Eager to hear what Delia had totell me about her friends, I went to Tucson on my way to Los Angeles.  

In Tucson I arrived at the coffeeshop in the late afternoon.  

An old man directed me to anempty space in the parking lot.  

Only when he opened my door did Irealize who it was.  

"Mariano Aureliano!" Iexclaimed. "What a surprise. I'm so glad to see you. What are you doinghere?"  

"I was waiting foryou," he said. "So my friend and I saved this space foryou."  

I caught a glimpse of a burlyIndian driving an old red pickup truck: He had pulled out of the parking spaceas I drove into the lot.  

"I'm afraid Delia couldn'tmake it," Mariano Aureliano said apologetically. "She had to leavefor Oaxaca unexpectedly."  

He smiled broadly and added,"I'm here on her behalf. I hope I fit the bill."  

"You've no idea howdelighted I am to see you," I said truthfully.  

I was convinced that he, betterthan Delia, would help me make sense of all that had happened to me during thepast few days.  

"Esperanza explained to methat I was in some sort of a trance when I met all of you," I added.  

"Did she say that?" heasked almost absentmindedly.  

His voice, his attitude, and hiswhole demeanor was so different from what I remembered, that I kept staring athim hoping to discover what had changed.

His fiercely chiseled face hadlost all its fierceness.  

I was busy with my own turmoil,however, and didn't give his change any more thought.  

"Esperanza left me alone inthe house," I went on:  

"She and all the women wentaway without even saying good-bye to me.

"But I wasn'tdisturbed," I hastened to point out:

"Although I'm usually veryput out when people are not courteous."

"Oh really!" heexclaimed, as if I had said something extremely meaningful.  

Afraid that he might take offenseat what I was saying about his companions, I immediately started to explainthat I hadn't really meant to say that Esperanza and the others had beenunfriendly. "Quite the contrary, they were most gracious and kind," Iassured him.  

I was about to reveal whatEsperanza had told me, but his steady gaze stopped me.  

It wasn't an angry stare or athreatening one: It was a piercing look that cut through all my defenses.  

I had the certainty he was seeingright into the mess that my mind was.  

I glanced away to hide mynervousness then told him in a light, almost joking tone that it hadn't reallymattered to me that I had been left alone in the house. "I was intriguedthat I knew every corner of that place," I confided, then paused for amoment, wondering what impact my words were having on him.  

But he kept staring at me.  

"I went to the bathroom, andI realized that I had been in that bathroom before," I continued:  

"There were no mirrors init. I remembered that detail before I actually entered the room.  

"Then I remembered thatthere were no mirrors in the whole house.

"So I went through everyroom, and sure enough, I couldn't find any."  

Noticing that I was still gettingno reaction from him, I went on to say that I had realized while listening tothe radio on my way to Tucson that it was one day later than I expected.  

"I must have slept a wholeday," I finished in a strained tone.

"You didn't quite sleep awhole day," Mariano Aureliano pointed out indifferently:  

"You walked through thehouse and talked to us a great deal before falling asleep like alog."  

I started laughing. My laughterwas very near to hysteria, but he didn't seem to notice this.  

He laughed too, and Irelaxed.  

"I don't sleep like a log,ever," I felt compelled to explain. "I'm an extremely lightsleeper."  

He was silent, and when hefinally spoke his voice was serious; demanding:

"Don't you remember beingcurious about how the women dressed and did their hair without glancing intomirrors?"  

I could think of no reply, and hewent on to say, "Don't you remember how odd you found it that there wereno pictures on the walls, and that there was no--"  

"I have no recollection ofhaving talked to anyone," I cut him off in midsentence.  

Then I glanced at him guardedly,thinking that perhaps, just in order to mystify me, he was saying I hadinteracted with everybody in that house, when in reality nothing of that sorthad happened.  

"Having no recollection ofit doesn't mean it didn't take place," he said curtly.  

My stomach flutteredinvoluntarily: It wasn't his tone of voice I took exception to, but rather thefact that he had answered my unspoken thoughts.

