Water by Don Stockard |
Pepito sat beside the door of the adobe hut, staring at the plain of creosote and cholla which stretched to the horizon. He was a small, thin boy of eight. Large brown eyes dominated his face, contrasting with his delicate features. His clothes – an off-white, long pullover and trousers to match – were soiled and often mended. He was barefoot. The full heat of midday pounded the barren expanse with malicious fury. Nothing stirred. Everything living had retreated to the shade. The boy's eyes were vacant as he fantasized running across a white sand beach and splashing into the water. He had never been further than the nearby town, let alone to the ocean. But he had once seen a faded picture of a beach and people playing in the water. The image had burned into his mind and resurfaced as a refuge from the unrelenting heat. "Pepito!" a shrill wavering voice called. The boy stood up and entered the hut. It was neither warmer nor cooler than where he had been sitting. But the darkness of the interior gave the illusion of coolness. "Yes, Grandmother," he said softly. "I am thirsty. I must have water." "We have no water, Grandmother." He could see the whites of her eyes as she stared at him. The rest of her face and body were swathed in the coarse black cloth of a widow. "It is hot. So hot. I must have water." Pepito licked his dry lips. He too was thirsty. "The well is dry. We will have none until Papa comes home this evening." In the midst of a severe drought, the municipality carefully rationed water. At the end of the workday, when Pepito's parents and siblings returned, they would bring the family's ration. Pepito was too young to work and had been left at home to care for his aged grandmother. "I will die without something to drink! Please, Pepito. Find me some water." The desperation in his grandmother’s voice alarmed the boy. "I will ask Mrs. Fernandez. They are only two. Perhaps they can spare some water." "Oh yes, Pepito. And hurry." The boy ran out the door, grabbed a rope-handled wooden bucket and started down the dusty road. It was half a mile to the Fernandez's hut. The couple was their closest neighbor. When Pepito arrived, Mrs. Fernandez was in front of her hut washing clothes at a galvanized tub. "Hello, Mrs. Fernandez," Pepito said shyly. He always felt intimidated talking to an adult. Mrs. Fernandez, a large dark woman, stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Yes?" She frowned. Unable to have children herself, she had developed a dislike for them in general. Pepito swallowed nervously. "My grandmother is thirsty and we have no water." "And I suppose you want some of ours." "If you can spare a little —" She interrupted the boy with a harsh laugh. "I barely have enough to wash clothes and cook. I can't be giving away water. There's a draught. Everyone's thirsty. Go see the priest or mayor or someone. Maybe they'll have some water for you." She resumed washing. Pepito watched her for a few moments. His mother had been unable to wash for a month due to the shortage of water. Not knowing what else to do, Pepito continued toward town. It was a difficult two miles in the heat. The town consisted of a number of adobe huts much like Pepito's. There were several larger buildings housing businesses. And at the town square, the church stood on one side and the administration building on the other. Pepito halted in the square, looking from one building to the other. He hesitated and then decided on the church. Entering, he heard a noise coming from the front. He crossed himself and walked up the aisle. A man, whom Pepito did not recognize, was working on the floor in front of altar. Pepito halted at the head of the aisle, waiting for the man to see him. It was a full five minutes before the man looked up. He was stout and middle-aged with shaggy hair and a full beard. "What do you want?" He frowned at the boy. "Is the padre in?" "What do you want with a priest?" The man's scowl deepened. "My grandmother needs water. I thought the padre might have some to spare." He raised the bucket. The man snorted. "Oh sure. He has a private well that's always full. What do you want, a miracle? Of course he has no water. He's like everyone else." Pepito nodded. "Thank you." He turned and walked away. Once the boy was out of sight, the man walked to an alcove in the side of the apse and took a drink from a barrel of water, spilling half the dipperful on the floor. Just as he finished the priest stepped out of his office. "Did I hear someone?" The workman shrugged. "Just some kid." "What did he want?" "Don't know. I think he was just lost." The priest frowned. "In the future send anyone who comes in to me. Sometimes I can help where others cannot." "Of course, Padre." The priest glanced at the spilt water on the floor. "Be careful of the water. There are others who might need it." With another glance at the man the priest reentered his office. From the church, Pepito walked across the square to the administration building. It was three stories high and almost as tall as the steepled church. The boy entered and looked around. He had never been in the building before. Compared to outside it was cool. The thick adobe walls and the large ceiling fan kept the temperature bearable. The first floor was one large room. File cabinets, a table with six chairs and several desks with typewriters filled the space. A corpulent man in a white shirt open at the collar sat behind the only occupied desk. He stared at the boy for a moment. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a gravelly voice. He was not accustomed to seeing unaccompanied children in the building. "My grandmother is thirsty," Pepito said quietly. He was shaking slightly. "Who isn't?" the man responded. "She is aged and I thought you might have some water for her." Pepito neither looked up nor stopped shaking. "Water for her!" There was genuine anger in his voice. "This is the administration building, not a watering trough. There's a drought. We have a water ration just like you. You can't expect me to be giving you more water if you squander your allotment." Pepito looked up. There was a water cooler beside the man's desk. The boy stared at it out of curiosity. He had no idea what it was. The man followed the boy's gaze and flushed. "Get out!" he shouted. "I have important things to do. I can't be wasting my time with you." Pepito hurried out the door and into the square. Discouraged, he sat down on a bench in the shade of the building. He thought of his grandmother, lying on her bed in the hut. Suddenly he remembered his Uncle Raul, who lived on the edge of town. And his mother had often said he rarely worked, so Pepito assumed he would be home. Surely he would spare some water for Grandmother. Picking up his bucket, Pepito walked quickly across the square and down the street to his uncle's hut. The door stood open. "Uncle!" Pepito called. "Uncle!" There was a stirring inside but no one came to the door. Pepito repeated his call. His uncle, a tall rangy man with an unkempt beard, staggered to the door. He stared at Pepito with glazed eyes. "It's me, Pepito. Don't you recognize me?" "Pepito!" the uncle said. "Of course." He giggled. "Why wouldn't I recognize you?" "Grandmother is very thirsty. Could you spare some water for her?" "Water?" His uncle stared at him in silence for a few moments. "Water?" He threw back his head and laughed. "We don't drink water here, only tequila!" He laughed again. "I don't have any water. Just tequila. No. No water." He staggered inside, laughing. Pepito stood at the door for several moments before he turned and walked slowly away. Other than asking a complete stranger, he had no other options. And Pepito was far to shy to ask a stranger. He plodded slowly home, his head bowed. It was mid-afternoon, the hottest part of the day. He did not look forward to facing his grandmother and even worse his parents. It was his responsibility to take care of his grandmother and he had failed. And what if she died? It would be his fault. He halted and sat down on a rock beside the road, setting his bucket beside him. He was both tired and reluctant to return home. He dropped his head in his hands and started to cry. A rumbling sound brought his head up. Dark clouds swirled overhead. As he stared open-mouthed at the sky, a few drops of rain began to fall. The rain increased rapidly in intensity and soon Pepito was drenched. And then as quickly as it had come, the storm dispersed, leaving only a few wisps of clouds in its wake. Still staring at the sky, Pepito stood up and reached for the bucket. He found the handle. But when he tried to pick it up, it was heavy. He glanced at the bucket and his eyes expanded in surprise. It was half-full of water. A grin spread across his face and he hurried toward home. Fifty feet on all sides of the rock, the earth was dry, untouched by the rain. |
Copyright by
Don Stockard
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Background by
Absolute Background Textures Archive