Meet Me Under The Ombu Tree (33 page)

‘You will not bring shame upon our good family name,’ added her mother tightly, considering what this sort of scandal could do to the future prospects of her sons. She recalled bitterly the recent happy moments she had shared with her daughter and the growing sense of pride she had felt. Those moments made the disappointment all the more severe.

‘You want me to have an abortion?’ Sofia repeated slowly. Her hand rested on her belly and when she looked down she saw that she was shaking.

‘Your mother...’ began Paco.

‘Oh, so it’s you!’ she said, turning viciously on her mother. ‘You know you’ll go to Hell for it! You’re meant to be a good Catholic. Where have all your principles gone? I can’t believe your hypocrisy. You make a mockery of your own faith!’

‘Don’t speak to your mother like that, Sofia,’ her father said in a tone she had rarely heard him use. She looked from one parent to the other through the eyes of a stranger. She no longer knew them.

‘The child will be insane, Sofia. It isn’t fair to bring a child like that into the world,’ her mother replied with forced calmness. Her voice softened and she added with a weak smile, ‘It’s for your own good, Sofia.’

‘I won’t abort it,’ she told them stubbornly. ‘My child won’t be insane. You’re so worried about the family reputation. It’s got nothing to do with the

health of my child. You think no one will find out? That’s a joke.’ She laughed scornfully.

‘Sofia, you’re angry now, but you’ll understand in time.’

‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ she said and crossed her arms defensively in front of her chest.

‘We’re only thinking of you. You’re our child, Sofia, and we love you. Trust me,’ said her father.

‘I thought I could,’ she responded flatly.

Abortions were for whores. They were dirty and dangerous. What would Padre Julio say if he found out? Would she be damned to eternal Hell? Suddenly she wished she had listened to his sermons instead of dreaming about sex and Santi. Having thought that religion was for weak-minded people who needed direction like Soledad, or for fanatics like her mother who used it only when it suited her, she now feared that there really
was
a God and that He would punish her for what she had done. While she had been dreaming, religion had crept in through her subconscious only to surface and torment her at the very time she was most in need of its comfort.

‘I have to say goodbye to Santi,’ she said finally, staring at the patterns on

the wooden floor.

‘I don’t think we can allow it, Sofia,’ replied her mother coldly.

‘I don’t see why not, Mama. I’m already pregnant!’

‘Sofia, don’t speak to me like that. This is no laughing matter. It is very, very serious. No, you cannot see anyone before you go,’ she said resolutely, smoothing her hands down the skirt of her dress.

‘Papa, this is not fair. What harm can it do to see Santi?’ she pleaded, pushing herself up from the sofa. Her father thought about it for a while. He walked over to the window and looked out onto the
pampa
as if the vast horizon would grant him an answer. He couldn’t look at his daughter. His guilt was too great. He knew he should stand up to his wife, but he also knew that if he did, he would lose her for ever. Things had been so much better. He knew that this wasn’t so much about Sofia’s affair as his own affair back in 1956. Both he and Sofia had betrayed Anna’s trust. He could tell that was what she was thinking; he could see the hurt in her eyes. It was about Anna’s nagging feelings of isolation. But he had no choice, he had to agree.

‘I think your mother is right, Sofia,’ he said at last without turning around. ‘You’ll go with Jacinto to Buenos Aires tomorrow morning. Why don’t you run

along and pack your things. You’ll be away some time ..

Sofia heard his voice crack but she felt no pity. ‘I will
not
go without saying goodbye to Santi,’ she shouted, her face red with frustration. ‘You’re not thinking of me, you’re thinking of your stupid family name and reputation. How can you put that above the feelings of your own daughter? I hate you, I hate you both!’ She ran out of the room onto the terrace. She didn’t stop running until she reached the privacy of the trees. Leaning against the bark she sobbed at the injustice of the world, and looking around at her beloved Santa Catalina she felt nothing but hatred.

Back in the kitchen she could hear her parents fighting in the sitting room. Her mother was sobbing loudly and shrieking at her father in English. She didn’t wait to listen.

‘Soledad,’ she hissed.

The maid looked up from her cooking to see Sofia tearfully standing in the doorway. ‘What is it, what is it?’ she replied in her gentle voice as she rushed over to embrace the young woman who would always be a child to her. She held her tightly although Sofia was now taller than she was.

‘Oh Soledad, I am in such trouble. Will you do something for me?’ Her eyes, that only a moment ago had been matt, now glittered with the excitement of a plan. She ran over to the sideboard and grabbing a pencil scribbled a brief note.

‘Give this to Santi as soon as you can. Don’t tell anyone, or show it to anyone, do you understand?’

Thrilled to be involved in a secret, Soledad, winked and put the note in her grubby apron pocket.

‘I will go right now, Señorita Sofia. Don’t you worry, Señor Santiago will have this letter in his hand in a second.’ And she bustled out of the room.

When Rafael and Agustin arrived at Chiquita’s house they told their cousins with great excitement that Sofia was in trouble again.

‘She’s had it coming to her for weeks,’ Agustin sniggered gleefully.

‘That is so untrue,’ said Maria. ‘Your mother was saying only a few days ago how well they’re getting on. Don’t be so unkind.’

‘How long do you think they’ll be?’ asked Santi uneasily.

‘Not long. Knowing Sofia, she’ll run off with her bags packed,’ Rafael said,

switching on the television and flopping down onto the sofa. ‘Maria, will you be an angel and get me a drink?’

‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘What do you want?’

‘A beer.’

‘One beer - anyone else?’

Santi stood by the window looking out, but all he saw was his own reflection in the glass staring anxiously back at him. They all sat in front of the television but Santi wasn’t watching. After half an hour he could wait no longer and he left the house in great haste. Just as he was crossing the terrace he saw Soledad, red-faced and sweating, striding purposefully through the trees towards him.