Certain that if I kept on talkingsomething would dispel my mounting apprehension, I went into a long and muddledrecitation of how I felt.  

I recounted what had happened.There were gaps in the order of events as I tried to reconstruct all that hadtaken place between the healing session and my drive to Tucson during which Iknew that I had lost a whole day.  

"You people are doingsomething to me; something strange and threatening," I finished, feelingmomentarily righteous.  

"Now you're beingsilly," Mariano Aureliano pronounced and he smiled for the firsttime:  

"If something is strange andthreatening, it is only because you're new at it.  

"You're a tough woman. It'llmake sense to you sooner or later."

I was annoyed at the sound of hisword 'woman'.  

I would have preferred if he hadsaid girl: Accustomed as I was to being asked for my papers to prove that I wasover sixteen, I suddenly felt old.  

"Youth must be only in theeyes of the beholder," he said as if he were again reading mythoughts:  

"Whoever looks at you mustsee your youth, your vigor; but for you to feel you're a kid is wrong.  

"You must be innocentwithout being immature."  

For some inexplicable reason, hiswords were more than I could bear. I wanted to weep; not out of hurt, but outof despondency.  

At a loss for what to do, Isuggested we have something to eat. "I'm famished," I said, trying tosound cheerful.  

"No, you're not," hesaid with authority. "You're just trying to change the subject."  

Startled by his tone and hiswords, I looked at him, appalled.  

My surprise swiftly turned toanger. Not only was I hungry, but I was also exhausted and stiff from the longdrive.  

I wanted to yell and vent on himall my wrath and frustration, but his eyes didn't let me move.  

There was something reptilianabout those unblinking, burning eyes: for a moment I thought he might swallowme up, as a snake swallows a mesmerized, defenseless bird.  

The mixture of fear and angerescalated to such heights I felt blood rushing to my face. And I knew by theslight curious lift of his brows that my face had turned purple.  

Since very early childhood, I hadindulged in horrid attacks of temper.  

Other than trying to soothe me,no one had ever stopped me from indulging in these attacks, and I had indulgedin them until I had refined them into king-sized temper tantrums.  

These tantrums were never causedby being denied what I wanted to have or wanted to do but by indignities- realor imagined- inflicted on my person.  

Somehow the circumstances of thatmoment, however, made me feel ashamed of my habit.  

I made a conscious effort tocontrol myself, which nearly consumed all my strength, but I calmed down.  

"You were a whole day withus, a day which you can't remember now," Mariano Aureliano proceeded,seemingly unconcerned by my fluctuating mood. "During that time, you werevery communicative and responsive; a thing which was extremely rewarding tous.  

"When you are dreaming, youare a much better being, more appealing, more resourceful. You allowed us toknow you in great depth."  

His words threw me into aturmoil. Growing up asserting myself the way I did, I had become quite adept atdetecting meaning hidden behind words.  

'To know me in great depth'bothered me to no end, especially 'great depth.' It could only mean one thing,I thought, and immediately discarded it as being preposterous.  

I became so absorbed in my owncalculations that I no longer paid any attention to what he was saying.  

He kept on explaining about theday I had lost, but I only caught bits and pieces. I must have been staring athim blankly, for all of a sudden he stopped talking.  

"You're not listening,"he reprimanded me sternly.  

"What did you do to me whenI was in a trance?" I shot back at him. More than a question, it was anaccusation.  

I was startled by my own words,for it was not a thought-out statement: The words had simply escaped me oftheir own accord.  

Mariano Aureliano was even moresurprised. He almost choked on the burst of laughter that followed hiswide-eyed expression of shock.  

"We don't go around takingadvantage of little girls," he assured me. Not only did he sound sincere,but he seemed to be offended by my accusation:

"Esperanza told you who weare. We are very serious people," he stressed, then in a mocking toneadded, "And we mean business."

"What kind ofbusiness?" I demanded belligerently. "Esperanza didn't tell me whatyou want from me."  

