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Hope and Justice
By
Camincha
LA PIÑATA GREETED Maritza with the sensuous scent of its SPECIAL'S pungent herbs, strong flavors. Soon as she sat down she turned to see Elsa's eyes shining, cheeks flushed that got darker as she talked: He told Rosa, can you imagine, someone telling you...? It gives me goose bumps. This sorcerer is a true
brujo. He told Rosa: Your mother is dying. Go to her right now, Elsa finished the sentence and shivered.
Each of the women had an awesome story to tell. After it was predicted by this fabulous sorcerer: Lina and her husband were a happy couple again. Lina had shouted that her sex life had never been better with her husband and her boyfriend! Flor had received the long awaited and hard-worked-for-raise. Berta's divorce had resolved without a snag on the strength of the sorcerer's predictions. I'm finally rid of that leech, Berta smiling puffed on her cigarette with vengeance, eyes semi-closed, her head pushed back defiantly.
Laura, in the corner of the booth piped in—bringing everyone back to the moment.
Uhmm, these oysters a la Mazatlan are delicious. Do you know they are an aphrodisiac? Pass them 'round. Have you had any, Maritza? she smiled.
Flor nodded joyfully, he's great, this sorcerer, this brujo. And whispered to Maritza, I’ll tell you all about it. I'll take you to dinner next Friday to celebrate my raise. Where you 'been? How is your sex life? Good Looking David?
Maritza reached for her hand and patted it fondly, David and I we aren't, aren't seeing each other... and I’ve had to work a lot of overtime....
Oh! Flor's face filled with circles, under her eyes, around her mouth, but her expression softened when she saw that Maritza's showed strain, sadness. Not good, huh? she sympathized.
No. Very long hours, and turned towards the window that faced West Portal Ave to avoid talking about it. The fog encircled by the street lamp formed an eerie halo in front of the restaurant’s window. Beyond, along the street the small symmetric elm trees lined up evenly spaced, solitary. Their branches seemed to be trying to touch, to close the space, to hug each other....
And before she could stop herself her eyes filled with tears, her face crumpled. Flor took charge. In one swift movement stood up, grabbed her purse and said smiling for all to hear, let's get some fresh air and steered her to the bench on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
MARITZA CRIED ON Flor’s shoulder: At her Annual Review Meeting Project Supervisor had told her, the company isn't doing well. And she knew the other women in her Division were going through the same shit: So no raise.
She had known they were watching her. Her stomach was in a perpetual tight knot. Indigestion the order of the day. And she was always tired. She couldn’t get a full night's sleep anymore. That she wasn’t the only one being pushed around gave her no consolation. That she had just signed the Class Action papers received in the mail which said that hundreds of women in the corporation were in the same situation made her uneasy. What could be the consequences?
At the meeting the lawyers had told them they had nothing to fear. They wouldn’t be fired. But they could receive compensation, money, cash actually. So they filled out all those papers very carefully. I just hope this isn’t a joke Maritza told Colleen as they turned up their coat collars adding scarves to hold out against the cold as soon as they stepped beyond the revolving doors of the Twin Tower’s building. Colleen coming out behind Maritza smiled a comment about San Francisco’s weather in June but it got swallowed by a gust of wind coming from the corner where Beale meets Mission Street.
They continued walking, their heads close together against not only the wind but the noise from traffic and the people that filled the sidewalk. I’m all for it. What do we have to lose? I worked unpaid overtime again, just yesterday. I’m tired. And soooo tired of his jokes about the Irish. His bad imitation of Irish accent and of his, right Ms? Is that right, women want to be called Msss, these days? Msss Mc Gregor? Is that the same as mess? Colleen sighed.
Maritza disgusted: And what about? You know? when he walks around the floor laughing and talking out loud to himself? Calling any on-time estimates, any Labor and Material under-budget worksheets, any balanced Spread Sheets a wet dream come true? Then, lowering her voice, this unfit moron has denied me my raise, Maritza confided in a whisper. She was afraid to hear herself say it out loud. It hurt so.
I don’t believe it. What? Colleen, truly surprised.
That’s what I said too. You know, I would quit but with the recession, no one is hiring. Colleen never heard the last half of that statement, they had reached Front and California and the
Royal Exchange greeted them with their usual goings on, soft music, conversation, laughter, the clinking of glasses and dishes and the delicious scents of its scrumptious cuisine.
WELL,PROJECT SUPERVISOR, turning crimson—which gave Maritza enormous satisfaction. She was that desperate! Under different circumstances she would have just ignored his discomfort. But these days... This company? she pressed on. They both knew that THE COMPANY had just been listed in
Fortune as the MOST successful in the United States of America, that COMPANY? she pressed on.
Project Supervisor stared at the EMPLOYEE REVIEW FORM. Project Supervisor who got his pilot's license so with a group of cronies could all fly to Nevada and spend the weekend at
The Mustang Ranch where they bought what their wives didn't want to put out for them. Friday afternoons everyone could hear Project Supervisor talking to wife, Oh, no, no, my honey. No. No. You know I wouldn't be doing this if not—lowering his voice—if not because the Old Man insists on playing golf there. Can't say no to the boss honey bunny. And when I get back you can tell me all about your weekend shopping with the girls. Love you too. Bye.
