The First Coin

The silence in that room was broken only by the ticking of the old clock. It was a space that was neither too big nor too small: just enough room for a dining table and a cheap living room set. The photographs on the wall told the story of Roberto Herrera Lopez in chronological order. Diplomas from kindergarten, elementary school, high school, even an English course. Memories of children's birthdays where the only constant was his smile.

Not a single photo of her. His mother. Her face wasn't on any of those walls, but the love with which she had raised him was everywhere. It overflowed from every object, not just the walls, but the entire house.

Roberto was sitting with his legs spread, his hands hanging between them.

His head was bowed. He looked heavy, worn down. His eyes were watery, dark-circled, tired. He wasn't yet thirty and he had no memory of his father, a man whose name they had told him only once. That man was supposed to have been with her for just two years of her life, and then alcohol took him to his grave. He became an alcoholic after the death of Roberto's twin brother. A baby who didn't make it to twenty-four months; meningitis cut his short life short and took him to heaven, according to his mother. Only Roberto and she were left of that family.

The door to the main bedroom, as you would expect in a house like that, a house of the have-nots, was right next to the dining room.

And from there came a guttural moan, louder than the ticking of the clock.

"Robertooo..." It was his mother's voice, waking up.

Roberto walked through the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and entered the bedroom. Lying on the bed, bedridden, was his dying mother.

"How are you, Mami?"

"Dying, my son..."

Roberto didn't know what to answer. He'd been hearing the same thing for almost two weeks. And the truth was, it was true: the cancer was terminal and the doctors expected her to go at any moment. In fact, by their calculations she should have died ten days ago. She, stubborn, refused to die in the hospital. She begged to die in her own house. Roberto, her obedient son, promised her that. He would take care of her until the last second, and there he was, beside her, watching how she stopped being a woman made of steel to become a vague memory behind her half-closed eyes. She was only a shadow of how strong she used to be.

"My love..."

"Don't strain yourself, Madre..."

"My love, I think I know why I can't die..."

"Because you're too tough, like a rock..."

"No, son..."

He fluffed her pillow and helped her drink the water. He checked her diaper. He thought about how he was returning a favor she must have done for him an infinite number of times when he was a baby. He finished and started back toward the living room, but she stopped him:

"¡Hijo!"

"Tell me..." he answered, freezing mid-step.

"Sit here next to me... I have to confess something..."

"Mamá..."

Roberto thought about making an excuse to leave the room; she rambled a lot and never made any sense. But he chose to obey. He sat on the edge of the bed and she began to speak.

"Please, don't interrupt me..."

"Madre..."

"They were the two most beautiful babies in the world. Pink, chubby, and always hungry... I can still see you, identical... In fact, I don't even have to try to picture your brother on my left, just as you are on my right. Like two drops of water. For Rigoberto, your father, you were everything. Not a day went by that he didn't bring home a new toy for you... We were so happy... Then they came..."

Roberto listened carefully. She actually seemed to be connecting ideas; she wasn't rambling like the other times.

"Who?" he asked, interested.

"Those men in suits and ties... They took everything. Everything... They only left us debts. They charged us money we didn't even owe, money we didn't have. Rigo locked himself in the room doing numbers. He borrowed money just to buy milk and diapers for you two. He didn't sleep. He was tense, desperate. Even more so when he heard you crying from hunger. And I... I didn't help him. On the contrary, I complained even more about how miserable he had us."

"Mamá... don't blame yourself..."

"Wait!... Don't interrupt me, please. Then that damned day came when he handed me a bag with only two diapers and a little bag of powdered milk. He had been crying a lot, I knew it, his eyes gave him away. He tried to act strong, he always did in front of me; he never showed me how weak he was. He locked himself in the room again and cried. Daguito started with the fever, higher and higher. I bathed him, gave him acetaminophen and the fever wouldn't break. My child, my baby, he didn't even have the strength left to cry. He went limp, like a rag doll. We took him to the clinic in Aguilares. Rigo cried holding him. Our baby was dying. We spent that night next to the little clinic crib. You slept in my arms and your brother just couldn't find any peace. The doctors could do nothing... They gave me his little body at eleven in the morning. An aunt of Rigo's gave us the little white box we used to keep vigil over him that night. We didn't even have money to buy it..."

It was the first time Roberto had ever heard that story. He had asked so many times about his brother's death and had always received the same answer: an icy silence he could never decipher.

"All wakes are sad. How much you cry depends on how they died and who they were. But the death of a baby is the one that hurts the most. Everyone cries for what the parents are suffering... My little angel wasn't even baptized. He looked like a little doll in his box... We lived in Tejutla, past the Amayo turnoff in Chalatenango, right on the flat ground after the triangle at the entrance, before the Catholic church. It was a mesón. The owner let us use the front room for the wake, the one facing the cobbled street. A lot of people came with sweet bread and coffee. The crowd was huge. Father Ottoniel came all the way from Chalate, because we ran to get him. But for that it was already too late... He blessed him and put holy water on his forehead, but it was for nothing."