"She certainly did," heretorted with such assurance I wondered for an instant if he hadn't beenconcealed, listening to our conversation in the patio. I wouldn't have put itpast him.  

"Esperanza told you that youhave been pointed out to us," he went on. "And now we are as drivenby that as you are driven by fear."

"I'm not driven by anythingor anybody," I shouted, quite forgetting that he hadn't told me what iswas they wanted from me.  

Without being in the leastaffected by my anger, he said that Esperanza had made it very clear to me thatthey were committed to rear me from now on.

"Rear me!" I yelled."You're crazy. I've had all the rearing I need!"  

Ignoring my outburst, he went onto explain that their commitment was total; and whether or not I understoodthis was of no importance to them.  

I stared at him, unable to hidemy dread. Never before had I heard someone express himself with such compellingindifference and such concern at the same time.  

In an effort to conceal my alarm,I tried to imbue my voice with a spunkiness I was far from feeling when Iasked, "What do you imply when you say you are going to rearme?"  

"Just what you hear,"he answered. "We're committed to guide you."  

"But why?" I asked,frightened and curious at the same time. "Can't you see that I don't needany guidance, that I don't want any..."

My words were drowned by MarianoAureliano's joyful laughter. "You certainly need guidance.  

"Esperanza already showedyou how meaningless your life is."  

Anticipating my next question, hemotioned me to be silent. "As to why you and not someone else, sheexplained to you that we let the spirit tell us who we should guide. The spiritshowed us that you were the one."  

"Wait a minute, Mr.Aureliano," I protested. "I really don't want to be rude orungrateful, but you must understand that I'm not seeking help.  

"I don't want anybody toguide me, even though I probably need guidance.

"The mere thought isabhorrent to me. Do you see what I mean? Do I make myself clear?"  

"You do, and I do see whatyou mean," he echoed, moving back a step away from my pointed finger."But precisely because you don't need anything, you are a most adequatecandidate."  

"Candidate?" I yelled,fed up with his insistence.  

I looked around me, wondering ifI had been overheard by the people going in and out of the coffee shop.  

"What is this?" I wenton yelling. "You and your companions are all a bunch of nuts. You leave mealone, you hear? I don't need you or anyone."  

To my surprise and morbiddelight, Mariano Aureliano finally lost his temper and began to berate me likemy father and brothers used to.  

In a tightly controlled voicethat never rose to be heard beyond us, he insulted me.  

He called me stupid and spoiled.And then, as if insulting me had given him impetus, he said somethingunforgivable.  

He shouted that the only asset Iever had was to be born blond and blue-eyed in a land where blond hair and blueeyes were coveted and revered.  

"You never had to strugglefor anything," he asserted. "The colonial mentality of the cholos ofyour country made them regard you as if you really deserved specialtreatment.  

"Privilege based merely onhaving blond hair and blue eyes is the dumbest privilege there is."  

I was livid.  

I've never been one to takeinsults sitting down. My years of training at shouting matches at home and theextraordinarily descriptive vulgarities I learned- and never forgot- in thestreets of Caracas in my childhood paid off that afternoon.  

I said things to MarianoAureliano that embarrass me to this day.

I was so worked up I didn'tnotice that the burly Indian who was driving the pickup truck had joined us. Ionly realized he was there when I heard his loud laughter. He and MarianoAureliano were practically on the ground, clasping their stomachs, shriekingwith delight.  

"What's so funny?" Iyelled, turning to the burly Indian. I insulted him, too.  

"What a foul-mouthedwoman," he said in perfect English. "If I were your daddy I wouldwash your mouth with soap."  

"Who asked you to butt in,you fat turd?" In blind fury, I kicked him in the shinbone.  

He yelled out in pain, and cursedme.  

I was about to reach for his arm,and bite him when Mariano Aureliano grabbed me from behind and tossed me in theair.  

Time stopped.  

My descent was so slow, soimperceptible, it seemed to me that I was suspended in the air forever.  

I didn't land on the ground withmy bones broken, as I expected, but in the arms of the burly Indian.  

