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

difficult for him to describe. His grandmother took it from him, walked back to the secretary, and placed the photograph inside. From another drawer, she removed a telegram.
    “Two years ago, I received a wire from
him
.” Her voice changed; it was cold, hard. “From your father telling us that your mother had died.” She shook her head. His grandmother sighed then placed the telegram along with the letter back in the drawer and closed it. “There’s a part of me that still won’t admit it, that still wants to believe she’s alive even if it means she’s living up there. In the hills. With those savages. You said he sent you here?” she asked, composing herself once more. She sat very regal in her chair, hands once more folded and in her lap.
    “Yes,” Diego said.
    “And what does he expect us to do with you?” She reached for alace fan, unfurled it with a snap, then folded it again. “What are
we
to do with you?” She reclined, tapping the tip of the fan against the back of her hand.
    “Let’s see you,” the old man said to Diego, walking inside the living room from the entryway. “We need to take a look.” He wore thick spectacles, and a gray mustache with pointed tips. He hardly had any hair left, and the patches of bald skin on his head appeared smooth and unblemished. They talked about him as if he were invisible.
    “You say he showed up this afternoon?” The old man leaned in closer, adjusted his spectacles.
    “Yes,” the old woman said. “I have no idea how. He had the letter with the address.”
    “He can
read
?” the old man asked, stunned.
    “I don’t have a clue.” His grandmother walked across the room. Heavy clear bottles crowded the top of the credenza, and she poured some of the amber-colored liquid into a glass and handed this to her husband. “There’s nowhere left for him to go,” Doña Julia said. “
He
sent him here.”
    The old man shook his head. “What unnecessary suffering. All of this could have been avoided if only—”
    His grandmother interrupted. “What should we do with him?”
    The old man took a long drink. “We’ll do our best to take care of him, to educate him and refine him. What other choice do we have? He’s still our blood.”
    “Thank God he inherited our light skin,” his grandmother said.
    “Yes. There’s that. You checked for lice?”
    “I had one of the maids do it. I was stunned when she told me he was clean.”
    “Have them run a hot bath. Then take his clothes and burn them. Give him his mother’s room.”
    “Very well,” said his grandmother. She tugged on her long necklace. “Go upstairs,” she said to Diego. “Your room is at the end of the hall. The maid will bathe you, then you’ll eat afterward.”
    “Yes, Grandmother.”
    “Doña Julia,” she corrected him.
    “Doña Julia.”
    “You can call me ‘Grandfather,’ ” the old man said.
    “Yes, sir,” Diego responded before turning around and leaving the room. He walked slowly and stopped at the foot of the wooden stairs, listening to them.
    “Why indulge this?” his grandmother said. “Why let him call you ‘Grandfather,’ Doroteo?”
    “He’s still our grandson,” the old man responded. “Despite everything, he’s the son of our only daughter. We can culture him, teach him to be a good and moral citizen.”
    “Peasants have no morality,” his grandmother told him. “Still, I suppose you’re right. He
is
blood.”
    They were quiet for a short time before his grandfather spoke again. “God is testing us. Looking to see if we can be charitable. Can we, Julia? Can we show clemency?”
    She sighed. “I guess we can. But I don’t have to like it. Or him.”
    Diego crept up the steps and into the dark mouth of the long hallway.
    “You’ll be schooled,” his grandfather said to him the next morning in the courtyard.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “You can call me Grandfather. How old did you say you were again?”
    “Eleven. I’ll be twelve in January.”
    He