Read Online The Empty Trap by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online
Authors: John D. MacDonald
Ads: Link
a man for one year and then a friend of the ones you killed kills you. Possible, also?”
“Yes.”
“And you say it is of no meaning. But what of that year of walking like a man, Lloydito? Is that of no meaning? Estupido! If it were a month only. Or a week. Or even a moment. Then is not that a moment of truth?”
“I do not know.”
“You do not know! I will tell you one thing. What if you have said it in your mind, I will not go and kill them? What if you have said it in your mind it is a matter too difficult and too dangerous. I live. I am lucky. I will forget them and I will live. Then what are you? An animal who hides in a small place. Can you walk on your legs? Can you look at a woman? Can you drink with men and laugh with men? No! There is the look of fear. There is the apology to everyone. Now you are a man because you know what is necessary for you to do and you know you will do it. It is a satisfaction in you. I tell you this thing. You live now because it was that necessary thing in your mind to give you strength. Do you not see strength here, with my people? What would happen to us if we say we have too much fear,we will never go back? Would we fight to live in this difficult place? No. We would all of us, sneak away. To strange villages far away, with doctors and schools and churches, and we would be strangers there. Never could we look into the eyes of another. Our men would be castrated by fear. Our women could take no pride in sons. It is a thing of living. It is a thing of honor. It is a thing to be understood, Lloydito.” She hiccuped and said, “Lo siento mucho, pero creo ’stoy borracha también.”
“I think I understand.”
“There is a thing in a book, but it was long ago and I do not say it right. It is perhaps changed. I say it this way. For a man he must die on his feet because if he lives on his knees he is not a man. I have two bloods.”
“I do not understand.”
“Two bloods. De España y de las Aztecas. I know the history. Not much. I am ignorant. But I know this thing, Lloydito. The Spaniards were men, men in armor who came on little wooden ships from a far place and fought and won this country from many thousands of Indians. The Indians were brave and cruel and had much civilization, but not the things of war. So the two bloods are here, in me. With those two bloods, we have made ourselves free, just like your country. On each side the men were mucho hombre. On each side much honor and bravery, not so much with leaders, but with the little men. Now I will dance again. You think. In a little time I will bring more for the cup, no?”
He watched her dance with big-chested Roberto, her skirt swirling, braids snapping. She had kicked off her sandals and her bare feet stamped the floor in time to Rosario’s guitar while the watchers clapped and snapped their fingers in a complicated flamenca rhythm.
Two bloods, he thought. Just a trace of the Spanish in the suggestion of the oval in her face, the hint of a hollowness in the cheeks, a slight arch to the black brows. She was the color of a penny. Not the fresh minted copper, but an old penny, paled into a fingered gold. Two bloods, and a code of blood. The sand of Mexico had quickly soaked up the steaming blood of honor for manyyears. A land of pride and of quick violence without mercy. Also a land of sullenness and the glorification of death. A land where they ate candy skulls, where brass marched in the funerals of children, where fireworks exploded under church pews on Christmas morning, a land where a baker from Monterrey, a bullfighter of neither nerve, grace nor talent, can finally achieve his goal of performing in the Plaza Mexico and filling its fifty-five thousand seats by a public proclamation of his intention to permit his first bull to kill him.
Though he was slightly drunk, his mind was working with a curious clarity, and he knew that in no other way could he have come as close to these people so quickly, could he
“Yes.”
“And you say it is of no meaning. But what of that year of walking like a man, Lloydito? Is that of no meaning? Estupido! If it were a month only. Or a week. Or even a moment. Then is not that a moment of truth?”
“I do not know.”
“You do not know! I will tell you one thing. What if you have said it in your mind, I will not go and kill them? What if you have said it in your mind it is a matter too difficult and too dangerous. I live. I am lucky. I will forget them and I will live. Then what are you? An animal who hides in a small place. Can you walk on your legs? Can you look at a woman? Can you drink with men and laugh with men? No! There is the look of fear. There is the apology to everyone. Now you are a man because you know what is necessary for you to do and you know you will do it. It is a satisfaction in you. I tell you this thing. You live now because it was that necessary thing in your mind to give you strength. Do you not see strength here, with my people? What would happen to us if we say we have too much fear,we will never go back? Would we fight to live in this difficult place? No. We would all of us, sneak away. To strange villages far away, with doctors and schools and churches, and we would be strangers there. Never could we look into the eyes of another. Our men would be castrated by fear. Our women could take no pride in sons. It is a thing of living. It is a thing of honor. It is a thing to be understood, Lloydito.” She hiccuped and said, “Lo siento mucho, pero creo ’stoy borracha también.”
“I think I understand.”
“There is a thing in a book, but it was long ago and I do not say it right. It is perhaps changed. I say it this way. For a man he must die on his feet because if he lives on his knees he is not a man. I have two bloods.”
“I do not understand.”
“Two bloods. De España y de las Aztecas. I know the history. Not much. I am ignorant. But I know this thing, Lloydito. The Spaniards were men, men in armor who came on little wooden ships from a far place and fought and won this country from many thousands of Indians. The Indians were brave and cruel and had much civilization, but not the things of war. So the two bloods are here, in me. With those two bloods, we have made ourselves free, just like your country. On each side the men were mucho hombre. On each side much honor and bravery, not so much with leaders, but with the little men. Now I will dance again. You think. In a little time I will bring more for the cup, no?”
He watched her dance with big-chested Roberto, her skirt swirling, braids snapping. She had kicked off her sandals and her bare feet stamped the floor in time to Rosario’s guitar while the watchers clapped and snapped their fingers in a complicated flamenca rhythm.
Two bloods, he thought. Just a trace of the Spanish in the suggestion of the oval in her face, the hint of a hollowness in the cheeks, a slight arch to the black brows. She was the color of a penny. Not the fresh minted copper, but an old penny, paled into a fingered gold. Two bloods, and a code of blood. The sand of Mexico had quickly soaked up the steaming blood of honor for manyyears. A land of pride and of quick violence without mercy. Also a land of sullenness and the glorification of death. A land where they ate candy skulls, where brass marched in the funerals of children, where fireworks exploded under church pews on Christmas morning, a land where a baker from Monterrey, a bullfighter of neither nerve, grace nor talent, can finally achieve his goal of performing in the Plaza Mexico and filling its fifty-five thousand seats by a public proclamation of his intention to permit his first bull to kill him.
Though he was slightly drunk, his mind was working with a curious clarity, and he knew that in no other way could he have come as close to these people so quickly, could he
Similar Books
