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So he was awake. If not, he wouldn’t have held his breath when she touched him. Anyway, sleeping people do tend to look more natural. Amanda was just making a big effort to keep his eyes shut, tightly wrinkled shut, so she wouldn’t bother him. Teresa could tell. He was on the alert, as if she were an ugly brown bear ready to pounce if he didn’t play dead.

“Are you asleep, love?” she asked, because maybe, just maybe, she was wrong, and he was just hassled, not hassled by her, just hassled.

He groaned, his jaw muscle twitched, he continued faking sleep. Gently, Teresa stroked his chest. Torn between sadness and anger, she tried again.

“Do you still love me?” she asked.

Then she tried again. “Is anything wrong?” Still no response.

“Armando! Armando!” she insisted.

“Huh?” He pretended to be startled.

“Amanda, if you don’t pay attention to me soon, I’ll do something crazy!” she threatened half-jokingly.

Armando let out a fake “huh?” again and continued playing dead.

“Something really crazy,” she insisted.

“African Powers that surround our Savior,” she prayed to herself. ”Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Armando,” she said out loud. “African Powers that surround our Savior,” she repeated to herself.

It wasn’t that Teresa really believed in Santería. In any case, that’s what she said. The main argument was that she lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan where there were gourmet delis instead of live poultry markets and those religious stores called Botánicas. And it had been years since she’d belonged to the old neighborhood. Santería was simply her private game, the way she liked to pray when she really wanted something.

“African Powers that surround our Savior: Eleggua, Ogún, Obatalá, Shangó, Yemayá, Oshún, Orula, Babalú Ayé. I want pleasure! And I want it right away!”

Immediately, the cat jumped on the bed and started walking all over her, demanding to be fed. And since Teresa did summon the African Powers, they came.

Babalú Ayé was the first. He emerged from the corn, in a foul mood because Teresa had summoned him last. And besides, he didn’t like her tone of voice; it was too arrogant. He waited for Eleggua to creep out from underneath the sugar bowl where he lived, then started saying mean things about Teresa. Why did she have a cat instead of a dog, for instance. Babalú loved dogs; they had soft tongues. And since Babalú’s body was covered with open wounds, a cat’s rough tongue just wouldn’t do. And wasn’t Teresa the one who had once said that she’d always have everything she wanted? Well, she never did get Armando to marry her, even if Eleggua was bent over backwards for her. Eleggua had always opened all roads for Teresa, but Babalú said he wasn’t in the least bit impressed. He made fun of Teresa for having written Hispanic on every single dotted line and managed to get into top universities, top law firms, and top floors. “But even if she’s a partner and real successful and making lots of money, Armando still won’t marry her!” Babalú bragged. “Who cares if they’ve even nicknamed her the Doberman for defending South American interests so well here in North America?! Eleggua, are you listening?” No, he wasn’t. Eleggua smelled leftover chicken in the refrigerator and was dying to eat it. That’s why he made the cat heavier, louder, more insistent.

“Why don’t you go and feed that cat?” moaned Armando.

“OK, OK, patience, Gato, sweetness, love cat, wait, I’ll feed you,” Teresa said. Wobbly, she got out of bed, stretched her back and slipped into a robe. “Yes, sweetness, kitten, last night’s chicken, you want that?”

The spice rack trembled in the kitchen and out of the pepper jumped Orula, the clairvoyant. Then the bloodthirsty Ogún crawled out of the rosemary, and the feminine Yemayá flew out of the cilantro. Shangó, who loves fire, came from the bay leaves, and the virile warrior Obatalá from the marjoram. Babalú Aye kept asking everyone if they didn’t find it shocking that Teresa had summoned him last. “What nerve she has!”

“Yes, Gato, sweet cat, and you want to eat on the window sill? I’ll open the window for you, yes. It’s a beautiful day today, bright and sunny. Now will you let me go back to bed? Cat, I’m begging!”

