Eartheater

by Dolores Reyes

  I saw a cheerful girl sprint toward the water. It couldn’t be the sea, there was no sand. There weren’t houses or shacks or shanty barrios around it, like there were by the arroyo. All around I saw green, and the girl slipping into the water, smiling. But then her smile clouded as though she was drunk and her body thrashed as it sank, struggling to come back up. Hands, arms, and legs fought to get out of the water. The air vanished and she, the girl, was forgotten at the bottom of the water, which blotted her from my eyes. Before I opened them again—my eyes stung—I thought of how alike they were: the night and the watery depths.

  Didn’t think you’d call,” said a guy on the other end of the line.

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  At first he was quiet, like he’d been taken off guard, but then he went on to say he lived by Congreso and could come collect me if I wanted. Save myself a trip. I cut in:

  “Kid, where’d your girlfriend end up?” And when he said nothing, added: “Besides, I don’t leave my house.”

  The kid was fast, got there in under two hours. In my suite, he said:

  “Paraná de las Palmas and Paraná Miní, in Tigre.”

  He said they knew the place like the back of their hands, they’d been going for three years and it felt like home. That’s what had got them lost, ’cause after she threw herself in the water she never came back. He said his girlfriend had wanted to move there someday. He spoke of how beautiful the river was, so wide the trees shot up from the water. He said the handful of neighbors on the island, and the police, and the tactical divers had all searched for her.

  I must’ve looked like I didn’t understand, ’cause the kid went on to explain that tactical divers were the ones who swam the riverbed in search of bodies, by touch rather than sight. It made me sad to think of living hands reaching out to touch some part of the girl I’d seen jumping and smiling. Which was why I needed to go there. I’d tasted the earth and the water I’d been brought and another bottle would make no difference.

  “I need to see where your girlfriend jumped. My brother’s got a motorbike, he can take me.”

  “Can’t get there by bike. It’s an island, part of the journey’s by boat.”

  I settled into the chair, my body thrown back, and eyed him in silence. I was starting to regret my snap decision to help. As if sensing this, he said:

  “There’s a ferry, takes plenty of people. You don’t have to go on your own.”

  The kid probably talked for another hour, trying to sway me. Then he left, a little down in the mouth, thinking he’d come for nothing.

  My brother swung by for some tools and caught me on my own, legs lolling off the armrest, eyes fixed on my bare foot. He asked why I was lying around like that. And I said that I was lying around ’cause I didn’t know how to get the river to give something back. That what the earth had told me wasn’t enough. He looked at me and said: why not see a mãe-de-santo? Then he left for the shop.

  Not a bad idea, I thought. It would do me some good to ask and learn. I glanced at the bottle at the foot of the chair, my cell beside it, and closed my eyes so I could see the girl again, smiling. What could I do to get her back?

  I picked up my phone and dialed Ezequiel.

  The house was almost entirely white.

  “Cheer up, kid,” said red lips, and I felt as though one of those botanica figurines was walking toward me in bare feet. “You’re a bruja, too.”

  And she laughed. She was around fifty, black-haired and big-bodied, as if some awful force had needed her firm flesh to hang comfortably. A colorful beaded necklace fell down her white dress, splitting it in two. Her hair, almost as long as mine, moved to the might of her hips.

  Inside, the suffocating warmth of candles and a thick, incense-like smoke. The door shut behind me. On one of the walls, painted women walked into the distance with their backs to the water, leaving behind them gold prints in the sand. They looked like goddesses, and I liked that. I stared at them and, for some reason, thought of my body, picturing it in one of those dresses. The thought tickled me. I was a scrawny thing, not fit for a goddess.

  Though I couldn’t hear or see anyone else, I knew the mãe wasn’t alone. I tried not to seem frightened. I remembered what the boy had said:

  “Instead of looking for her, like I did every afternoon when I got out of school, I followed the river current.”

  I got up the courage and looked her dead-on. She smiled and said:

  “I’m mãe Sandra. What brings you here?”

