When a Tree Falls by Beatriz Rivera

Author:Beatriz Rivera
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 2010-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Otilia looked away and repeated, “We were very much in love, and our affair lasted thirteen months.”

Marta’s reply was, “Otilia, it’s already September.” She cleared her throat. “I cannot push the trial off again. First it was March, then I managed to get it pushed to June, and then November. We’re running out of time. I can’t ask for another extension.”

Then it was Otilia’s turn to clear her throat and inspect the back of her hand and stifle a yawn, which made Marta yawn. “The United States vs. Otilia Mancuso,” Otilia said.

September, October, November and Chico’s phone calls became part of her life. She relied on them! She even took it for granted that this was the way it would be until he got his divorce. Once in a while, Otilia would exclaim in utter frustration, “Can’t his wife just leave him alone?” He was hers! For always! They were going to get married and spend the rest of their lives together. Thoughts such as these made a pointless Christmas and a lonely New Year’s Eve bearable. On Christmas Eve, he called to tell her they would be together next year, and she couldn’t wait. She wanted Laura dead. Move over, Laura! He was hers, and she was so glad she had waited so long to find the perfect man—except that he was married. She believed every word he said. She was so glad that he wasn’t playing games with her! Of course he meant every word he said. There was no waiting by the phone for him to call. On the contrary, she could practically set her watch to his phone calls.

Looking back, he had probably programmed his Palm Pilot, and the fancy gadget did the rest. Either that, or his passion for her was quite punctual: it ebbed and flowed at 120-minute intervals. He always said, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” Then they’d talk again in the early afternoon about what they were doing, what they planned to do for the rest of the day, how much they missed each other, and how they wished they were together instead of twelve blocks away from each other. Otilia punctuated that memory by affirming, just as she had done before, “We were very much in love.”

“But sometimes he would stop calling you?” Marta said and asked at the same time.

“That’s right. I hardly heard from him in January 2003, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love me, because he did. Love doesn’t have to last forever. It can last a day or an afternoon or a series of afternoons or thirteen months. Length of time doesn’t always have to be the measure of love. Besides, thirteen months is not that bad. I think he just stopped loving me one day, that’s all.”

In March 2003, when he stopped calling again, it was like pulling a plug, and the theater was dark and empty. She surprised herself, regretting that he hadn’t killed her instead. In a matter of weeks, she

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