Open Pit by Marguerite Pigeon Read Free Book Online Page A

be,” says Pepe, insisting.
    Cristóbal still doesn’t look back at him, and the men stand, just a foot from one another, in an edgy silence until, in a sudden move, Pepe lifts a fist towards Cristóbal, who flinches, his hand going up to protect himself. But the fist slows, coming to land with a light touch across Cristóbal’s left bicep. “If she’s hard on you, it’s okay,” Pepe says teasingly, and uses his knuckles to grind into the arm muscle.
    Cristóbal smiles, relieved. Rita is their one source of conflict. Pepe has openly debated several times whether it’s been a mistake to take advantage of her eagerness to be in on the plan, but Cristóbal always reminds him that it was better to include only people they know. His wife and her sister are both hard workers. And Cristóbal is as eager as Rita for the money Pepe is going to pay them. They’ll use it to buy passage into the U.S. The best coyotes charge $ 8 , 000 , and Cristóbal won’t chance it on the cheaper kind, the ones who might leave you stranded halfway across a swollen river. He hopes Pepe will join them in Los Estados . But everything depends on Pepe placing a small amount of trust in Rita.
    Pepe holds up the camera’s memory card. “If Rita did her job, this will get to San Salvador.”
    â€œShe did.”
    â€œWe’ll see.” Pepe walks off. “I have to take the call. Don’t wait. Pack up.”
    Cristóbal watches him leave and sees Pepe catch Delmi’s eye. Cristóbal knows Rita has encouraged a relationship between the two. “He either fucks my sister or he’ll end up fucking one of the foreigners. Which is easier for you?” she said, and Cristóbal conceded because he knew she was right. But he and Pepe have never discussed it. Delmi simply went to Pepe at some point, and Rita looks after the money. She’s always thinking of money, but Cristóbal believes she’s doing it for them, for their future.
    As far as he knows, Pepe doesn’t have any relations with women except paid ones. At least it’s been that way since the war ended. That’s when the cousins ran into one another at a construction site in San Miguel. “Missed a spot,” said a man standing behind Cristóbal as he was washing his hands in a bucket. Turning around, Cristóbal couldn’t believe his eyes. There was his childhood companion, José Molina Domingo, Pepito, smiling, teasing as he always had. They became inseparable. “ Puro Indio, ” Pepe always calls him. And it’s true. Cristóbal looks Indian. But he doesn’t know anything about the Lenca, the ancient people Pepe says they’re descended from, and he always worries that Pepe is insulting him. Cristóbal only did a few years of school and doesn’t read the way Pepe does — especially not the news, which Pepe has an insatiable appetite for. Pepe is much more capable than he is, but they manage to get along anyway. Better than manage. Cristóbal attributes this affinity to shared blood.
    As Pepe disappears from the campsite and Cristóbal tucks the camera back into his large canvas bag, he remembers those early days after the war, when Pepe was still drinking. He’d get into fights. One time Cristóbal knew just from the face of the man challenging his cousin that he wanted to murder Pepe. The wounds from the war were still so fresh. People acted on impulse. Pepe took the first punch like he wasn’t planning on doing much to stop the next, or the next. Like he wanted to see how many the man had in him. Cristóbal broke it up, but in the commotion Pepe hit him in the head several times. Later, Cristóbal couldn’t tell whether it had been even partly accidental. A lot of ex-militants have calmed down in recent years. Not Pepe. His turn to violence is like a tap valve popping off. He doesn’t need a reason.
    Last year, when he asked for