Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [121]
“It would be lovely,” Elena said, “but sad.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d always look toward where you came from.”
“But I didn’t come from the sea like you did.”
“You’re right, mi amor. I’m being silly. We turn here.”
“Will you tell me stories about the horse with wings?”
“Yes, of course. Tonight I’ll read you the story of Perseus and Pegasus.”
That night she sat on the rocker by his bed and read to him from a thick book of stories about heroes and magical creatures. She stopped at the section where Perseus cuts off the Gorgon’s head and Pegasus rises from her blood. “This might give you nightmares.”
“It won’t. I watched Lucho slaughter pigs and goats. It doesn’t scare me.”
She seemed surprised but continued the marvelous tale to the end. When he had no questions, she listened to his prayers, tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and left the room.
He felt heavy and at the same time light, as if he were floating over the streets of San Juan. The air was clean, the sky bright blue and clear. Below, El Morro fortress with its parapets and cannons faced the vast ocean. He gamboled in the wind, sometimes racing toward the soft green mountains, sometimes dipping to tease a ship with sails like pillows. He dreamed he was Perseus, riding upon Pegasus, battling monsters, saving princesses chained to rocks battered by the sea. But when he woke up he was just a little boy who’d spent the night chasing a dream.
On a bright, cool morning a month before his sixth birthday, Bombón and Elena walked Miguel to don Simón Fernández Leal’s school. Bombón waited outside while Elena brought Miguel inside.
“Ah, here’s young Argoso,” don Simón said. “Buenos días, señorita Elena.” They were the first to arrive. “You sit here,” the teacher said, leading Miguel to a desk in front. “That way I can keep an eye on you.”
It was supposed to be a joke, Miguel thought, because Elena smiled and blushed. Just then chimes struck the hour.
Don Simón grabbed a large bell from his desk. “Thank you for bringing him to my school.” He bowed to Elena, which elicited more blushes on their faces.
“Don Eugenio wouldn’t think of sending him anywhere else,” she said. She stopped before Miguel’s desk and took his face in her fingers. “I’ll come later to take you home.” She kissed him and floated from the room. Bombón waved from the street as she followed Elena. Knowing they’d return made him feel better about being alone while don Simón stepped to the door to ring the bell.
The classroom was once the living room of a private home. Two floor-to-ceiling shutters opened to the street, the lower half barred in ornate wrought iron. Double doors led from the street into a hall leading to a gallery around a courtyard lush with potted plants. Several birdcages dangled from the branches of a ficus tree in the middle of the courtyard, the canaries’ song drowning out some of the sounds coming from the street, chief among them children’s laughter.
The scholars trampled in, some boys a little younger, a few older, but all dressed in crisp cottons, their hair neat, the backs of their necks and ears and their fingernails, like Miguel’s, scrubbed. The older boys took desks in the rear while the younger ones scattered in what looked to Miguel like a predetermined order, which he later learned was by age. They joked, teased, and playfully punched one another as if they were the best of friends. Three of them were brothers, and two of the older boys were cousins. They looked at him curiously.
“I’m Luis José Castañeda Urbina,” the boy who sat next to him said importantly. “And you?”
“Ramón Miguel Inocente Argoso Larragoity Mendoza Cubillas,” he said, nearly running out of breath by the time he reached the final s.
“¡Mi madre!” Luis José said. “I don’t want to be you when el profesor teaches us to write our names.”
There was a tap on his shoulder. Miguel turned around to a pair of hazel eyes, luxurious lashes, and shaggy brows that seemed to belong to a different face from the one they were a part of, whose lower half showed a delicate nose and finely shaped lips.