‘Soledad, what are you doing?’ he asked when she reached him. He felt uneasy.

‘Gracias a Dios, gracias a Dios
,’ she replied, crossing herself in agitation. ‘This is a letter from Señorita Sofia - she told me to give it to you and no one else. It is a secret, you understand? She is very upset, very upset. She’s crying. I must go to her.’ She dabbed nervously at her forehead with a white hanky.

‘What is wrong with her?’ he asked, sensing the seriousness of the situation.

‘I don’t know, Señor Santiago. I don’t know anything. It is in the letter.’ And before he could say another word she disappeared like an apparition into the trees.

Once in the light of the veranda he opened the note.
Meet me under the om-bu tree at midnight
, was all it said.

Sofia had long since stopped crying. Lying on her bed she waited with the patience of someone resigned to her fate. Time passed very slowly, but she knew midnight would come eventually. She watched the plants swaying in the wind outside her window and they had a strange hypnotic effect that dulled her pain.

Finally she got up, collected the torch from the kitchen and, like a prisoner of war, made her escape. She crept like a puma with silent steps through the darkness to the ombu tree. With a contracted heart she hurried through the park as if her very life depended on it. She was strong with resolve but weak in the face of her inevitable destiny. She felt she was acting a part in a tragic school play, and although the drama appealed to her she couldn’t quite reconcile herself to the reality of it.

The walk to the tree seemed much longer than usual. She quickened her steps. As she neared the ombu she noticed a small yellow light, Santi’s torch, dancing in mid-air like a giant glow-worm as he paced up and down with impatience.

‘Santi!’ she gasped, falling into his arms. ‘Santi, they know, they’ve found out, they’re sending me away.’ She stammered, afraid she wouldn’t have time to tell him everything before they were discovered.

‘What? Who knows? How?’ he asked, confused. He had known something was wrong from the urgent tone of her note, but he had never expected this. ‘Calm down, no one’s going to find us here. It’s okay,’ he said, trying to sound strong when he felt conquered by the powers of Fate.

‘No, it’s not. They’re sending me to Switzerland - they’re sending me away. .'
hate them!’

‘How do they know?’

Sofia was about to tell him in her usual impulsive way that she was pregnant, but stopped herself. Her parents had told her not to tell anyone. They had been very specific. She feared that if she told Santi he would be unable to keep it to himself. He would probably stride into the house like a cowboy, guns smoking, and demand his rights as the father of the child. There was no telling what her parents might do then. She was still required to do their bidding by law. They could send her away and prevent her from ever returning. While she was in Argentina she was at their mercy. No, she couldn’t tell him now, she decided. She would write to him from Geneva when her parents were too far away

to do anything about it. So, struggling against her longing to share her sorrow she resigned herself, for the time being, to carry the truth alone.

They know,’ she conceded, ‘and they’re furious. They’re sending me away to get over you.’ She sobbed miserably, searching his eyes through the dark for confirmation of his affection but all she could make out were two dark holes.

‘But Chofi, let me talk to them. They can’t send you away. I won’t stand by and let them send you away!’ he whispered fiercely, determined to beat the forces that were trying to separate them.

‘Oh, I wish you could, but they won’t listen to you. They’re just as angry with you as they are with me. You wouldn’t believe the things my mother has said to me. I think she’s thrilled to be getting rid of me.’

‘I’m not going to let them take you from me. What will I do without you? I can't be without you, Sofia!’ he hissed, his voice a plaintive cry in the dark.

‘Oh, Santi, just accept it. We have to.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ he spat angrily. ‘They don’t have any proof. How come they’re so sure? Who saw us?’

‘I don’t know, they didn’t tell me,’ she said, ashamed that she was able to lie with such ease.

‘I’ll come with you.' he said brightly. ‘I’ll leave with you. Let’s go and start a new life together far from here. Let’s face it, we would have had to in the end anyway. There’s no future for us here.’

‘You would leave Santa Catalina for me?’ she said, choked by the ferocity of his devotion.

‘Yes, I would. I’ve left before. But this time I won’t come back,’ he said gravely.

‘You can’t,’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘You love Argentina as much as I do. You couldn’t leave and never come back. Besides, your parents would be mortified.'

‘We’re in this together, Chofi. I won’t let you take all the blame. For God’s sake, it takes two to have an affair. So let me be banished with you.'

‘But your parents?’ she said, imagining the extent of Chiquita’s sorrow.

‘I’ll do what I want. I don’t need my parents’ permission to leave the country.’

‘I need mine to leave the country,’ said Sofia miserably.

‘Okay. So go along with your parents’ plan. I’ll come later and find you,’ he said, holding her upper arms so tightly she winced.

‘Santi - you really would lose everything for me?’

‘I’ll do anything for you, Chofi.
¹

‘But your future is here. If you come with me, how can we ever return? You can’t defy your family if you aren’t prepared to abandon them for ever.’

Then I’ll abandon them for ever. I love you. Don’t you understand, my future is with
you.
You’re not some fleeting fancy, Chofi. You are my life.’ And as he uttered those words he realized that she was, indeed, the force that drove him. It took a situation like this for him to realize the depth of his love, the extent of his need. Without her everything that he cherished at Santa Catalina would disintegrate like a body deprived of the breath that sustains it. She was the life force that fed everything. He knew that now with as much certainty as he knew he wasn’t going to lose her.

‘Okay. If you’re serious, let’s make a plan,’ she said, her heart beating back to life again. ‘Once I’m in Switzerland I’ll write to you and tell you where I am. Then you can come.’ They both smiled at the simplicity of their plan.

‘Okay, but they may try to intercept our letters. We have to be prepared for everything. Say I confide in Maria - you can write the letters to her,’ suggested Santi.