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While
she
was
standing
by
the
fence
a
vendor
came
by
with
a
cart
of
iced
beer
and
,
hardly
thinking
,
she
said
,
“
Cerveza
Corona
,
por
favor
,
”
and
held
out
a
five
-
peso
note
.
The
man
flipped
off
the
bottle
top
and
poured
the
drink
into
a
paper
cup
with
an
Aztec
Eagle
logo
.
“
Muchisimas
gracias
,
”
she
said
.
It
was
her
first
beer
since
high
school
;
in
the
hot
Mexican
sun
,
it
tasted
wonderful
.
She
drank
it
quickly
.
A
few
minutes
later
she
saw
another
vendor
standing
by
a
circle
of
red
flowers
;
she
bought
another
beer
.
She
knew
she
should
not
be
doing
this
;
the
tournament
started
tomorrow
.
She
did
not
need
liquor
.
Nor
tranquilizers
.
She
had
not
had
a
green
pill
for
several
months
now
.
But
she
drank
the
beer
.
It
was
three
in
the
afternoon
,
and
the
sun
was
ferocious
.
The
zoo
was
full
of
women
,
most
of
them
in
dark
rebozos
,
with
small
dark
-
eyed
children
.
What
few
men
there
were
gave
Beth
significant
looks
,
but
she
ignored
them
,
and
none
of
them
tried
to
speak
to
her
.
Despite
the
Mexican
reputation
for
gaiety
and
abandon
,
it
was
a
quiet
place
,
and
the
crowd
seemed
more
like
the
crowd
at
a
museum
.
There
were
flowers
everywhere
.
She
finished
her
beer
,
bought
another
and
continued
walking
.
She
was
beginning
to
feel
high
.
She
passed
more
trees
,
more
flowers
,
cages
with
sleeping
chimpanzees
.
Around
a
corner
she
came
face
to
face
with
a
family
of
gorillas
.
Inside
the
cage
the
huge
male
and
the
baby
were
asleep
head
to
head
with
their
black
bodies
pressed
against
the
bars
in
front
.
In
the
middle
of
the
cage
the
female
leaned
philosophically
against
an
enormous
truck
tire
,
scowling
and
biting
a
fingertip
.
Standing
on
the
asphalt
outside
the
cage
was
a
human
family
,
also
a
mother
,
father
and
child
,
watching
the
gorillas
attentively
.
They
were
not
Mexicans
.
It
was
the
man
who
caught
Beth
’
s
attention
.
She
recognized
his
face
.
He
was
a
short
,
heavy
man
,
not
unlike
a
gorilla
himself
,
with
jutting
brow
ridges
,
bushy
eyebrows
,
coarse
black
hair
and
an
impassive
look
.
Beth
stiffened
,
holding
her
paper
cup
of
beer
.
She
felt
her
cheeks
flushing
.
The
man
was
Vasily
Borgov
,
Chess
Champion
of
the
World
.
There
was
no
mistaking
the
grim
Russian
face
,
the
authoritarian
scowl
.
She
had
seen
it
on
the
cover
of
Chess
Review
several
times
,
once
with
the
same
black
suit
and
splashy
green
-
and
-
gold
tie
.
Beth
stared
for
a
full
minute
.
She
had
not
known
Borgov
would
be
at
this
tournament
.
She
had
already
received
her
board
assignment
by
mail
:
it
was
Board
Nine
.
Borgov
would
be
Board
One
.
She
felt
a
sudden
chill
at
the
back
of
her
neck
and
looked
down
at
the
beer
in
her
hand
.
She
raised
it
to
her
mouth
and
finished
it
,
resolving
it
would
be
her
last
until
after
the
tournament
.
Looking
at
the
Russian
again
,
she
panicked
;
would
he
recognize
her
?
He
must
not
see
her
drinking
.
He
was
looking
into
the
cage
as
though
waiting
for
the
gorilla
to
move
a
pawn
.
The
gorilla
was
clearly
lost
in
her
own
thoughts
,
ignoring
everyone
.
Beth
envied
her
.
Beth
had
no
more
beer
that
day
and
went
to
bed
early
,
but
she
was
awakened
by
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
arrival
,
sometime
in
the
middle
of
the
night
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
coughed
a
good
deal
while
she
was
undressing
in
the
darkened
room
.
“
Go
ahead
and
turn
the
light
on
,
”
Beth
said
.
“
I
’
m
awake
.
”
“
I
’
m
sorry
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
gasped
between
coughs
.
“
I
seem
to
have
a
virus
.
”
She
turned
the
bathroom
light
on
and
partially
closed
the
door
.
Beth
looked
at
the
little
Japanese
clock
on
the
nightstand
.
It
was
ten
after
four
.
The
sounds
she
made
undressing
—
the
rustling
and
partly
suppressed
coughing
—
were
infuriating
.
Beth
’
s
first
chess
game
would
begin
in
six
hours
.
She
lay
in
bed
furious
and
tense
,
waiting
for
Mrs
.
Wheatley
to
be
quiet
.
*
*
*
Marenco
was
a
somber
little
dark
-
skinned
man
in
a
dazzling
canary
-
colored
shirt
.
He
spoke
almost
no
English
and
Beth
no
Portuguese
;
they
began
playing
without
preliminary
conversation
.
Beth
did
not
feel
like
talking
,
anyway
.
Her
eyes
were
scratchy
,
and
her
body
was
uncomfortable
all
over
.
She
had
felt
generally
unpleasant
from
the
time
their
plane
landed
in
Mexico
,
as
though
she
were
on
the
verge
of
developing
an
illness
that
she
never
quite
got
,
and
she
had
not
gone
back
to
sleep
the
night
before
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
coughed
in
her
sleep
and
muttered
and
rasped
,
while
Beth
tried
to
force
herself
to
relax
,
to
ignore
the
distractions
.
She
did
not
have
any
green
pills
with
her
.
There
were
three
left
,
but
they
were
in
Kentucky
.
She
lay
on
her
back
with
her
arms
straight
at
her
sides
as
she
had
as
an
eight
-
year
-
old
trying
to
sleep
by
the
hallway
door
at
Methuen
.
Now
,
sitting
on
a
straight
wooden
chair
in
front
of
a
long
tableful
of
chessboards
in
the
ballroom
of
a
Mexican
hotel
,
she
felt
irritated
and
a
bit
dizzy
.
Marenco
had
just
opened
with
pawn
to
king
four
.
Her
clock
was
ticking
.
She
shrugged
and
played
pawn
to
queen
’
s
bishop
four
,
trusting
the
formal
maneuvers
of
the
Sicilian
to
keep
her
steady
until
she
got
into
the
game
.
Marenco
brought
the
king
’
s
knight
out
with
civil
orthodoxy
.
She
pushed
the
queen
pawn
to
the
fourth
rank
;
he
exchanged
pawns
.
She
began
to
relax
as
her
mind
moved
away
from
her
body
and
onto
the
tableau
of
forces
in
front
of
her
.
