Carry Me Like Water by Benjamin Alire Sáenz Page B

playing hide-and-seek, but this was the only way of making sure that her visit last night had been real. It was as if she were here to spy on herself. She was no longer sure of anything. “You see,” she continued, “I’m a nurse at St. Mary’s, and one of our patients died yesterday. He mentionedhe’d been baptized at Mission Dolores Church. For some reason, it seemed like an important thing to him. I don’t know if it’s true or not—sometimes it’s the dementia. Anyway, if he was baptized here, I want to give a gift to the church in his name.” She paused. “He was a special patient. I wanted to do something.” Her palms were sweating. She felt her story was a little precious, but when she had come up with this plan, she had figured if money was involved, the church would not ask too many questions. She despised herself for her cynicism. She was certain the secretary would discover her lie, but she had decided that telling the truth was not an alternative. “I’m a little nervous,” she said. “I’ve never been this close to a Catholic church.”
    The secretary smiled. “There’s really nothing to be nervous about.” Her voice was warm, deep, a slight Mexican accent mixed with a heavier southern drawl. “I know how you feel, though. I once went to a wedding in a Baptist church. I was so nervous, you’d have thought I was the bride.”
    Lizzie laughed not so much because she thought her joke was funny but because the laughter helped her relax. She was desperate for a cigarette.
    “It’s very nice of you to want to do something in your friend’s name.” The woman’s smile was warm and strong like a cup of coffee on a cool morning. “I love your earrings—beautiful,” She turned off her electric typewriter and gave Lizzie her full attention. “I’m sure that if he was baptized here, we’ll have a record. The only problem is that our system is a little bit, well, outdated. One of the younger priests wants to computerize the whole system, but the pastor won’t allow it. The old priest has this idea that’s it’s holier to write things out with your own hand than to write something out on a screen. And, me, well, I don’t take sides. I do what I’m told. Anyway, all of our records are kept in books—handwritten. There’s no way I can look up your friend’s record without knowing the year he was baptized—that’s how we do it here—by the year. It’s a simple system but it works.”
    Lizzie listened, already knowing what she would say. She paused a moment. “Well, according to his records at the hospital, he was born on—well—I have it written down.” She opened her purse.unfolded a piece of paper, and read the date. “He was born on August tenth. Does that help?” She felt as though the secretary could see right through her bad acting.
    The secretary smiled. “Do you have a year?”
    “Oh yes—of course.” She stared at the paper. Nineteen fifty-five.”
    “I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something.” She looked at Lizzie as if she were waiting for something.
    “Yes?” Lizzie asked.
    “His name. I’ll need his name.”
    Elizabeth broke out laughing. “I guess I expected you to have telepathy.”
    “Empathy, yes. Telepathy, no. I haven’t learned that one yet.”
    “I have,” she said, Lizzie was immediately sorry she’d spoken.
    “What?”
    “Nothing. It was just a joke.” She smiled to herself. “His name’s Salvador Aguila,” she said.
    “Aguila? What an unusual last name. Are you sure it isn’t Aguilar?”
    “No. It’s Aguila—I’m sure of it.”
    “Very unusual,” she repeated, “But it should make things easier. At least he’s not a Garcia or a Gonzalez—we have thousands of those. One moment. Let me just look this up in our records, I’ll be right back—it shouldn’t take too long, but you never know.”
    “I have time,” Lizzie said matter-of-factly.
    The woman walked through a door and down a hallway. She carried herself