  Kid showed us the way there. I listened as he gave directions to Ezequiel, listing a bunch of places I’d never heard of. Once he was done, Ezequiel signaled for us to get in the car. We said goodbye and drove off.

  “Tigre,” we were on our way to Tigre. I liked the sound of that name. Unlike “island,” which I didn’t rate at all: you need help from others to leave an island.

  We crossed the city in silence and got on the highway. Ezequiel seemed to notice I was nervous ’cause he told me to put some music on if I liked, that I could have anything I wanted that day. He made me laugh.

  “Anything I want?”

  I turned the radio to a cumbia station and though he tried to fake it, I could tell it was torture for him. I stared out the window. I could feel myself getting sleepy, but couldn’t take my eyes off the road.

  “You’ve got to go. The river wants a body,” the mãe had said. “Your journey there will be good. But not your arrival. There are forces working against you that do not want to welcome you. They’ll be waiting, but don’t worry. You’ll do good.”

  The mãe glanced at me and I glimpsed something in her eyes. She stopped laughing. Her silence was grating. I felt as if she was rooting inside me for something. Then, though I jerked back, she lay her hand on my head. Caught it beneath her palm like a bug, and I was trapped. Time passed; I don’t know how long. She released me with a faint smile. I was exhausted, as though years had passed in that one wordless moment. But it hadn’t been long and I didn’t know what had happened. I just knew something had.

  Ezequiel was quiet, his eyes staring ahead. The faster we drove, the sleepier I got. I put my seat back and lay down. All I could see now was the car roof, the window, and the sky, a couple of clouds drifting slowly in the distance.

  I wondered if we were being watched from above too, like the mãe had said.

  At some point, I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, Ezequiel was smoking through the open window. It took me a second to realize the car was parked. I rolled down the window and a sharp smell like wet earth wafted in. But wetter, watery. It was time for the ferry ride.

  We got out. Ezequiel locked the car and I glanced at the river. A cold wind blew in from the riverbank like it wanted to knock us over. It stung our lips. Still, there was no way not to watch the water.

  The ferry wasn’t what I’d imagined. It looked more like one of those cheap buses people took to La Salada market, except tossed on the water. Ezequiel called me. We had to get going. The boat was waiting. Whatever. Let it wait, I thought. But we climbed on and sat by the window, facing one another. The boat was packed. Moments later, it pulled out.

  Though I liked the color green, too much of it was draining. I tried to watch the islands passing us but my eyes drifted to Ezequiel. He wore sunglasses. He was looking at the view, and I was looking at him. His hair, his shades, his nose, his mouth, his neck, even the shirt he wore. I loved all of it. How stupid of me, I thought. I should’ve asked the mãe what the deal was with this dude. I chuckled to myself.

  He asked what was up. What do I know I shrugged and inched closer. Behind dark lenses, I glimpsed his eyes and, on his mouth, a wide smile. We stared at each other for the rest of the ferry ride. I could smell the same scent on him as when he’d driven me in his car the first time. My mouth watered.

  Half an hour later, we reached our island.

  “We’re here,” Ezequiel said, getting up.

  We edged across some wood planks a
nd treaded land again. I was grateful for the earth, sturdy beneath my feet. The ferry left and we were alone. Ezequiel strolled off somewhere I didn’t see, and I was left hanging by the riverbank, eyeing the water and hoping absurdly that I might learn something just by looking at it. I stared but couldn’t hold on to a thing. The river changed constantly.

  I felt someone calling for me. Ezequiel, waving. I turned to face the water and started down the island’s edge. There was tarblack soil visible on the fringes, covered in grass and muddled with roots like worms. Strange as it may seem, knowing I couldn’t eat it made me sad. But I wasn’t there for that. I already knew what had happened here.

  As I walked, I tried to picture the place where the girl had jumped, but Ezequiel kept calling and waving from a clearing among trees and large-leaved plants, so I headed toward him. As I drew near, dodging branches and bushes, a couple of cabins came into view. Raised on large wood stilts, they reminded me of the ones by the arroyo, except bougie.