He didn't even stagger but heldme as if I weighed no more than a pillow, a ninety-five pound pillow. Catchingthe wicked glint in his eyes, I was certain he was going to toss me again.  

He must have sensed my fear, forhe smiled and gently put me down.  

My wrath and strength spent, Ileaned against my car and sobbed.  

Mariano Aureliano put his armaround me and stroked my hair and shoulders, the way my father used to do whenI was a child.  

In a soothing murmur, he assuredme that he wasn't in the least upset at the barbarities I had yelled athim.  

Guilt and self-pity only made meweep harder.  

He shook his head in a sign ofresignation, although his eyes shone with mirth.  

Then in an obvious effort to makeme laugh, too, he confessed that he still couldn't believe I would know, letalone use, such foul language. "Well, I suppose language is there to beused," he mused, "and foul language should be used when thecircumstances are called for."  

I wasn't amused. And once theattack of self-pity had passed, I began, in my usual fashion, to mull over hisassertion that all I had going for me was blond hair and blue eyes.  

I must have cued MarianoAureliano about my feelings, for he assured me that he had said that only toupset me and that there wasn't a shred of truth in it.  

I knew he was lying. For aninstant I felt doubly insulted, and then I was appalled to realize that mydefenses were shattered.  

I agreed with him. He had beenright on target about everything he had said.

With a single stroke, he hadunmasked me; cut through my shield, so to speak.  

No one, not even my worst enemy,could have hit me with such an accurately devastating blow.  

And yet, whatever I might havethought about Mariano Aureliano, I knew he wasn't my enemy.  

I felt quite dizzy with myrealization.  

It was as if an unseen force werecrushing something within me; the idea of myself.  

Something that had given mestrength was now depleting me.  

Mariano Aureliano took me by thearm, and walked me toward the coffee shop. "Let's sign a truce," hesaid jovially. "I need you to do me a favor."  

"You need only to ask,"I responded, trying to match his tone.  

"Before you got here, I wentinto this coffee shop to have a sandwich, and they practically refused to serveme.  

"When I complained, the cookthrew me out." Mariano Aureliano looked at me dejectedly and added,"That happens when one is an Indian."

"Report that cook to themanager," I cried out in righteous indignation; my own turmoil totally andmost mysteriously forgotten.  

"That wouldn't help me inthe least," Mariano Aureliano confided.

The only way I could help him, heassured me, was to go into the coffee shop by myself, sit at the counter, orderan elaborate meal, and drop a dead fly in my food.  

"And blame the cook," Ifinished for him. The whole scheme sounded so preposterous it made melaugh.  

But when I caught sight of hisgenuine expectation, I promised to do what he asked of me.  

"Wait here," MarianoAureliano said, then together with the burly Indian- who had yet to beintroduced to me- headed toward the old red pickup truck parked in the street.They returned within moments.  

"By the way," MarianoAureliano said, "this man here is John. He's a Yuma Indian fromArizona."  

I wanted to ask him if he alsowas a sorcerer, but Mariano Aureliano beat me to the punch. "He is theyoungest member of our group," he confided.  

Giggling nervously, I extended myhand and said, "I'm glad to meet you."  

"Likewise," Johnresponded in a deep, resonant voice, and clasped my hand warmly in his. "Ihope you and I never come to blows again," he grinned.  

Although he wasn't very tall, heexuded the vitality and strength of a giant. Even his big, white teeth seemedindestructible.  

In a joking manner, John felt mybiceps. "I'd bet you can knock a fellow out cold with one punch," hesaid.  

Before I had a chance toapologize to him for my kicks and insults, Mariano Aureliano pressed a smallbox into my hand.  

"The fly," hewhispered. "John here suggests that you wear this," he added,retrieving a black, curly wig from a bag. "Don't worry, it's brandnew," he assured me as he pulled the wig over my head.  

Then, holding me at arm's length,he regarded me critically. "Not bad," he mused, making sure my long,blond braid was tucked in properly. "I don't want anyone to recognizeyou."  

