Thirteen Senses by Víctor Villaseñor Read Free Book Online

him.
    â€œI put some hair of dog in your coffee for you,” she said, handing him a steaming mug.
    He made a face. “Hair of Luisa’s dog, mama ?’’
    The old woman laughed. “No, not Luisa’s dog. This is what our priest, Father Ryan, says in English, ‘hair of the dog,’ when he puts a little whiskey in his coffee to help him get over his hangover. English, I swear, the more I learn, the more I have to laugh. Did you know that in English they call liquor, ‘spirits’? I love it! Anyway,” she added, “how are you feeling, mi hijito? Pretty bad, eh?”
    â€œYes, mama ” he said, “awful! I’d like to loan my head to my worst enemy!”
    â€œWell, all right,” she said, “sit down and sip your coffee and feel awful if you want for an hour or two, but then no more, because I’ve figured out that this is the perfect opportunity—when everyone thinks you’re on your honeymoon—for you to do some very interesting work. Remember, there is no bad from which good doesn’t come in life, if we just open our eyes and see past our limited vision. Who knows, maybe this situation has actually saved your marriage in the long run, eh?”
    â€œOh, please, mama, I don’t want to hear any of your old wisdom kind of stuff! Besides, I’ve heard all you have to say a thousand times!”
    â€œOh, only a thousand,” she said, refusing to be intimidated, “then I guess I need to tell you a few more times. The two greatest sayings of our whole entire Mexican culture are con el favor de Dios, with the favor of God, and no hay mal que por bien no viene, there is no bad from which—”
    â€œAll right, all right, I heard you, mama ! But please, no more! I’m in pain!”
    â€œOkay, then not another word. But I want you to know that I’m only giving you another couple of hours to feel bad, then that’s it. No more. You get out and start scratching the dirt, looking for seed like any other hungry, healthy chicken.
    â€œRemember, one hour a day of feeling bad or sorry for yourself is good and healthy. Two hours is okay, but three fists of Sun and you need your food and water taken away, so thirst and hunger can then become your teachers. Life was never meant to be easy here on earth, but a lesson learned either by love or chingasos! ” she added, laughing con carcajadas!
    â€œMama; please, no more!” said Salvador, going back outside. His head was pulsating with pain. He didn’t want to hear any more of his mother’s old stuff. My God, sometimes he just wished that she’d shut the hell up!
    Going back outside, Salvador sat down on an old orange crate under the huge avocado tree between his mother’s shack and his sister Luisa’s house. The Sun was high overhead, and sipping his coffee with the whiskey and plenty of sugar, little by little, he began to feel better.
    â€œHair of the dog,” he said quietly to himself. He’d never heard this American expression before. “Hair of a dirty, mangy dog,” he now said, remembering how he’d awoken with Luisa’s dog in his bed, kissing him.
    Finishing his coffee, Salvador began to see that maybe his crazy old mother was, indeed, correct. There really were no accidents in life, la vida, so maybe this was, in fact, the perfect opportunity ... for him to take care of some very important unfinished business before he began his life as a married man. After all, none of his bootlegging competitors would ever expect a lightning-fast attack from a man on his honeymoon.
    FOR SEVERAL MONTHS NOW, two guys had been coming down from Los Angeles to Carlsbad, trying to cut into Salvador’s bootlegging territory. Everyone knew that Salvador’s territory included all of North County San Diego, then the areas of Lake Elsinore and Temecula. The areas of Riverside and San Bernardino he shared with two other medium-size