2 Javier
No doubt, he was a ladies man. Woman flocked to him like birds of a feather. He was dark and handsome with honey-colored eyes, and what he lacked in stature he made up with a stride of confidence.
It was a skill he picked up early on in Tierra Blanca. Like most things in his life, he couldn’t afford to waste time being insecure to get what he wanted. It was a survival skill more than an innate trait. He knew modesty would get him nowhere.
The son of a philandering fayuquero and a compliant homemaker, Javier didn’t have many role models. In fact, he didn’t have much of anything. His father often spent all his earning on women and booze, while his mother made excuses and delivered tortillas to locals, so her children could eat. It was her role as a woman. At least that was what she fed her children.
“A man is a man and can’t help being a man. If a woman opens her legs for him, what do you expect for him to do? But a woman, a woman must earn respect.”
It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just the way it was. The man worked hard; the women stayed home; and the children…. Well, the children had to suffer the consequences. But Javier wanted more and that took being creative. He was only a child when he began working as a construction apprentice, carrying bricks to help albaniles. Later he learned he was also good with his fists.
He’d participate in clandestine boxing matches to be able to afford the luxury of school and clothing. With every punch he gave, he released his frustration; with every punch he received, he absorbed a welcomed embrace of pain. But Doña Tina, his mother, put a stop to it. When she found out about his extra-curricular activities, she didn’t waste time. In front of a crowd of spectators Doña Tina grabbed him from the left earlobe and slapped him with her chancla. No amount physical pain could equate that embarrassment.
School was not his salvation. It was too hard to work and strive for more than a middle school education. So, when he was old enough he joined the marines. With wide eyes he traveled the oceans, seeking new adventures. As learned more military skills and moved up the ranks, he gained the respect of his fellow shipmates.
One particular mate, Francisco Santana, grew so fond of him that he invited Javier to a family gathering in Perla del Golfo for the holidays. It was there that Javier met Clara, whose caramel beauty took his breath away for the first time.
Clara and Francisco’s parents were fairly wealthy, they provided their children with all the comforts of life, yet appreciated the values of a good, hard-working man. When Francisco noticed his ranking officer’s interest in his sister, he was more than happy to encourage the relationship.
For her part, Clara valued Javier’s good looks. She enjoyed his company and was encouraged by her parents’ and brother’s esteem for him. The courtship began, dating, an engagement and marriage followed. After all, what else would a woman want than to marry a good man?
It wasn’t enough. She felt pressured to marry him and deceived by his words. When they moved back to Tierra Blanca, she was more than disappointed with the life he was able to provide. There were no toilets, no maids and no luxuries. She had to learn to do laundry and cook on her own for a man she didn’t love. Javier tried his best to give her comforts but again, it wasn’t enough.
Soon, the relationship turned violent. Javier didn’t know how else to express his feeling than through the brute strength of his hands. Her rejection and dissatisfaction were frustrating and hurtful.
Clara’s eyes began to wander. After three years, Clara found an avenue of escape to the misery she’d landed: Wilberto Camarena.
Wilberto was a close friend and entrepreneur. He’d managed to own five nightclubs in Tierra Blanca. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when the two began to meet while Javier worked as police officer.
One night, Javier came home to find her packing.
“Where do you think you are going?”
“My father is sick and I must tend to him.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I shouldn’t be longer than a week?”
But she never did. He searched for her in Perla del Golfo, but no one was able to give him answers. They were as dumbfounded as he was by her disappearance.
Later, rumors surfaced that she left with Wilberto and her family disowned her once they found out.
Javier fell from the sky and onto limbo, purgatory, a maze without an exit, or so it seemed. He was confused. He’d done everything that a gentleman should do in the movies. He gave his all, but his all was not enough.
He worked hard; he put a roof over her head; he provided. He was good man with a good heart. Why wasn’t he good enough for her?
It was hard to continue. Every song, movie and woman reminded him of Clara. He’d lay in bed waiting, hoping for the next knock on the door to be hers. He was lost; so much so that he sometimes would be driving in the opposite direction to where he wanted to go because he couldn’t concentrate on any one thing. But he wouldn’t cry. Los hombres no deben llorar. It was as if a stake was driven through his chest and all the air it contained was sent into the abyss.
Never again, he swore, never again. He would do whatever it took to move up in life and not be poor.
A year later, during a Sunday walk through the Plaza Grande Park, opportunity arose. She came in the shape of a white dress, red, curly hair, snow skin and highly visible limp: Marilyn Mendelson, La Cojita.