Back in the bedroom, Teresa slipped out of her robe and crawled back into bed. She snuggled close to Armando and gently caressed his stomach and thighs and chest. “Do you still love me?” she whispered in his ear. Teresa loved being in bed with him, so close to him. Moments such as these seemed rare even if they’d been together for fourteen years. Most of the time, they were either on business trips or on a very tight schedule. Today, Teresa was so glad that neither of them was rushing off to work or to the airport. She kept snuggling closer and closer to him, wanting him more than anything in the world. But he didn’t seem interested. “African Powers, did you hear me?!” That’s when, from Teresa’s gold jewelry, rose the beautiful party-loving Oshún with a bad case of the giggles. Laughing hard, she asked, “Where’s my sister Yemayá?”

“Looking for her husband Orula, as usual,” replied Shangó, who had tried to rape Oshún the night before. “What about a once-a-week affair?” Shangó suggested to Oshún. “It would do us both good,” he insisted. “Don’t cut me, I was just kidding! Look at Orula following Eleggua, his best ally, around. They’ve already circled the cat ten times!”

Life should have gotten easier, but it just hadn’t. In the past few months Teresa had barely seen Armando. Ever since February, she’d spent every single weekend alone, and now it was spring. Unwillingly, for the memory came all by itself, or with the fur that the cat had left on the bed, Teresa thought of the cat’s age, fourteen years, and how she’d found that kitten out in the street the day they were moving in together. She was twenty years old, a paralegal in Armando’s law firm, applying to law schools. She was doing well in college and had taken so many extra-credit courses that she was almost ready to graduate. And Amanda had just become a junior partner. He was thirty. Ten years older. They were supposed to live together, then get married, have babies, and be successful. Eleggua took his eyes off the chicken for a minute and bragged that he was the one who had opened all roads for Teresa. Well, they’d gotten the successful part right, and the living together part right, and she’d told her parents that they had eloped, for her parents would have had a fit if they had known that she was simply living with him. Then once her parents got over the shock of her supposedly eloping, they were quite proud of their daughter having found an upper-crust Cuban, or a “country club” Cuban as her father used to say. That meant that he would have belonged to one of the Havana country clubs if Castro hadn’t come along. “I only got to see the inside of those clubs when I got jobs cleaning toilets there!” José Bos added, proud that his daughter Teresa had married into the “cream” of Cuba.

Armando was so attracted to her then. And even if his family didn’t quite approve because no matter how successful and intelligent she was they always saw her as a lower-class Jersey City, New Jersey, Cuban girl whose family owned a laundromat, Armando said he didn’t care, he adored her, he couldn’t take his hands off her.

Oh, she loved Armando so much! “Te quiero,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you. I adore you,” she kept repeating while caressing his thigh, happy that they had a whole weekend together. She’d been looking forward to it. A month ago, he’d told her to reserve this weekend so they could be together, and talk. What about? Marriage? Love? Suddenly she remembered. “What are we supposed to talk about this weekend, Armando?”

He was still pretending to be asleep. Teresa kissed his neck and got a whiff of the past again. That time, they had broken up because he’d met someone else and had even wanted to marry that fulanita. And she started seeing other men. And he had said he could never marry her. His parents would never forgive him. His sister would never forgive him. His aunts would never forgive him. Not that they had anything against her personally. Couldn’t she put herself in his place? What if she brought someone home to meet her parents and that person just didn’t pass? You know… That person
could be a very nice person, and it’s not that they’d have anything against that person, they just wouldn’t want that person to be part of the family. So it was with his parents. Teresa just wasn’t… What did they say? Of their class. His family was so hung up on class, and so was Armando, although he pretended not to be so. So they’d broken up, and she started seeing other men. But then he couldn’t stand the thought of her being with other men, so they’d gotten back together again. He still hadn’t married her though, probably because she just didn’t have that blue blood. And he was always inventing fresh new excuses for not marrying her. It was O.K. She never even nagged him about it. “Don’t search for an excuse!” she’d say. “Just promise we’ll always be together,” she’d laugh.

“Teresita, mi amor, this is serious. I want you to understand,” he’d insist. “I just don’t believe in marriage,” he’d try to explain with a guilty look on his face.

“Armando, all I want is to be with you forever!”

She believed him and respected his decision. After all, they’d been together for fourteen years. In the kitchen, Babalú was pouring sesame seeds on the floor so Teresa would die of gangrene.

“I love you wildly,” Teresa murmured again. “And I want you.”

Yemayá decided, since it was Saturday, her day, that she’d make Armando have a stomachache. Suddenly, Armando opened his eyes and looked at his watch.

