to see who was rushing at him from the dance floor. Emilio took advantage of the distraction to squeeze off three rounds into Lucio's torso a split second before Julio was able to fill the gap between the two combatants. Lucio teetered and said “Ay sobrino,“ then collapsed in Julio's arms. Julio staggered a half step back under the weight of his uncle's limp body then let Lucio slide to the floor. Some men were overpowering Emilio, wrestling the gun from his raised hand as Emilio yelled, “He drew first, he drew first.“

Julio examined the body lying at his feet and stepped gingerly away to avoid the spreading pool of blood. Julio could hear voices behind him murmuring that he was a brave man to try and step in front of a bullet meant for his uncle. Julio made his way through the gawking crowd to where the woman was standing wide-eyed clutching her cheeks and tried to collect her in his arms but she pushed him away, “No, you'll stain my dress.“

Julio let his hands slide over his chest and stomach. He felt the sticky moistness of his uncle's blood seeping through to his own copper skin. He pulled at his shirt from the waistline and stretched it as far as he could in front of him. He stood there staring at the crimson stain covering his new suit. He stood there like that for a long time.