that when he carried something on his back his whole body
creaked.
I was pretty miserable with the Nagual as my grandpa. But
by then Genaro had already prevailed on my greedy side. He
had told me that he was feeding the Nagual a special formula
made out of plants and that it made him strong as a bull. Every
day he used to bring a small bundle of mashed-up green leaves
and feed it to him. Genaro said that his friend was nothing
without his concoction, and to prove it to me he didn’t give it
to him for two days. Without the green stuff the Nagual
seemed to be just a plain, ordinary old man. Genaro told me
that I could also use his concoction to make women love me.
I got very interested in it and he said that we could be partners
if I would help him prepare his formula and give it to his
friend. One day he showed me some American money and
told me he had sold his first batch to an American. That
hooked me and I became his partner.
My partner Genaro and I had great designs. He said that I
should have my own shop, because with the money that we
were going to make with his formula, I could afford anything.
I bought a shop and my partner paid for it. So I went wild. I
knew that my partner was for real and I began to work mak-
ing his green stuff.
I had the strange conviction at that point that don Genaro
must have used psychotropic plants in making his concoction. I
reasoned that he must have tricked Pablito into ingesting it in
order to assure his compliance.
Did he give you power plants, Pablito? I asked.
Sure, he replied. He gave me his green stuff. I ate tons
of it.
He described and imitated how don Juan would sit by the
front door of don Genaro’s house in a state of profound
lethargy and then spring to life as soon as his lips touched the
concoction. Pablito said that in view of such a transformation
he was forced to try it himself.
What was in that formula? I asked.
Green leaves, he replied. Any green leaves he could get
a hold of. That was the kind of devil Genaro was. He used to
talk about his formula and make me laugh until I was as high
as a kite. God, I really loved those days.
I laughed out of nervousness. Pablito shook his head from
side to side and cleared his throat two or three times. He
seemed to be struggling not to weep.
As I’ve already said. Maestro, he went on, I was driven
by greed. I secretly planned to dump my partner once I had
learned how to make the green stuff myself. Genaro must have
always known the designs I had in those days, and just before
he left he hugged me and told me that it was time to fulfill my
wish; it was time to dump my partner, for I had already
learned to make the green stuff.
Pablito stood up. His eyes were filled with tears.
That son of a gun Genaro, he said softly. That rotten
devil. I truly loved him, and if I weren’t the coward I am, I
would be making his green stuff today.
I didn’t want to write anymore. To dispel my sadness I told
Pablito that we should go look for Nestor.
I was arranging my notebooks in order to leave when the
front door was flung open with a loud bang. Pablito and I
jumped up involuntarily and quickly turned to look. Nestor
was standing at the door. I ran to him. We met in the middle
of the front room. He sort of leaped on me and shook me by
the shoulders. He looked taller and stronger than the last time
I had seen him. His long, lean body had acquired an almost
feline smoothness. Somehow, the person facing me, peering at
me, was not the Nestor I had known. I remembered him as a
very shy man who was embarrassed to smile because of
crooked teeth, a man who was entrusted to Pablito for his
care. The Nestor who was looking at me was a mixture of don
Juan and don Genaro. He was wiry and agile like don Genaro,
but had the mesmeric command that don Juan had. I wanted
to indulge in being perplexed, but all I could do was laugh
with him. He patted me on the back. He took off his hat. Only
then did I realize that Pablito did not have one. I also noticed
that Nestor was much darker, and more rugged. Next to him
Pablito looked almost frail. Both of them wore American
Levi’s, heavy jackets and crepe-soled shoes.
Nestor’s presence in the house lightened up the oppressive
mood instantly. I asked him to join us in the kitchen.
You came right in time, Pablito said to Nestor with an
enormous smile as we sat down. The Maestro and I were
weeping here, remembering the Toltec devils.
Were yon really crying. Maestro? Nestor asked with a
malicious grin on his face.
You bet he was, Pablito replied.
A very soft cracking noise at the front door made Pablito
and Nestor stop talking. If I had been by myself I would not
have noticed or heard anything. Pablito and Nestor stood up;
I did the same. We looked at the front door; it was being
opened in a most careful manner. I thought that perhaps la
Gorda had returned and was quietly opening the door so as
not to disturb us. When the door was finally opened wide
enough to allow one person to go through, Benigno came in as
if he were sneaking into a dark room. His eyes were shut and
he was walking on the tips of his toes. He reminded me of a
kid sneaking into a movie theater through an unlocked exit
door in order to see a matinee, not daring to make any noise
and at the same time not capable of seeing a thing in the dark.
Everybody was quietly looking at Benigno. He opened one
eye just enough to peek out of it and orient himself and then
he tiptoed across the front room to the kitchen. He stood by
the table for a moment with his eyes closed. Pablito and
Nestor sat down and signaled me to do the same. Benigno then
slid next to me on the bench. He gently shoved my shoulder
with his head; it was a light tap in order for me to move over
to make room for him on the bench; then he sat down com-
fortably with his eyes still closed.
He was dressed in Levi’s like Pablito and Nestor. His face
had filled out a bit since the last time I had seen him, years be-
fore, and his hairline was different, but I could not tell how.
He had a lighter complexion than I remembered, very small
teeth, full lips, high cheekbones, a small nose and big ears. He
had always seemed to me like a child whose features had not
matured.
Pablito and Nestor, who had interrupted what they were
saying to watch Benigno’s entrance, resumed talking as soon as
he sat down as though nothing had happened.
Sure, he was crying with me, Pablito said.
He’s not a crybaby like you, Nestor said to Pablito.
Then he turned to me and embraced me.
I’m so glad you’re alive, he said. We’ve just talked to la
Gorda and she said that you were the Nagual, but she didn’t
tell us how you survived. How did you survive, Maestro?
At that point I had a strange choice. I could have followed
my rational path, as I had always done, and said that I did not
have the vaguest idea, and I would have been truthful at that.
Or I could have said that my double had extricated me from
the grip of those women. I was measuring in my mind the
possible effect of each alternative when I was distracted by
Benigno. He opened one eye a little bit and looked at me and
then giggled and buried his head in his arms.
Benigno, don’t you want to talk to me? I asked.
He shook his head negatively.
I felt self-conscious with him next to me and decided to ask
what was the matter with him.
What’s he doing? I asked Nestor in a low voice.
Nestor rubbed Benigno’s head and shook him. Benigno
opened his eyes and then closed them again.
He’s that way, you know, Nestor said to me. He’s ex-
tremely shy. He’ll open his eyes sooner or later. Don’t pay any
attention to him. If he gets bored he’ll go to sleep.
Benigno shook his head affirmatively without opening his
eyes.
Well, how did you get out? Nestor insisted.