"There's no need to disguisemyself," I asserted. "Take my word for it, I don't know anyone inTucson."  

I turned the side mirror of mycar and looked at myself. "I can't go in looking like this," Iprotested. "I look like a poodle."

Mariano Aureliano gazed at mewith an exasperating air of amusement as he arranged some stray curls."Now, don't you forget that you have to sit at the counter and yell bloodymurder when you discover the fly in your food."  

"Why?"  

He regarded me as if I weredim-witted. "You have to attract attention and humiliate the cook,"he pointed out.  

The coffee shop was packed withthe early dinner crowd. However, it wasn't long before I was seated at thecounter and was waited on by a harrassed-looking but friendly oldwaitress.  

Half-hidden behind the order rackwas the cook. Like his two helpers, he appeared to be Mexican or Mexican-American.  

He went about his job socheerfully I was quite certain he was harmless; incapable of malice.  

But when I thought of the oldIndian waiting for me in the parking lot, I felt no guilt whatsoever as Iemptied the little matchbox- with such stealth and speed not even the men oneither side of me noticed it- over the perfectly cooked hamburger steak I hadordered.  

My shriek of revulsion wasgenuine upon seeing a large, dead cockroach on my food.  

"What is it, dear?" thewaitress asked concernedly.  

"How does the cook expect meto eat this?" I complained.  

I didn't have to pretend anger. Iwas indignant; not at the cook but at Mariano Aureliano. "How can he dothis to me?" I asked in a loud voice.

"It's all some dreadfulaccident," the waitress explained to the two curious and concernedcustomers on either side of me.  

She showed the plate to thecook.  

"Fascinating!" the cooksaid, his voice loud and clear.  

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, hestudied the food. He wasn't in the least upset.

I had the vague suspicion he waslaughing at me. "This cockroach must have either fallen from theceiling," he deliberated, gazing at my head in fascinated interest,"or perhaps from her wig."  

Before I could retort indignantlyand put the cook in his place, he offered me anything that was on the menu."It'll be on the house," he promised.

I asked for a steak and a bakedpotato, which was almost immediately brought to me. As I was pouring some saladdressing over my lettuce, which I always ate last, I discovered a good-sizedspider crawling from under a lettuce leaf.

I was so taken aback by thisobvious evocation I couldn't even shriek.

I looked up. Waving from behindthe order rack was the cook, a dazzling smile on his face.  

Mariano Aureliano was waiting forme impatiently. "What happned?" he asked.  

"You and your disgustingcockroach!" I spat out, then added resentfully, "Nothinghappened.  

"The cook didn't get upset.He enjoyed himself immensely, at my cost, of course. The only one who got upsetwas me."  

At his urging, I gave MarianoAureliano a detailed account of what took place. The more I talked, the morepleased he was.  

Disconcerted by his reaction, Iglowered at him. "What's so funny?" I demanded.  

He tried to keep a serious face,but his lips twitched.  

His soft chuckle exploded into aloud, delighted laughter. "You can't take yourself so seriously," hechided. "You're an excellent dreamer, but you're certainly noactress."  

"I'm not acting now. And Icertainly wasn't acting in there there," I said defensively in a high,shrill voice.  

"I meant that I was countingon your ability to be convincing," he said. "You had to make the cookbelieve something that wasn't true. I really thought you could."  

"How dare you criticizeme!" I shouted. "I made a fool of myself on your behalf, and all youcan say is that I don't know how to act!"

I pulled off the wig and threw itat him. "I'm sure I've got lice now."

Ignoring my outburst, MarianoAureliano went on to say that Florinda had already told him that I wasincapable of pretending.  

"We had to know it for sure,in order to put you in your proper slot," he added equably."Sorcerers are either dreamers or stalkers. Some are both."  

"What are you talking about?What's this nonsense of dreamers and stalkers?"  

"Dreamers deal withdreams," he explained softly. "They get their power; their wisdomfrom dreams.  

"Stalkers on the other handdeal with people; with the everyday world.

"They get their wisdom;their power from interacting with their fellow men."  

