Part 4

Evening had fallen, the sky a blazing orange to the west. Margit turned up the main street of Tijuana, past bars and hotels lit with the glow of neon. She’d look at the ocean tomorrow. After stopping to peer into various establishments, she chose El Sombrero, a restaurant topped by a monstrous hat. She enjoyed another glass of beer after being seated and ordered an enchilada, which consisted of a cornmeal pancake wrapped around shredded meat, beans, and vegetables. Margit was soon perspiring from whatever peppers had been blended into the flavourful sauce. The odd sandwich was delicious enough to make her order a second, and another beer helped wash everything down. She thought about Betty as she chewed, hoping she’d decided to behave herself. If she hadn’t, well, not everything was Margit’s fault.

* * *

Margit’s room adjoined Betty’s, and Margit could hear her with the man, grunting and mumbling as she finally cheated on her husband. She imagined a hungry child chewing on a greasy chicken leg. The sounds were that throaty. Eventually, Betty moaned in a deep guttural wail, then grew quiet. Margit heard the man rustling about in the room, robbing her, no doubt. The full Tijuana experience. She got up from her bed and stood at the open window with a cigarette, listening. Betty’s open window was only a few feet away. Still tipsy from the beer, Margit stepped back when she realized how low the sill was, how easy it would be to spill out. They were on the third floor.

Later, as Margit drowsed in her bed, she was aroused by a commotion outside. A woman shouted in Spanish. A car door slammed. Margit rose and walked to the window. Betty’s broken body lay below on the wooden roof over the lobby entrance. She lay on her back, naked, her legs dangling over the edge. Eyes wide open.

Margit covered her mouth with her hand. She’d witnessed countless murders and death in the camp, yet her stomach began to roil when she thought of her part in this sick demise.

Still in her thin chemise, Margit opened the door to the hall and tried Betty’s door. It was unlocked. She hoped the man was not in the room, but if he was, she would scream. The window stood wide open. The curtain pulled aside. Betty must have been cooling herself after her exertion once the man had gone. She’d slipped, drunk and weak-legged, toppling over the sill and out onto the roof below. Someone should go down to explain to the police.

As she turned toward the door, Margit spotted a white square at the end of the bed. A note. Without reading, Margit snatched the thing and hurried back to her room. She read the note in the bathroom, its blue tile bright under fluorescent light.

“Goodbye, Margit. I didn’t plan this, you know. Not until an hour ago. But I knew before I left home that it might come to this. This end. I can’t carry on with my life. Alone. You’ve given Leonard what he’s always wanted. A child. And after the way I’ve treated you today, I can see that I’ll never be anything more than a bitter old woman. Soon to be forgotten. I’m ashamed of the things I said to you. The sneers. I’m an only child. My parents were only children. I have no aunts or uncles, no cousins. And no children of my own. I end here. My family ends here. Much as yours did in the camp. Almost.”

Margit ripped the paper apart. She carried the scraps into the bathroom where she dropped them into the toilet. She flushed. No one could ever be allowed to read that note. She could never tell Leonard what Betty had said. Word would get out somehow. The insurance company wouldn’t pay. And what about the divorces? She hoped she could still divorce Jerry. How long would she have to wait before she could marry Leonard? Mr. Anderson would explain everything when he got here. Everything would be fine.

Margit returned to the bedroom and stretched herself out on the bed. She thought about what Betty had written, about her being at the end of the line. The moon was just visible through the open window and cast a gentle silver beam over her belly. She inhaled deeply and folded her hands on top of it.