“You don’t have any commitments today, do you?” Teresa asked.

“No, just a phone call,” he replied. “Will you bring me an Alka-Seltzer, Terry, mi amor?”

That’s when Yemayá yelled, “He’s got the stomachache!!”

And right after that, the party-and-laughter-loving Oshún, who was blowing the sesame seeds away, cried out, “I’ll get his genitals! I love his genitals!”

Oshún was giggling even harder now because she’d destroyed Babalú’s jinx and had gotten rid of every single sesame seed.

“Do you want her to hemorrhage?” asked Ogún, who smelled of rosemary.

“She summoned me last!” Babalú replied. “Last! And I’m not one to be joked with,” he added.

“Of course I’ll get you Alka-Seltzer. You just stay right there. Don’t go away!” Teresa answered Armando.

When Teresa returned with the Alka-Seltzer, Armando had his hand on the telephone receiver and an embarrassed look on his face.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked.

“Huh? What? Coffee? Oh, sure!” he said, and took his hand off the receiver because Shangó had made it too hot.

“I feel like burning him,” said Shangó.

“And I’ll cut him,” Ogún added.

“Get Eleggua in here, tell him to slam some doors, Teresa doesn’t even realize we’re here!” yelled Shangó. “Oshún, Sagrada Puta, why are you on her side?”

“Armando, every time I ask you a question you look so embarrassed!” said Teresa.

“Huh?” was his reaction, and then he looked at his watch again and gulped the Alka-Seltzer down and said, “Thank you for the Alka-Seltzer, mi amor, of course I’d like coffee. This phone call will only take five minutes. Please don’t come into the bedroom while I’m talking; you’ll just distract me, O.K?”

“I love you, Armando,” Teresa said.

“I love you, too. Now let me make this phone call, and then I’ll be all yours.”

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and the kitchen window was wide open, and the cat was on the sill eating slowly. This was his favorite spot. It seemed awfully high and dangerous, but cats don’t fall. While preparing the coffee, Teresa was loudly singing some boleros.

“Shut that woman up!” Babalú cried out.

“The cat’s eating all the chicken!” Orula said to Eleggua.

“I’ll help you push him out the window!” said Ogún.

Teresa kept singing loudly.

“And I’ll help, too,” volunteered Babalú.

“Oh, my God!” Teresa interrupted her singing and yelled all of a sudden.

“We pushed gato!” Babalú yelled.

“OhmyGodmyGodmyGod!” Teresa yelled again. “No, it was an optical illusion! African Powers, tell me it was an optical illusion!” She ran to the window and looked down. They were nine floors up, so she couldn’t see anything… “OhMyGodOhMyGod,” she repeated. “Gato! Gato!!” she began calling for the cat. Had he really fallen out the window? “OhMyGod, did this happen?!”

A few minutes later, while Teresa was still calling the cat, the super buzzed her from downstairs to tell her that poor Gato seemed to have fallen out the window and was dead on the sidewalk, but that he was completely intact, if that was any consolation. Teresa said she’d be right down then ran to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, then burst into the bedroom to get a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Armando was sitting up in bed, whispering into the receiver, smiling. When he saw her, his expression changed suddenly; he seemed ashamed of himself. But it probably wasn’t shame, just anger because she was disturbing him when he’d told her not to come into the bedroom while he was on the phone. For a minute the thought crossed Teresa’s mind that she was getting her signals crossed with Armando’s facial expressions. But how could that happen after all these years? she wondered, and at the same time ordered the elevator to hurry. Didn’t she know him by heart? Was she reading sex-guilt where there was simply minor irritation due to stress and overwork? But he looked so guilty! And how can you look sex-guilty when you’re on the phone talking business?

Teresa was about to really start wondering what was going on when Orula, the clairvoyant, blew the thought away. “Don’t let her be prepared for this day!”

The super gave Teresa that warm bundle in a blanket and held the elevator open for her.

Back in the apartment, Teresa wiped the tears off her face with her cuff and called Armando. But he was under the shower.

In the kitchen, Eleggua was stuffing himself with chicken. Teresa put the bundle on one of the chairs then sat down, put her head in her hands, and waited for Armando.

