Next day before work Señior Colibrí tried again to withdraw money, but nothing happened. He couldn't understand it. Perhaps yesterday's unexpected bequest was a glitch, nothing more. As he hesitated the person behind him in the queue tapped him on the shoulder and he moved off shaking his head. On the way he looked at the new note with the image of Tonatiuh the sun god looking upwards at him.
Trudging in past the boss he clocked in. Carlos was sat by the smoking table drinking a coffee. They exchanged pleasantries, but there was something urgent on his mind. He was about to relate the story about yesterday's ATM withdrawals when Carlos leaned over and whispered in his ear, "So, did you enjoy the Aramanth?"
He stopped. What did he mean, exactly? There was a mischievous look to him, a twinkle of... he didn't know what.
"I have some more today."
"Carlos, I have to ask – you were joking, weren't you? About the blood."
"Like I said, it was huautli and the people who made it were cannibals, so..."
"Oh, come on. You're not seriously trying to tell me that the Aztec gods are..."
Carlos reached over and put a finger to his mouth, as if to silence him. "Shh... don't say another word. The gods are listening." He frowned. He was serious.
Somewhat taken aback, he looked at his friend and a tinge of fear crept into his heart. Was he serious?
Carlos broke into a laugh – a big, hearty stomach laugh that filled the room. In his guffaws he showed his teeth, blackened and crooked. Some were missing.
"I really had you going there." he interjected, "I swear – your face!" and continued with his cackling.
He wasn't hungry that morning. The combination of the night out and just the thought of the unappetizing meal of human sacrificial blood with amaranth revolted him. As he went on his rounds, keeping busy, his mind could not shake Carlos's laugh and his words from yesterday, "The gods are listening." Listening? To him?
It was ludicrous to even consider such a notion. To set such a thought to rest he stood still and crossed himself, right there and then, outside the Bancomer bank. By lunchtime, he was tired, but instead of heading back to base he laid down his broom, sat next to his nearly full cart and took it easy for one minute. It had been another cool day and although no one had brought out bags of garbage from their houses, he had already decided not to court that particular trade. He had been warned off it and, being an honest man worked only for the salary given him: it amounted to 2600 pesos each month – $195. Yet in his pocket he could feel the bulge of a little more than 10,350 pesos. He decided to go inside the bank and deposit the money into his account right away.
The lady at the counter saw him approach and gave an almost disdainful stare at his bright orange dayglo bib. He was used to it. She took his card and swiped it.
"Ah!" She turned to look at him and smiled. "I'm sorry, Señior... Colibrí, but your account has been suspended."
"Suspended? But why?"
"Failure to pay banking fees."
"But you can't – I have my savings..."
"I'm sorry. The bank sent you warning letters on... 22nd of last month and... 18th of this. You've had enough warning of the decision. We sent a final letter on Friday explaining the decision. Sorry." She handed back his card.
"So that's it, then?" he protested. "But I had 3576 pesos in there yesterday."
"I'm sorry, sir. Your account is in arrears. Thank you for banking with Bancomer bank. Next please."
"But I've been with this bank for fifteen years. I need this account–" he began to raise his voice. The teller looked over to the beefy security guard who began to walk towards the small man getting angrier by the second. "I wrote back to the bank. I said 'even God listens to those in need'." The guard grabbed him tightly by the arm and began to lead him out. "Doesn't customer loyalty count for anything any more?"
Outside, he returned to his cart, furious with the way he'd been treated. How could they do this to him? He hated them.
By the end of his shift, he returned to the depot. The boss was absent. He complained bitterly to whoever was listening about the bank – about his outrageous treatment at the hands of the corrupt capitalists! Sitting in the same seat was Carlos – as if he had not moved since this morning.
"Sit down, my friend." he said in a comforting tenor. "Is there anything I could do?"
He rattled off his bitter complaint, beginning with their letters, and his answer about God.
"I'm so sorry to hear all this. It truly is a travesty. You should write again and complain. Or perhaps..."
"Perhaps what?"
"Perhaps God has already listened."
"What do you mean?"
"My friend. You are a man in need, but you have also said God listens to such as you."
"To those in need, I said, those in need."
"Quite so, but tell me, did anything happen yesterday? Anything else? Anything 'unexpected'?"
"Well," he began, not feeling comfortable with his line of questioning, "well... as a matter of fact it did." In hushed, reserved tones he described the visit to the ATM and the withdrawals; yes they were unexpected.
"How do you think that happened, then?"
"I really don't know, Carlos, but it's lucky I did. I mean, they closed my account. But look–"
He drew out the wad of notes. Carlos hurriedly put his hands over the top and whispered, "In my experience nothing is down to 'luck'. You must hide this. Don't let anyone see it. It is a gift from God."
They sat together as tiredness crept through his limbs. After a half-minute of silence they could hear the sounds of the next shift crew arriving and decided to get their coats to leave.
"Listen, Señior, why don't you and I go back to my home together. We can discuss this further as we walk and I'm sure we can stretch our meagre dinner to include another soul."
"Thank you, Carlos." he gratefully said. "It's been a long day."
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