Silencing Lana Spendl (bio) An ordinary day in Ávila darkens following a neighborly intervention. Click for larger view View full resolution [End Page 24] SETTING A SUCCULENT into the window box outside, Maria spotted the boys from 2D in the courtyard below. Three brick buildings and a wire fence framed the yard. Up above, the sky moved with clouds. One of the boys was seven, the other nine. Maria on occasion chatted with their mother by the mailboxes on the ground floor. Their father had passed. The mother worked two jobs. The boys stood hunched together, hiding something between them, and they sneaked glances now and then at the courtyard gate. This smelled rotten to Maria, and she glanced at the open living room down the hall to see whether her husband was watching her. In the corner armchair, he held the newspaper open before his face. Her shoulders relaxed. He often chided her for getting involved in others' lives, for getting them both in trouble with her tongue. The smaller boy, blond head in sun, raised his eyes to the building opposite Maria's. He then looked at the adjacent building and at Maria's after that. Maria ducked inside, waited, and then peeked back out. The older boy crouched to lay something on the ground. The little one, stepping aside, gave Maria space enough to see something small and furry on the grass. Brown. Was it a rabbit? A cat? She strained her neck to see. The older boy pulled a penknife from his pocket—a tiny flash of light—and knelt before the creature and began to cut. Maria's hand flew to her mouth. She looked to the living room—her husband was holding the paper up with one hand and reaching for the peanut bowl with the other. In a quick decision, she rushed to the vanity in her bedroom, removed the clips from her hair, fluffed it up, and hurried to the front door and opened it wide. "Maria?" her husband let out. "Uh-huh," she said and slammed the door behind her and hurried down the building's staircase round and round. Heart pounding, she could not decide whether to head directly to the courtyard or to knock on their mother's door. On the second floor, she forced herself to stop. Despite her urgency, it would be too intrusive to discipline someone else's children. She knocked and knocked, and when the door opened to a frightened Paulina, Maria clasped her hands at her chest in prayer and knitted her brows. "What I'm about to tell you is very troubling," she said. The woman's eyes grew wide. "What? What?" She clasped the top of her robe closed with a hand. "Your boys. Your boys are in the courtyard. They are . . ." She had to stop. She covered her face with her hands and then lowered her hands slowly, closing them into fists. "There is no other way to say it. They are torturing an animal." Paulina's frightened expression fell slack. She released the collar of her robe and her shoulders relaxed. She placed her hands on her hips. "What kind of animal?" Maria wavered—had she built this up too much?—but then she remembered the older boy's elbow cutting back and forth into the creature and pain rushed her chest and she knew she was right. "It was big. A mammal. Maybe a cat." Paulina's eyes focused with interest. She looked like she was calculating something. Then she gave a nod. "Fine," she said. "Show me where they are." She removed the keys from the hook by her door, was about to step out, and then remembered something on the stove and strode into the apartment and told Maria to wait. As Maria waited, inside Paulina's apartment, on the wall by the door, she saw a framed virgin and child. The virgin's halo shone gold. When Paulina returned, the women hurried to the ground floor, almost knocking over an octogenarian going up. "So sorry, so sorry." They flew out the front entrance and around the building to the back. Maria led, bent at the waist...
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