  I stood opposite him and before he could open his mouth, asked:

  “Do you know how to swim?”

  Ezequiel laughed. He said he knew how to swim, ’cause they were all forced to learn at the pig academy. I liked that he put it like that for me, “pig.” And I thought of how he didn’t seem like one to me when we were alone.

  We’d been waiting a while for the girl’s boyfriend, who still hadn’t arrived. I needed him to show me exactly where she had gone under.

  Ezequiel acted like it didn’t matter, but he kept chain-smoking. As night fell, the insects got noisier and the air cold.

  We sat on the wood flooring around the cabin. Ezequiel said that he’d turn up any moment now. I didn’t say a thing, but I had the feeling we were going to spend the night there. It was too late for the guy to show. I was thirsty for beer. I asked Ezequiel if he could get me one and he said he’d had the same thought. It was no use though.

  “What do you mean it’s no use? I want a beer,” I said. He looked me in the eyes and smiled a brand-new, cocky sort of smile. He’d find me one, he said, and be right back.

  I sat around a while, my back against the wood wall, doing nothing but listen to the insects, which were all over the place now. I watched a bug with weird feelers slowly make its way across the floorboard toward my white shoes. I hated bugs. I pulled up my shirt collar and had a whiff. Now that, I liked. I’d showered that morning, like I’d seen it coming.

  I felt cold and went into the cabin. The bed stood in the middle of the room. It was massive and made up with nice sheets and a blanket the color of bare brick. I sat on the edge, watching the door Ezequiel would walk through with the beer. Crossing my legs, I started undoing my shoelaces.

  The first thing he did when he came back was stroke my head. I swatted his hand away.

  “Stop pretending to be a gentleman,” I said and we laughed.

  Ezequiel draped his jacket on the chair next to the bed. He handed me a beer and I sat up to drink it, covering my naked body with a blanket. We looked at one another. I didn’t want to smile. I didn’t want to make it too easy for him. He pulled off his sweater and drew close to me again. I didn’t pass the beer. He grabbed it, took a long swill, and set it on the bedside table. The bottle hit the lamp and for a moment the only source of light in the room flickered. Just then, Ezequiel held the back of my head and kissed me with a mouth that tasted of beer.

  His hand on my hair pressed me toward him while he drew me to his body by my bare waist. His hand felt rough, or maybe it just seemed that way to me, dizzied as I was by the booze and by his soft-lipped kiss. No part of him loosened its grip on me. I let myself be pulled toward him. His clothes felt cold. I wasn’t even wearing my thong anymore, so I tugged at his shirt, which was impossible to remove in the position we were in.

  Our mouths drew apart. We laughed some more.

  Ezequiel quickly pulled off his shirt and his hand returned to my scalp. I leaned back a little, resting my weight on my elbows, and he laughed again. Undoing his belt and zipper with his free hand, he edged down his pants. His other hand held the nape of my neck. I couldn’t move. He tugged at me. He pulled his cock out over his boxers and brought it to my mouth. I was drawn into a kiss so soft it was like kissing a tongue. I pulled his boxers off all the way. I liked the feel of his skin, which I clasped with my lips as his cock danced in my mouth, sinking deeper. Ezequiel watched me suck him off, and I watched him. He gripped my head with both hands and held them there for a moment. Then in a single motion, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and chased my waist with his hands, pulling me toward him.

  I lay down and spread my legs. Ezequiel kissed my tits, the size of closed fists. His mouth still at my chest, he took one hand to my pussy. He stroked me. His fingers were fire. I got wet. He carried on a while longer, then grabbed my hips again.

  He held me firmly with both hands, one dry, one wet. I wanted to watch him enter me. I wanted to stroke his back, suspended above my body. For a moment, Ezequiel looked me in the eyes. Then, slowly, his eyes and mine drifted apart. I didn’t see him thrust into me or press against me or grab my ass hard with both hands and thrust again.

  I could hear us with my eyes closed and feel the moment Ezequiel moved his moist hand from the top of my ass into my mouth, his body thrusting and shuddering violently as though he’d lost control. My heart went haywire and I pressed myself against him. Something deep inside me toppled. On his fingers, against my tongue, I could taste my own body.