And she must’ve fallen asleep, maybe for ten minutes, but it seemed so long, he startled her by saying loudly, “Where’d you disappear to?”

“Were you asleep?” he asked. “Where’s my coffee? Never mind, I’ll get it. God, did I ever cut myself shaving!”

“Armando, the cat fell out the window,” she said, and pointed to the bundle on the kitchen chair. “I ran downstairs to get him while you were on the phone.”

Armando seemed quite upset. He said he loved that cat, they’d had him for such a long time. Teresa wondered what they should do with him now. Call the ASPCA? Armando suggested they bury him. He’s the one who insisted, and yes, she was definitely getting her signals crossed, for he looked sex-guilty even when he said they should take the car and find somewhere in the suburbs to bury that poor cat. Yes, and they’d stop at some hardware store to buy a shovel. They didn’t even have to go that far. Riverdale, for example. Or Fort Lee, New Jersey. Or even Englewood; they had woods there. Someplace like that. They’d had this cat for so long that he certainly deserved a decent burial. “Don’t you think so, Teresita, mi amor?” Armando seemed so ashamed of himself!

“Did you hear that?” asked Eleggua with his mouth full. “They’re taking us for a ride! Put your best clothes on! And that goes for everyone!”

After Teresa showered, they consulted the map of the New York area and vicinity. The African Powers were all ready to go. Teresa kept repeating that they couldn’t bury the cat in a public park or someplace like that. Armando assured her that they’d find some vacant, woodsy land.

“Certainly not in The Bronx!” Teresa said. “You’re pointing to it!”

“Well, further north, like here, Dobbs Ferry. There seems to be a golf course here.”

“So. we’re going to bury the cat in a golf course now?”

“Well, what about here? Near Nyack College, see? There’s green there. Oh, no, that’s a golf course, too. We need some government land where we’re sure they won’t disturb the grave. Look, anywhere where it says national recreation, that’ll never be touched. What about Robert Moses State Park here? And they even have a bird sanctuary.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to stop and dig a hole there?” Teresa asked.

“Sure! It’s probably deserted. So, we’ll take the Triborough to Grand Central Parkway. Then, hold it, page 69, yeah, Northern Boulevard—or is that Northern State? Think they’re the same thing? Can you read what it says there?”

“Sagtikos State. Let’s just go, Armando!”

Now they both looked guilty with that baby-sized bundle in the back seat. “God, this weekend’s turning into a funeral,” Teresa commented.

They drove in silence for a while with a dead cat and all those African Powers. It wasn’t until they were crossing the Triborough Bridge that the party-loving Oshún, the only one of the African Powers that wasn’t asleep, made Teresa ask, “What’s this about your parents coming to New York next weekend?”

“Oh. How’d you find out about that?”

“Your mother left a message on the answering machine. While you were listening to it, I overheard. What’s she so happy about? She said she was so happy, remember? Do I have some incurable disease I don’t know about?”

“Now, Terry, watch that tongue of yours. My mother happens to like you. It’s nothing personal; she just wants the best for me, that’s all. And she thinks you and I are too different.”

“So should I make dinner for them?” Teresa asked.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see them, so I didn’t plan anything. Just forget about it.”

“Of course I want to see them! This cold war with your family is really getting to me! They pretend I don’t exist! It wasn’t my fault I was raised in Jersey City!”

“Let’s just drop the subject, Terry, mi amor. O.K?”

“Do I hear conflict?” groaned Obatalá. “Nah! These two have never known how to have a good fight.”

“Go back to sleep, Obatalá. We’re not there yet. Is that Kentucky Fried Chicken I see?” asked Eleggua. “Hey, Armando, cabrón. It’s Kentucky Fried Chicken, stop!”

Again, they drove in silence for a good part of the way. Once in a while Armando would shoot a sideway glance at Teresa and act as if he were ready to say something, but then he’d remain quiet.

“There it is.” Teresa broke the silence. “Sagtikos. That should lead us straight to Captree State Park; it’s written in green here on the map. I hope it’s not a golf course. No, because then there’s a little gray road to Robert Moses. Armando, we forgot to buy the shovel!”

“We’ll stop somewhere around here.”

“Kentucky Fried Chicken!” yelled Eleggua. “Stop! Armando, cabrón! Damn! Missed it again! Goin’ to crawl into this dead cat and eat whatever chicken’s in there!”

