Queen of the Donut Palace
By Steven Hunley
Claudia
She was in her early 20’s when I first met her. She was very beautiful. She had magnificent eyes, and skin so fair it could only have graced a girl from Sinaloa. In fact, the only way to describe it was to say it glowed. Equally from Mexico were her high cheekbones, a sign of her Aztec heritage. The combination of cheeks and fair skin was decisive. She was slim, rather tall for a Hispanic girl, with a wide expressive mouth and dazzling white teeth. When I first saw her, her hair was a rich dark brown, almost black, with blond highlights running through. She was definitely alluring. The fire in her dark eyes, the warmth of her smile, the seductiveness of her movements, suggested so much passion that it wasn’t quite fair. She had wicked combinations. She combined reticence with articulateness, stubbornness with intelligence. Her weapons, for both offence and defense, were her eyes and her smile. If she turned her eyes on a man and withheld the smile, even the hardest would melt, like wax from a candle. If, on the other hand, she combined them with the smile, even the toughest would fall under her spell. Either way one could say that both her look and her looks were devastating. She was as they say, a woman to be reckoned with.
She was born in Mazatlan. While still young her family moved north, first to Tijuana, then to L.A., and finally settled in Compton. Her father walked off one day, right after her quinceanera, never to return. To support her brothers and mother, she got a job in a donut shop, the Donut Palace. It was owned by a Cambodian who despite the fact he was ex-Khymer Rouge, was known throughout the neighborhood as Chino. Many other Hispanic girls had worked there over the years but she was the best. Her being bilingual, hard working, and pretty was good for business, and kept her in Chino’s favor.
If she was late, he kid her mercilessly,
“One more time Claudia and you know what I’ll have to do.”
“Yeah Chino, you’ll go get a rope, string donuts on it, and torture me.”
Then they, and anyone else who was listening, would laugh. Working at the Donut Palace was good. She was happy and would have worked there forever. Then something bad happened. On her way home one night, two wannabe gangsters accosted her. One stood in front of her blocking her way, and one stood in back. The one in front had a gun. She could see the moonlight glinting off the barrel.
“Well girl,” he said, “it’s time to give it up.”
That didn’t sound too good. The other one, who’d probably been watching too many movies said,
“Yeah, Chica, stand and deliver!”
Thinking quickly, she ripped the gold chain form her throat, and threw it at their feet. While they grappled for it she ran away. In that neighborhood the police don’t look too hard or too long, so nothing became of it, only the oceans of tears she cried in her Momma’s lap.
From that day on security became her issue. She searched for it everywhere, but never seemed to find it. She couldn’t feel it and couldn’t see it, until one day, when on two feet, it walked right into her shop.
Eduardo
He was, as they say, tall, dark, and handsome. By dark I mean he had black hair, rather short but nicely cut, and his beard, when he didn’t shave close, would add a blue cast to his rather square and rugged jaw. Also dark were his close set eyes with long lashes. He was over six feet, his features regular, and his body in good shape. He could have been mistaken for a boxer, which he wasn’t, because he was something else. He was a cop. Even out of uniform he looked like a cop, if you know what I mean. He saw the world in extremes, in black and white, in good and bad. To him, everything was legal or illegal, everyone either a perpetrator, or a victim, with nothing in between. This made his decisions simpler, and with that, life itself more simple. That’s how he liked it.
She took to him right away. He had a winning smile, and looked so smart and fit in his uniform. He seemed so confident and relaxed yet official at the same time. She respected his position. He was so steady, so consistent. As for him, he felt her magnetism. She would greet him and always with the smile. That was all at first, but it was more than enough. Soon he was by twice a week, then even on weekends. He would come in on Sundays when he was off and read the Wall Street Journal after Chino was finished with it. He liked how the stock prices went up and down. Often they would bet on the outcomes, as Cambodians, as is well known, are great gamblers. One time Chino asked Eduardo for some advice. Tagging crews from the Segundos and Lime Hood were constantly marking up the wall near the drive-in window.