  Though early, the sun had risen a while ago and was in full view.

  Everyone had gone on about the beauty of those islands and their growth, the vastness of the river. But it smelled musty to me. Like backwater.

  The river, hemmed in, refused to give her back. It hid her away like the night hides its creatures.

  We knew exactly where she’d jumped. Her boyfriend had turned up early on the ferry. He arrived, showed us the spot, then left as fast as he could, like he didn’t want to spend another second there.

  We were alone again, Ezequiel, the river, and me. The three of us headed in the same direction now, studying our steps.

  “I love you,” Ezequiel had said the night before. With my hair blanketing my face and his cock inside me, I stayed quiet.

  I was walking to the island edge now, thinking of the girl. Ezequiel had stayed behind and quietly followed me with his eyes as he let me do my thing.

  I sped up. I didn’t think things would turn out bad. I wasn’t thinking of later.

  “It’s one thing for another,” mãe Sandra had said.

  I turned around, looked at him, and he saw something in me that spurred him to follow.

  It was just one thing for another, sure, but that goddamned river wasn’t after flowers, or blood, or lit candles. It was after something else.

  The thought scared me, so I stopped thinking. I let my body take the lead. I just hoped Ezequiel actually knew how to swim.

  One thing for another. Getting back what was left of the girl was going to be like heading to the kiosk, handing over money, and getting something in return.

  I was miffed.

  I turned one last time to make sure Ezequiel was following, then I stopped thinking. I ran, leaped, lunged into the river.

  It was like a trance, something swept me away. I don’t know how long it lasted or what happened exactly; it was like falling asleep in the watery depths. I was enjoying resting there, feeling the fresh water seep into my body like a drug, but he pulled me out.

  When I woke up, I was in a bed. Not mine or the cabin’s, nor any bed I knew. Ezequiel was there. At first I didn’t speak or listen to him, but I could tell he was there. I could smell him. I could feel him move as he tried not to make noise. He wasn’t your garden-variety pig; he was a pig who looked after me.

  I stayed still, eyes shut. The sheets were stiff and scratchy like cardboard between legs deader than I was. I didn’t want anyone to talk to me yet. Through my eyelids, I felt the light. A light for sick peop
le.

  I wanted out of that shithole.

  Ezequiel had pulled me from the river. Saved me. I wanted to know now what’d become of the river girl. If there was any news. But I wasn’t ready to open my eyes, much less my mouth. My head was still full of rushing water and bitter cold.

  I opened my eyes. Again, light. Ezequiel saw me and came up to me, placed his hand on my arm. I wanted to tell him I was fine, that we’d better leave that dump, that I wanted to go home, but most of all I wanted to tell him that I wanted him, but I couldn’t make a sound.

  “It’s over,” he assured me. “The body showed up this morning. Drowned.”

  “Drowned,” he said, and the cold returned.

  I stopped trying to talk. I relaxed my body, let my head fall on the pillow. Shut my eyes. Drowned. It was all true. But it felt like too little. I saw red. Drowned.

  After I ate earth in her dream, Ana went strange. She was leery of me. I tried to chat as usual, but it wasn’t the same. There was silence. She studied my every move, and I felt as though she was keeping an eye on me, out of fear I’d eat earth again.

  One time she said:

  “I know you jumped in the river. It isn’t allowed.”

  She looked pissed. She waited for an answer but not knowing what to say, I kept my lips sealed and my eyes on the ground.

  She came at me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me somewhere I hadn’t been before. Down a path I didn’t recognize. Till I saw the sign: PANDA JUNKYARD.

  I thought we’d stop there, where she’d been found, her body naked and splayed like a frog staked to the ground. But no, we kept going till we reached the warehouse, a couple meters away.

  There was a door. Scared, I prayed it was locked. But Ana shoved it open.

  I didn’t want to go inside. I’d never felt so afraid in a dream. I wanted to wake up but couldn’t.