"That night I wasn't even aware of the time. I was like a waterwheel, just spinning and crying. Your godmother, my comadre, was taking care of you. Rigo was drinking, but he was so nervous. You could tell. He kept looking at the clock, as if he was waiting for something. They told me it was almost midnight when the wind started to howl, cold... It brought with it a strange smell of sulfur and burnt brush. The women wrapped themselves tighter in their shawls and the men adjusted their hats. Without even realizing it, little by little, the dogs started barking, almost in chorus. That pack came from far away and got closer and closer."

It came from far away, from the hill. A black figure on horseback, riding through the mist. The dogs barked louder. The wind picked up. The figure stopped at the intersection, where the street turns into dirt road, where the mesón ends and the darkness begins. It didn't move. It just stood there, a dark shadow, and then, from the shadows, the sound of hooves on cobblestone echoed against the walls of every house. The clouds covered the moon and everything went black. And then, a voice... "You have something that belongs to me..."

My blood ran cold. Father Otto was praying, trying to bless the little box, but the wind blew out his candles. Everyone was terrified. A woman screamed that the devil had come for the unbaptized child.

Rigo went outside. I screamed at him not to go, but he did. He walked to the middle of the street, facing the rider. I couldn't hear what they said. Then the rider threw something. A small bag that landed at Rigo's feet. Rigo picked it up. When he came back inside, his face was white as paper.

Inside that little burlap sack was a coin. A gold coin. He said it was payment. For what, I never knew.

Roberto thought his mother's story was just another delirium, another tale told by grief. But his mother insisted it was real.

"Your father kept that coin hidden in his work boot for years. When he died, I kept it. It's yours now."

She reached under her pillow and pulled out a small, dirty cloth bundle.

His mother's hand trembled as she handed it to him. It was heavy.

Roberto unwrapped it. It was a coin, dark with age, but heavy, unmistakably gold. On one side, the profile of a beautiful woman crying. On the other, a Roman numeral IV.

His mother took one last, deep, rattling breath and died.

Her hand went limp in his.

The room was silent again, except for the old clock.

Roberto stood there, the coin in his hand, feeling nothing and everything at once. More than sadness. A strange, cold emptiness.

He buried his mother the next day with what little money he had. He came back to an empty house.

For days he just sat there. He didn't eat. He didn't sleep.

Until, on the third night, he picked up the coin again. He looked at it closely.

And then he saw him.

A boy, sitting on the edge of the bed. The same age as him. The same face. Wearing the same clothes he was wearing.

He dropped the coin. The coin hit the floor with a clang. But the figure didn't disappear.

"Mierda!" he shouted.

The boy smiled, but his eyes were full of sadness.

"So you can finally see me," the boy said. It was his own voice.

Roberto couldn't speak. His mouth was dry.

"Can you... can you hear me?" the boy asked, stepping closer.

Roberto finally found his voice, but it was just a whisper.

"Si... ¿Puedes verme?"

"Yes, I can see you," the boy answered in Spanish, then in English. "I have always been able to see you."

Roberto was still in shock, trembling.

"I... I... I think I'm going crazy... Your face... you are..."

"Dagoberto. Your brother," Roberto said, finishing the sentence with difficulty.

"Dago, if you like. But yes, I'm Dagoberto."

"That's not possible."

"Isn't it?"

"No, no... it can't be."

"I always wondered what it would be like if we could talk to each other."

"No, no... the look on Roberto's face was total confusion."

"Did you want me to be your first girlfriend? Your first girlfriend was named Sandra, in fourth grade. You cut her hair because you liked another girl. You lost your virginity to Wendy, at your best friend's graduation party. You repeated a year in high school, coincidentally also called Sandra, and you copied on the PAES test."

"No... No, you can't know that... How do you know my answers?"

"The worst part is that you never stopped masturbating in the shower. Mom knew. She said sometimes you couldn't even afford soap because you spent it on that costume."

Roberto's face changed from confused to one of pure shame. They both fell silent, united by the memory of the old woman.

"How were Mom's caresses?" the specter asked.

"Like the softest silk..."

"Even though you say you are silk too."

"It must be sad, your life... This is not life, but now it will change. It's not nice to be alone. Maybe now I won't have to talk to myself anymore."

"Did you ever find another spirit? Another ghost?"

"Yes, I've seen them. But they never listen, they never stop what they're doing. I would say they just repeat things. Nothing more."

"That's strange."

"I considered it strange too. In my existence next to yours, I came to think about what made us different."

"You?"

"Well... us. Being twins makes us peculiar in this situation."

"Because we were one egg in Mom's womb?"

"It's a possibility that we are one soul in two bodies. It lasted some time. Three years."

The ghost spent the whole night talking with his brother. Like never before. Dagoberto told him about his existence as a lonely shadow, with no one to trust. He recounted key moments of Roberto's life that the ghost assured he had witnessed as a silent spectator. Roberto, confused and saddened by his situation, lamented the lost time that no longer belonged to them. The ghost warned him of something:

"You have to eat something... It's past lunch time."

"You'll see there's nothing in the kitchen."

"You know there's nothing in the kitchen."

"There must be something."

"How are we going to get money? Tomorrow we'll be hungry too."