“Just put in a camera Chino,” he advised smugly,” That’ll catch the bastards.” And that was that.
After a while she knew how he liked his coffee, two sugars and cream. She knew his favorite donuts, powdered sugar. After a bit longer she even fixed his coffee for him herself. He would come in with his partner and display his familiarity with her. When fixing his coffee she’d ask,
“Eduardo is it sweet enough?” though she knew it was.
“Not as sweet as you, Reyna.” he’d reply.
After a few weeks he finally asked her out and she consented. Eventually, after several dates they became an “item.” She referred to him as her “novio” and that was that. She felt secure at last. Everything about them seemed so close, and at first it was. But it was not to last.
The hint of what was to happen happened during aftermath. It was in the morning, a day off for him, and waking early, when the sun barely up, they made love. Afterwards, as she lay there on the pillow, her chin supported by her hand, she gazed at him lovingly. What a man he was! So strong. Strong eyes, strong jaw, strong chin. But what was this? A scar that she had never noticed before, ran up under his jaw and slightly up under his chin.
“What’s this?” she said, softly running her finger playfully along the line.
“That?” he answered, “It’s nothing, just nothing.”
“It’s nothing?” she queried, “What do you mean?”
“It’s nothing, just nothing.” he said firmly.
From the tone in his voice she knew not to enquire further. He rolled over and faced the wall. Although there was a window there she knew he wasn’t looking out.
“Just forget it,” he said, and for a while she did.
But days later, small things, little things, began to bother her. She would, for instance, ask him about work that day.
“How was it today, Eduardo?” she’d say after a kiss.
“Same ol’ same ol’ he’d reply.”
Even when he did talk he never seemed to give her the details she wanted. From his viewpoint he was protecting her. He was a man who knew the cruel world. He didn’t carry his work home with him. He’d seen many bad things and protected himself by walling them off, by compartmentalizing them. He would box them up and throw the box away as far as possible. In this way he protected himself from the evil. He would protect her too. He’d do both of them a favor. He was so used to this process that he was quite out of touch with his own feelings, and cut off. But at the same time he was cut off from her as well. For her, it was the tip of the wedge. She didn’t know it at the time. She only knew that he didn’t want to let her in. A woman may want to be protected but she wants to set the limits of her protection. When they want in they want in. After all, who was it that opened the box? Pandora. Where men are hesitant, women are often bold.
To Eduardo, physical closeness meant intimacy and they had reached that some time ago. He viewed her questions about his mental state as intrusive, even offensive. Still, they regarded themselves as lovers, even though a barbed-wire fence had been put up between them. It existed only in their unconscious but it was there none the less. Unfortunately this fence of the mind wouldn’t, like a real fence, grow rusty and duller with time. The barbs, in fact, would grow sharper.
Then one day, a fateful call in their game of love was made. She’d just come back from work. She kissed him a greeting.
“Gee Baby, (he called her Baby) you smell like powdered sugar.”
“I didn’t notice,” she replied, “I guess I’m around it so much I can’t tell.”
“You always smell like powdered sugar Babe.”
And that was all that was said, but it was more than enough. Two weeks later, tired of waking at 4:30, tired of coffee and donuts, and especially tired of powdered sugar, she quit her job.
In the few weeks it took her to find a new one the tension between them grew. Although they were still close physically they became farther apart in their minds. Eduardo became more distant each time she probed. His own feelings were out of his reach, and unknowable, so how could he express them to her? He became resentful of
her attempts to be closer. She thought now that the physical intimacy was complete; the real intimacy was to begin, but for some reason he was resisting. Then she got a new job, a job at the 99.
The 99 was easy for her. There were various duties, more customers, and no powdered sugar at the end of the day. And it was busy. Even the pay was better. Eduardo came by one day and she showed him the store proudly. Soon she’d learned all the tasks and mastered them. She was popular with all the customers, both men and women, and the workers too. Everything seemed alright until Alex walked in.
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