The Five Acts of Diego Leon by Alex Espinoza Read Free Book Online

city, Diego climbed to the crest. He soon found himself atop a low rise with all of the city of Morelia below. In the distance, the cathedral’s twin bell towers rose up into the sky. Somewhere among it—the old buildings with their elegant arches and graceful columns, the large homes, unlike any he had seen before, the expansive and shaded plazas—lived his grandmother and grandfather. Diego trembled, afraid he’d never find them. He clutched the valise and walked down the hill, cautious. The people he passed looked at him with suspicion. Maybe they thought he was a beggar, because a few of them held pesos out to him. After he accepted one, a police officer strolling by walked over and told Diego that, if he was to beg, to please do so around the corner, in front of the church, where the rest of the city’s vagrants were permitted by the municipal authorities to gather and solicit money.
    “But I’m not a beggar,” Diego explained. He handed the officer the letter his father had given him. He pointed to the address. “There,” he said. “I need to go there.”
    The officer squinted, trying to make out what was written on the envelope. He shook his head. “I know this address,” he said. “This is the home of Licenciado Sánchez. Licenciado Doroteo Sánchez. What kind of business does a dirty peasant like you have with him?”
    “He’s my grandfather.”
    “He’s your grandfather?” The police officer laughed.
    “Please, I’m telling the truth. Will you help me?”
    The police officer sighed. “Very well,” he said, handing him the letter. “It’s not that far. I’ll escort you.” The officer reached out and snatched the peso Diego had been given. “For my troubles,” he said.
    Verdant laurels and ash trees lined the sidewalks, providing shade from the hot sun and perfuming the air. The police officer led him through a park with stone trails and bandstands, down streets where shops sold extravagant gowns and suits and ties. There was the constant rush of trolley cars and the clopping of horses’ hooves. Diego saw bars, a few houses where women in tight dresses leaned in the doorways or waved at passersby through opened windows. There were dance halls, rooms full of games, restaurants, and large hotels.The women paraded by in fancy hats and dresses, the men in striped plus fours and silk spats over their shoes, well shaven and groomed, nothing at all like the men of the countryside, Diego thought, nothing at all like his father. The city was noisy with movement; people boarding trolleys, darting across the crowded avenues, avoiding honks and shouts, and screeching tires. Finally, they turned down a quiet street where there were many two-story houses made of plaster and adorned with iron and glass.
    “Here you are,” said the officer, stopping before a white house set toward the back of the plot, away from the sidewalk. “Go on.”
    In front of the house, giant clay pots held plants and flowers of vibrant colors and strong smells—hibiscus bushes, bougainvillea vines, roses and lilies. A stone fountain trickled water, and a sundial sat on a large table, casting shadows near the imposing front door. He took a deep breath before knocking, and soon there came the sound of footsteps from the other side. The locks were unfastened, and the hinges groaned as they squeaked open. The woman was older, her gray hair pulled back tightly in a bun. She wore dark clothing—a sweater, a long blue dress, thick stockings, and black shoes with low, wide heels. She looked sad, lost, far away.
    “Yes?” she responded, eyeing Diego curiously. “What do you need? Quickly. State your business. I haven’t got all day.”
    He remained silent, unable to speak; he was so panicked.
    “Are you looking for charity?” She gripped the door’s handle. “Speak, or I’ll notify the police.”
    “No,” Diego managed to say.
    “Go away. Just go away and take your begging somewhere else. We haven’t got anything here