"You obviously don't know meat all," I said derisively. "I interact very well withpeople."  

"No, you don't," hecontradicted me. "You yourself said that you don't know how to converse.  

"You're a good liar, but youlie only to get what you want.  

"Your lies are too specific,too personal. And do you know why?"

He paused for a moment, as if togive me time to respond. But before I could even think of what to say he added,"Because for you, things are either black or white with no shades of colorin between.  

"And I don't mean it interms of morality, but in terms of convenience. Your convenience, that is. Atrue authoritarian."

Mariano Aureliano and Johnexchanged glances, then both squared their shoulders, clicked their heels anddid something unforgivable to me.  

They raised their arms in afascist salute and said, "Mein Fuehrer!"  

The more they laughed, thegreater was my rage.  

I felt my blood ringing in myears, rushing to my face. And this time, I did nothing to calm myself.  

I kicked my car and banged myarms against the roof.  

The two men, instead of trying tosoothe me- as my parents or my friends definitely would have done- stood thereand laughed as I were providing them with the funniest spectacle possible.  

Their indifference, theircomplete lack of concern for me was so shocking that my wrath slowed down ofits own accord.  

Never had I been so completelydisregarded. I was lost.  

I realized then that I had nomore maneuvers left.  

I had never known until that daythat if the witnesses to my tantrums didn't show any concern, I didn't knowwhat to do next.  

"I think she's confusednow," Mariano Aureliano said to John. "She doesn't know what todo."  

He put his arm around the burlyidian's shoulders and added softly, yet still loud enough for me to ear,"Now she is going to cry, and when she does, she's going to cry her headoff until we console her. Nothing is as tiresome as a spoiled cunt."  

That did it for me. Like aninjured bull, I lowered my head and charged Mariano Aureliano.  

He was so startled by my vicious,sudden attack, he almost lost his balance: It gave me enough time to sink myteeth in the fleshy part of his stomach.

He let out a yell, a mixture ofpain and laughter.  

John grabbed me by the waist andpulled me away. I didn't let go of my bite until my partial bridge came off. Ihad knocked two of my upper front teeth out when I was thirteen in a fightbetween the Venezuelan and the German students at the German high school inCaracas.  

Both men howled with laughter.John bent over the trunk of my Volkswagen, holding his stomach and banging mycar. "She's got a hole in her teeth, like a football player," hecried out in between shrieks.  

My embarrassment was beyondwords. I was so vexed that my knees gave in on me and I slid to the pavedground, like a rag doll, and actually passed out.  

When I came to my senses, I wassitting inside the pickup truck.  

Mariano Aureliano was pressing myback. Smiling, he stroked my head repeatedly and then embraced me.  

I was surprised by my absence ofemotion: I was neither embarrassed nor annoyed.

I was relaxed; at ease. It was atranquility; a serenity I had never known before.  

For the first time in my life, Irealized that I had never been at peace with myself or with others.  

"We like youimmensely," Mariano Aureliano said. "But you have to cure yourself ofyour temper tantrums. If you don't, they will kill you.  

"This time it was my fault.I must apologize to you. I did deliberately provoke you."  

I was too calm to say anything. Igot out of the truck to stretch my arms and legs. I had painful cramps in mycalves.  

After a few moments of silence, Iapologized to the two men. I told them that my temper had gotten worse since Ihad started drinking colas compulsively.

"Stop drinking them,"Mariano Aureliano suggested.  

Then he completely changed thesubject and went on talking as if nothing had happened. He said that he wasextremely pleased that I had joined them.

"You are?" I askeduncomprehendingly. "Did I join you?"

"You did!" heemphasized. "One day it will all make sense to you."  

He pointed to a flock of crowscawing above us. "The crows are a good omen.  

"See how marvelous theylook. They are like a painting in the sky. To see them now is a promise that wewill see each other again."  

I gazed at the birds until theyflew out of sight.  

When I turned to look at MarianoAureliano, he was no longer there. The pickup truck had rolled away without asound.