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When the deranged rooster crowed a third time, his crowing was cut off mid-squawk. "There, that does it," Miriam said. "No more heralding of a false dawn, no more untruthful messengers."
While Juan Diego tried to comprehend exactly what Miriam had meant--she sounded so authoritative--one dog began to bark; soon other dogs were barking. "Don't hurt the dogs--nothing is their fault," Juan Diego told Miriam. It was what he imagined Lupe would have said. (Here was another New Year, and Juan Diego was still missing his dear sister.)
"No harm will come to the dogs, darling," Miriam murmured.
Now a breeze could be felt through the open seaward windows; Juan Diego thought he could smell the salt water, but he couldn't hear the waves--if there were waves. He only then realized that he could swim in Bohol; there was a beach and a pool at the Encantador. (The good gringo, the inspiration for Juan Diego's trip to the Philippines, had not inspired thoughts of swimming.)
"Tell me how you learned to swim in Iowa," Miriam whispered in his ear; she was straddling him, and he felt himself enter her again. A feeling of such smoothness surrounded him--it was almost like swimming, he thought, before it crossed his mind that Miriam had known what he was thinking.
Yes, it had been a long time ago, but, because of Lupe, Juan Diego knew what it was like to be around a mind reader.
"I swam in an indoor pool, at the University of Iowa," Juan Diego began, a little breathlessly.
"I meant who, darling--I meant who taught you, who took you to the swimming pool," Miriam said softly.
"Oh."
Juan Diego couldn't say their names, not even in the dark.
Senor Eduardo had taught him to swim--this was in the swimming pool in the old Iowa Field House, next to the university hospitals and clinics. Edward Bonshaw, who had left academia to pursue the priesthood, was welcomed back to the English Department at the University of Iowa--"from whence he'd come," Flor was fond of saying, exaggerating her Mexican accent with the whence word.
Flor wasn't a swimmer, but after Juan Diego had learned to swim, she occasionally took him to the pool--it was used by the university faculty and staff, and by their children, and also popular with townies. Senor Eduardo and Juan Diego had loved the old Field House--in the early seventies, before the Carver-Hawkeye Arena was built, most of Iowa's indoor sports took place in the Field House. In addition to swimming there, Edward Bonshaw and Juan Diego went to see the basketball games and the wrestling matches.
Flor had liked the pool but not the old Field H
ouse; there were too many jocks running around, she said. Women took their kids to the pool--women were uneasy around Flor, but they didn't stare at her. Young men couldn't help themselves, Flor always said--young men just stared. Flor was tall and broad-shouldered--six-two and 170 pounds--and although she was small-breasted, she was both very attractive (in a womanly way) and very masculine-looking.
At the pool, Flor wore a one-piece bathing suit, but she was only viewable above her waist. She always wrapped a big towel around her hips; the bottom of her bathing suit was not in view, and Flor never went in the water.
Juan Diego didn't know how Flor managed the dressing and undressing part--this would have happened in the women's locker room. Maybe she never took off the bathing suit? (It never got wet.)
"Don't worry about it," Flor had told the boy. "I'm not showing my junk to anyone but Senor Eduardo."
Not in Iowa City, anyway--as Juan Diego would one day understand. It would one day also be understandable why Flor needed to get away from Iowa--not a lot, just occasionally.
If Brother Pepe had happened to see Flor in Oaxaca, he would write to Juan Diego. "I suppose you and Edward know she's here--'just visiting,' she says. I see her in the usual places--well, I don't mean all the 'usual' places!" was how Pepe would put it.
Pepe meant he'd seen Flor at La China, that gay bar on Bustamante--the one that would become Chinampa. Pepe also saw La Loca at La Coronita, where the clientele was mostly gay and the transvestites were dressed to kill.
Pepe didn't mean that Flor showed up at the whore hotel; it wasn't the Hotel Somega, or being a prostitute, that Flor missed. But where was a person like Flor supposed to go in Iowa City? Flor was a party person--at least occasionally. There was no La China--not to mention no La Coronita--in Iowa City in the seventies and eighties. What was the harm in Flor going back to Oaxaca from time to time?
Brother Pepe wasn't judging her, and apparently, Senor Eduardo had been understanding.
When Juan Diego was leaving Oaxaca, Brother Pepe had blurted out to him: "Don't become one of those Mexicans who--"
Pepe had stopped himself.
"Who what?" Flor had asked Pepe.
"One of those Mexicans who hate Mexico," Pepe managed to say.
"You mean one of those Americans," Flor said.
"Dear boy!" Brother Pepe had exclaimed, hugging Juan Diego to him. "You don't want to become one of those Mexicans who are always coming back, either--the ones who can't stay away," Pepe added.
Flor just stared at Brother Pepe. "What else shouldn't he become?" she asked Pepe. "What other kind of Mexican is forbidden?"
But Pepe had ignored Flor; he'd whispered in Juan Diego's ear. "Dear boy, become who you want to be--just stay in touch!" Pepe pleaded.