Dagoberto was right, but because he used to suffer from hunger through him. A spot in the middle of the empty living room barely covered the food of the last few days. He had no food left.

"We will sell the house and start a business," Roberto decided.

"What if you start by selling that coin?" suggested Dago. "That way you'd have enough to get by while you find someone to buy the house."

"You're right. The sale process is slow."

He picked up the coin from the floor, examined it in detail and exclaimed:

"I'm not into jewelry or coins, but I think they could give me about five hundred dollars for this."

"But that's tomorrow... Find something to eat for today."

Roberto obeyed. He found some tortillas that were still edible and a tamal left over from the novenario. There was also coffee. Then he settled on the bed while his brother fluttered around the house like a restless child. In the morning, waking up groggy and needing to use the bathroom urgently, he was startled in the hallway by a voice:

"Good morning!" Dagoberto greeted, very cheerfully.

"Jesus! Don't scare me!"

"Ha, ha, ha... sorry."

"It's going to be hard to get used to this. I thought yesterday was just a dream."

"Well, you see it's not."

Roberto took a shower reluctantly. He felt strange knowing that in his most private, intimate moments he was never truly alone. That still seemed totally absurd to him. Then he changed his clothes.

"How do you change clothes?" Roberto asked.

"You do it. At this moment you see me with this shirt, just like the one you wore before showering. In a few moments my clothes will change like yours."

"We always end up dressed the same?"

"Yes, always."

"Seeing you is like looking at myself in the mirror."

They went out to the street in search of a place that bought gold. On the way they talked little.

"I don't want people on the street to think I'm crazy, talking to myself," Roberto warned.

They walked through part of downtown San Salvador and arrived at a jewelry buy-and-pawn shop called "Klondike", located on Arce Street.

"Why this place?" Dagoberto asked.

"Because in DuckTales, Scrooge McDuck said he met Goldie here."

"Here?"

"Well... not HERE here, but that's what the place was called. When I was a kid I always passed by this street on the bus. I read the sign and imagined it was here..."

"You're weird..."

"Am I the translucent one?"

They entered. Inside the store there was only a chubby old man with thick glasses, focused on a newspaper.

"Good morning!" Roberto greeted.

"Good morning!" the old man answered with a smile.

"I want you to appraise a piece for me."

The old man got up from his seat. He walked towards the counter and took a magnifying glass. He moved in slow motion; perhaps because of his age or an orthopedic problem.

His face lit up, as if he appreciated the arrival of a good business opportunity. Roberto searched in his pocket for the coin, examined it and handed it to the chubby old man, who exclaimed:

"Let's see what we have here."

He weighed the metal. His face showed admiration. From the drawer of his desk he took a liquid and let a drop fall on the side of the coin. He placed it on a scale. After a sigh of satisfaction, he looked at Roberto:

"Do you want to sell it?"

"First I want to know how much it's worth."

"If we're talking weight alone, don't take less than two thousand dollars. But I recommend you find a collector. Even though it's well preserved, it's clear the coin is ancient. The relief of the weeping woman can determine the date and the reason it was made. It could be worth much, much more."

"Hmm, for the weight... would you buy it from me?"

"Of course, without a second thought!"

"I'll think about it."

"As you wish."

Roberto left the store with a pensive face. Dagoberto asked, puzzled:

"Why didn't you sell it?"

"Didn't you hear him? It could be worth much more..."

"That 'could be' isn't going to give you any breakfast."

"If I kill my hunger today, I might not be able to kill it tomorrow..."

"What if you pawn it?"

"There's a chance they could shave off weight or fake it. I don't want to take risks. Besides, what the hell, the one who is alive is me. I should be the one worried about eating," Roberto snapped, annoyed.

"I'm hungry..." the specter murmured softly.

"You're hungry?" Roberto stopped, very surprised. "Yeah? And what do you eat?"

"Nothing... My hunger goes away when you eat."

"That is totally strange... but you have convinced me. We're going to get food, right now."

"With what money, if you didn't want to sell the coin?"

"We're going to the Cathedral. There I'll get some money."

They walked down the street. One block before the Metropolitan Cathedral they turned towards España Avenue. There they found a shop with religious objects in the window. Divino Corazon de Jesus said the sign at the entrance.

"Good morning..." Roberto greeted.

"Good morning. How can I help you?" a woman in her fifties answered with a broad smile.

"I've got a bargain for you," Roberto announced, while placing his mother's silver rosary on the counter. The woman examined it. Without another word, she said:

"I can't give you more than fifty dollars for it."

"Seventy-five, I want seventy-five," he demanded with a confident voice.

"Sixty."

"Seventy-five."

"Sixty-five."

"Seventy-five."

"Okay, but don't go around saying I scammed you."

"The one who will be showing off a silver rosary at church will be you. I won't tell anyone that I auctioned off a family relic."

"I'll give you ninety and neither of us will end up feeling remorseful."

They left the bazaar. Roberto headed towards the National Palace. Dagoberto looked at him strangely:

"I didn't know you had those negotiating skills."

"Neither did I. Tell me, what do you want to eat?"