A Cult of Two
by Harrison Kim
Chapter 3: The Phone Booth Incident
The next afternoon, Jimmy popped into a phone booth to call his Grandma Marget. “She’s wiring me money,” he said.
“That’s good news,” I told him.
I paid for all his expenses. The hotel, the food, the Santeria objects and potions. Jimmy believed I possessed perseverance, intuition, and sensitivity, the character of a Santero Master. If I was ever going to reach my Wizard potential, I’d need his instruction. Paying for everything was the least I could do.
“I’m trapped in Mexico without official papers,” he stated, “but I will reimburse you in full when the funds from Grandma Marget arrive.”
I stood under a palm tree in the nearby park and watched him talk in the phone booth. He held the receiver close, leaning on the booth’s glass wall. From off to the side, I noticed a young man staring at me, a skinny acne-faced guy with glasses and a narrow face. He watched for a while, then wandered up: “Hey, is that your friend using that phone?”
“Looks to be so,” I said, scanning around to see if the young fellow had any friends with him. Jimmy told me the Olosi were everywhere.
“Well,” my acquaintance declared, “he’s not talking with anybody.”
“He’s on the line with his grandmother,” I said.
“I don’t see how this can be,” the young man replied, holding out his hand in the familiar Mexican fashion. “My name is Antonio.”
“Hi, Antonio,” I said, warming to his friendliness. “How do you know my amigo is not talking to anyone?”
“Look!” Antonio pointed. “There is no wire connecting the phone booth with the power line. The phone is broken.”
Jimmy kept talking. He turned and looked at Antonio and me.
“No,” I said, “it can’t be broken. Jimmy’s on the line. See, his lips are moving.”
“Okay,” Antonio said. “That makes things very strange.” He stared at me and rubbed his finger over his nose. “Could be your friend is mad.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “No madder than anyone else.” I decided to distract him. “I like your brown suit,” I said. “Is that from Zapatos on the Zona Rosa?”
Antonio smiled. “Good guess.” He kept looking at the phone booth. “Where are you from?” he asked. “How did you learn Spanish?”
“I’m Italian,” I told him. “I’ve been in Mexico quite a few months, so I picked up the lingo.”
I was Canadian but didn’t reveal my true nationality to strangers. Enemies could be everywhere. “Demons will tempt us from our darkest minds,” Jimmy reiterated. “Always watch out. They are envious of our power.”
“Jimmy’s a Vietnam vet,” I told Antonio.
Antonio nodded. “Maybe that’s why he’s talking to himself.”
I thought about that. There could be some war effects. Jimmy insisted having the light on in the room at night. “In Vietnam, we needed to see,” he said. “When I wake up in the night, I want to see who’s there. I want to make sure it’s not the enemy.” He showed me a bubbly scar under his shoulder. “They gave me a purple heart. Everyone wounded got a purple heart.” He laughed out loud.
At night I’d look up at the bed, from my sponge mattress on the floor, and there he’d be lying on his back snoring. As soon as I stood up, or moved around, his eyes would flicker open and look my way. Then they’d shut again. I was never sure if he was awake then or in some more aware state, asleep but perceiving all.
From the phone booth his eyes fixed both on myself and Antonio. He’d been on that line a long time, watching me chat with my new acquaintance.
Finally, he slowly hung up the receiver, keeping his eyes in our direction. He strode over to us. “Who’s this?” he asked in English.
“This is Antonio,” I said. “Jimmy doesn’t speak Spanish,” I told my new acquaintance.
“Tell him the phone line wasn’t working,” Antonio said.
Jimmy stared hard at the young man. Antonio’s eyelids flickered. He put his hand to his face. Jimmy didn’t move. “Tell this Antonio we have to go,” he said.
“I guess we’re heading back to our hotel now,” I said. “Good talking with you, Antonio.”
“Yes,” the young man said, rubbing his eyes a bit more now. I saw tears running down. “I have to say, your friend is very strange.”
Jimmy turned, walked away without looking back. I had to run to catch up with him.
“I could smell the evil on that guy,” he said. “He was prying into our business.”
I checked behind me. Antonio was leaning against the park fence, hands still over his face.
“What did you do to him?” I asked.
“Gave him a warning,” he said. “Be careful where you look. It could hurt your eyes.”
“It was rather odd he showed up when he did,” I agreed with Jimmy. On the other hand, I thought to myself, the phone line wasn’t attached, and Antonio seemed quite friendly.
We headed back to the hotel. An army jeep roared by. I noticed armed men on rooftops setting up guard posts. The inauguration of the new Mexican President, Jose Lopez Portillo was happening the next day.
I didn’t ask Jimmy about the phone line. I didn’t even think about it. What was past was past. I remained in a very peculiar, detached state of mind, focussing mainly on the “now.” It wasn’t until weeks later that I thought of Antonio again.
Copyright © 2021 by Harrison Kim