A quarter of an hour later Armando parked the car in front of a hardware store and said he’d be right back.

“We’re here!” yelled Shangó.

“Great! Let me go work on the tire,” said Obatalá, “I’m gonna slash it.”

“And, Armando,” Teresa yelled to him. “Maybe you could buy a box? You know, to put him in? We can’t just bury him without a little coffin, can we?”

“Ssssh! Terry, mi amor. Someone’s going to hear us!”

Soon he was back with a shovel and a box of 24 tall kitchen bags, saying that this was the best he could do. “What do you know, we have a flat tire,” he noticed.

*  *  *  *  *

“Oh. By the way, I’ll be in Virginia next weekend. For a golf seminar,” Armando said after they’d finally gotten someone to change the tire and were backing out of the parking space.

“But your parents are coming next weekend!”

“Well, they’ll meet me in Virginia. At the golf club. There! See the sign? This should lead us straight there. There sure is a lot of traffic. I thought we’d be all by ourselves, but maybe once we get there. This is probably just local traffic. It can’t be people going to the park, can it? So once we get there, I stay in the car, you get off, look for a place, then come back for the shovel. And if anything happens, I’ll honk. If you hear me honking, you hide the shovel someplace and come back to the car.”

“So you’re meeting them in your club in Virginia and leaving me behind.”

“I just wanted to spare you the trouble.”

“How considerate of you, Armando. So I’m the one who’s supposed to dig the grave?”

“Yeah, then I’ll go with the cat while you watch the car, and I’ll bury him. This’ll be all over in no time.”

“Boy, what team work!”

When they finally reached Captree State Park, they drove around until they found a place on the side of the road to idle the car. Then they proceeded with the plan. But no sooner had Teresa gotten out of the car and disappeared into the bushes, when a policeman stopped next to their car. “The police is here!” screamed Yemayá. “Run for your lives!”

“It’s O.K. They’re not illegals. Should we get this cabrón arrested? No way! He has to break the news to her. I’m the one who organized this traffic jam. If not, he’ll never tell her. He’s a coward. He’ll leave her in the dark. At least sixteen more years. Until she’s fifty. No! She has to find out.”

The officer asked Armando if everything was all right. Armando replied that yes, everything was fine, that it was a beautiful day and that his wife had simply gone into the bushes for a minute, ha ha! Oh, yes, she’d be right back. Oh, yes, absolutely. Armando said that he understood that it was illegal to stop your car anywhere around here, except in designated areas. Of course, he knew all that. Yes, and they weren’t supposed to disturb the wildlife or the plants or litter or drink alcoholic beverages. Yes, he undersde perfectly. As a matter of fact, Babalú told Armando that he had nothing to feel guilty about since he’d never done any of those things. Never broken the law. He was a perfect citizen. Never littered in a state park. Never thrown litter anywhere at all. Never let a dog off a leash. What he’d done wasn’t even prohibited in a state park, imagine that! And state parks sure have a lot of rules. Not illegal anywhere around here. Might as well take this lightly. Who cares about Teresa. She wasn’t a broken rule, was she?

It happened three times. Whenever they stopped somewhere to inspect if the ground was fit for burial, a policeman would appear out of nowhere and ask if everything was all right. Maybe Long Island wasn’t such a good idea after all. So, they both voted for the Jamaica Bay wildlife refuge in Queens. “If they’re going to Queens, I’m staying in Queens,” said Obatalá. “Some people are throwing a big party for me there so I’ll get them a green card.”

Again, Armando opened the map book to page 69. “So, let’s take 27 all the way to…oh, 27 turns orange here. In any case, all the way to this blue highway here near Kennedy, then take this orange one. Hold it, page 65. Yeah, the orange one’s Cross Bay Boulevard, and we’re sure to find a place in Queens. As a matter of fact, we should’ve gone straight there.”

Right when 27 turned orange, Armando finally blurted out, “Terry, mi amor, I have something to tell you. You know how much I love you and how devoted I am to you. But I can’t marry you.”

“Well, I’ve known for years that you won’t marry me, and now you can’t…The terminology seems to have changed.”

“O.K., everybody sit back,” ordered Shangó. “And I don’t want to hear a peep out of anyone!”