So no raise. THE COMPANY couldn't afford it. To shut her up he went on: She made mistakes.
Maritza was mad now. Of course I make mistakes. Only those who never do anything never make mistakes—she had heard someone say that and was delighted it had come to her, rolled out of her mouth at this very moment. Hasn't cost the Company any money, she finished.
Looking suddenly very tired he stared at her over his glasses. He pressed on: She had been late twice.
I did ask permission. Doctor's appointments. I did fill out all the forms. Maritza stopped listening, how does this old man do it? Maybe he doesn't! And the women, so long as they get paid… they are probably glad he can't. Maritza was trying hard not to laugh out loud. Does he call them honey bunny? Honey bunny oh oh oh! Honey bunny open up oh oh oh honey...
What? maybe she had shouted, she didn't think so but he jumped up on his seat. This is ridiculous. What's that he had said, that she had asked for special extension on her vacation?
Maritza didn't even get to finish her question, he was already on: She was away from her desk too often.
Yes, Maritza defiantly. As assistant cost engineer I have to consult with the buyers, engineers.
Well, Project Supervisor searching the page in front of him, in a very low voice: Too many trips to water fountain, bathroom…
She had had enough. So if I'm so bad, how come I just inherited the whole load of Richard's desk?
Richard had been promoted doing half the work she did and with a raise. Sadness invaded Maritza. She remembered feeling like this as a little girl. She remembered as a teenager after her mother died her father's voice.... She remembered her ex.… She stopped listening.
Please, tell me this is going to end. I do need this job. There is a recession going on. If someone could tell me that, tell me when all this is going to end I could find the strength....
PUZZLED SMILES GREETED Maritza and Flor back as the group rearranged themselves to make room for them. Turning to Elsa savoring her
arroz con leche Maritza asked, so this sorcerer, this brujo... ?
Yes. He has the answer. He can tell you. You know how it is for us, Latinas, is something we live with. Elsa continued, encouraging her. We find them,
brujos or brujas, who can predict the future, who can say: You are meeting this wonderful man within a year. Your husband is leaving his girlfriend. Trust the Tarot. Money problems? expect that raise. And in our countries there is one in almost every home, part of the family! They cure with herbs, tell your future with a card reading. Do cleansings, exorcise the demons that persecute us. Well, Elsa laughed.. we can find them right here too. He is a little expensive, twenty-five a session, but well worth it.
THE DAY WAS golden. Maritza thought it a good omen, warm with just a soft ocean breeze to make it perfect. The kind that movies are made of so the world will think, Oh yes, San Francisco in sunny California, always warm, radiant there. The address Elsa had given her was Chestnut near Scott in the Marina. Her imagination raced ahead of her. She decided to take the Cable Car from downtown, make her Tuesday into a holiday. Thinking of The Company, of her Supervisor, she laughed, they tell me I'm so bad already, what do I care? Close to her stop the view of the Bay made an ideal picture, the Golden Gate Bridge, trees, flowers, feminine forms revealed in summer attires and some good looking guys completed the picture.
The sorcerer looked at her from his six plus height with kind smiling green eyes, bright Christmas bulbs blinking at the bottom of the fat folds on his face.
Yes. I'm Paul. I know. Elsa sent you.
Maritza started to pull her hand away, but he held it tight in both of his. They felt like oven mittens right after taking a big hot pie from the oven. His smile broadened. He opened his arms and enveloped her, then turned to lead the way.
Paul was portly. His back covered her view as he guided her into the room Before following him she dropped her twenty-five in the basket that read: DONATIONS.
He handed her a cup of coffee. They sat down on a sofa full of pillows. The flaps folds of his body rearranged themselves as he moved close to her or got up to better express his anger as he listened to her story. But after a while she wasn't just telling him about her negative current work situation, she was confiding in him her most intimate thoughts, yearnings, fears.
You have been under a lot of pressure, his voice low in her ear. You poor baby. Oh, there, relax. His warm, soft hands massaged her shoulders, shoulder blades, her spine. Salty tears ran down her face. Laughter gurgled in her throat. She felt warm like when on a cold winter day
mamacita made her a cup of hot, foamy café con leche. Her toes tingled, the hot steam expanding in her lungs, rising through her nostrils. Slowly the world was being set right. A heavy weight lifted from her. She was walking in a scented garden through soft veils of light.
The Tarot deck of oversized cards he spread on the table in front of them shone with bright reds, greens, gold. Mesmerizing her in a pageant of color. HOPE as signified by images in different cards was triumphant after a struggle. And there was JUSTICE, a card from The Greater Arcana. Imposing, unmistakable in a robe of different tones of gold. The gold of a ripe lemon, of an ancient gold coin, of pungent mustard, of a poppy flower when touched by the sun.
Make yourself comfortable, Paul motioned to Maritza.
Maritza stretched out on the sofa. He placed a pillow under her head. She closed her eyes to better visualize the future events to be brought about on her behalf by HOPE and JUSTICE. Maritza was so relaxed.
He took her hand and never let go.
She didn't mind. Paul was the first man in a long time to offer her HOPE and JUSTICE.
Copyright © 2004 Camincha
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