“Well,” he hesitated. “First I really want you to know how devoted I am to you, but you know I’ve always had my dreams and ambitions, just like you, which is normal. Don’t you think it normal? I mean, for a while I tried to fight it, but my principles seem to be so deeply imbedded in me that surely, but surely, I’m coming to the conclusion that they’ll always be there, kind of. Well, not kind of, and the dreams and ambitions, too. I mean, you just can’t negate the principles you’ve been brought up with. Do you follow me?”

“No,” replied Teresa.

“O.K., so let’s try to reward this. For example, I’ve never told you this, but my axiom was that the day I’d get engaged—and don’t take this personally, Terry, mi amor, it has nothing to do with you, it’s a matter of silly deep-rooted principles—anyway, my axiom was that the day I’d get engaged, my future father-in-law would take me to a very exclusive golf club and that we’d spend the day together playing golf and talking business. Now, I’ve never told you this, but I’ve told it to other people and they’ve understood, so please make an effort, Terry, love. Now, you know, José, your father, he’s a great guy, you know how much I like him, but he’s been working in that laundromat all his life.”

“Oh, no, not all his life,” said Teresa. “Before that he was a plasterer, but he could paint, too. That was when my mother was a maid. But if you’re hung up on fancy clubs, he used to go to one every single day. Ask him if you don’t believe me. The toilets there needed cleaning every single day. Sorry to interrupt you, go on.”

“Somehow, I knew you wouldn’t take this well. But anyway, Jose, your father, God bless him, for he’s a good man, has had this kind of very limited existence. You yourself admit it. You know, for him talking about the economy means comparing Goya beans to Kirby beans and debating whether the frozen tamale or the frozen croquette businesses will thrive. And his world is just so limited to Jersey City. Not that I have anything against Jersey City; you were raised there and look how well you turned out. But do you follow me?”

“Yes, she’s beginning to get the drift,” said Yemayá.

“I’m staying here in Queens, guys,” said Obatalá. “This woman’s got no blood in her veins. After what he told her! And she hasn’t even cut him!”

“Me, too, I’m getting off,” said Ogún.

“This is like the end of a bullfight,” snickered Babalú. “And with a very polite bull.”

“Cut it out, she’s a sweet girl,” said Eleggua.

They didn’t have any luck at the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge either. So they took the Rockaway Freeway, crossed the Marine Parkway Bridge, and took the Shore Parkway. Armando and Teresa also crossed the Verazano Narrows Bridge, got lost in Staten Island, then wondered if they’d have any luck finding a place to bury the cat in New Jersey. The Bayonne Bridge took them straight into Bayonne and they thought they’d never get out of there. Night fell when they were driving around in North Bergen. There seemed to be no place in the world to bury a fourteen-year-old cat who had fallen out the window that very same morning so long ago when Teresa still thought that she’d spend the rest of her life with Armando.

“Or maybe we should try to bury him in a golf course after all,” Teresa said once they had given up and were at the Tappan Zee Bridge toll.

“But that’s not all I had to say to you, Terry, mi amor. Something happened last weekend. Or let’s say that it happened last weekend. I got engaged, and I went to play golf, with her father. That’s the reason my mother called, so happy.”

That’s when Shangó unsheathed his sword and Yemayá started running all over the world looking for another man for Teresa.

“Chicken wings! That place has takeoout chicken wings!” said Eleggua.

It was a little before ten pm. when they arrived home having found no place to bury the cat.

In the elevator, holding the dead bundle in his arms, Armando shot a sideway glance at Teresa. The beautiful, giggling, party-loving Oshún, who loved Armando’s genitals so much, had just reminded him that Teresa would probably find someone else soon. It made Oshún laugh so hard to notice that she’d just put lust and jealousy in his body.

She said, “I am having the time of my life!”

Teresa wiped a tear off her face. Then it was her turn to glance at Armando. She was holding a bucket of extra-spicy chicken wings in her arms. Eleggua was sitting on top of it. He was all excited. “African Powers that surround our Savior,” Teresa prayed. “Babalú Ayé, Oshún, Eleggua, Orula, Ogún, Shangó, Yemayá, Obatalá, help me get over this man.”

“She summoned me first, did you hear that?!”