The Queen of the Cicadas

by V. Castro

  Instead I brushed away the crumbs, and crumbs that didn’t even exist, on the other side of his mouth. I wanted to touch him.

  “White wine?” I stepped back to regain my composure before I did something impulsive, because impulse control was a problem most of my life.

  “I like it all. And I’ll try anything.”

  Before either of us made a move, I stepped away to grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and a blanket from the storage bench in front of the kitchen window. We walked to the tree with only a few visitors that day. The path was no longer brown weeds, but a pebbled walkway lined with crosses, photos and idols of the La Virgen and Mictecacíhuatl.

  It’s not okay to straddle and make out with someone you met hours before in front of strangers, so I kept my hands to myself but let my eyes tell him I was available if he wanted me. We chose a bench away from the others, who wandered around. The conversation, recounting our lives, poured as easy as the Chenin Blanc we drank over the next few hours. When the crowd thinned after sunset and our wine was finished, I felt comfortable enough to ask him something personal.

  “Why did you buy the church, really? Why Mictecacíhuatl?”

  He slouched on the bench so that his head rested on the back edge. He looked at the stars, which were bright and clear because of the remoteness of the property, the darkness. We kept the lights to a minimum, using solar Christmas lights strung randomly on benches. The magic here needed to be preserved. His beautiful face and full lips made for kissing were softly illuminated.

  “My roots are Jewish and Mexican. Jews don’t have a definitive answer for an afterlife. When I saw that video with the Queen peering from the bathroom, her voice, everything I believed was challenged. So, I called on her in a mirror and I saw my death. I was in a hotel room after a bad meal of room service and half a bottle of wine. It was awful. I’m forty-five years old with no children and an aging family. I’ve lived a life most people dream about but none of it mattered and no one could save me from fate. I’m retired now. I spend my free time cycling, working with charity, investing in projects to save mankind one day, and now this church.” That was when he turned to face me. All my self-control was needed not to fuck up this moment and jump him. “She brought me to you.”

  I know he didn’t mean me; he meant this place, but I couldn’t shake the feeling those stars were witnessing a story we didn’t know we were characters in. We sat looking at each other with nothing else to say. The blanket wasn’t big enough to cover us both and I shivered from the freshness of the night, or maybe it was the cold nuclear fusion happening between us. “I should probably go. You think I can get an Uber out here?”

  “Not a problem.”

  He managed to get an Uber quickly as he walked me back to the house that I wished he was staying at. We were not taking guests when he tried to arrange accommodation at the farmhouse. The receptionist didn’t recognize his name and I blessed her for that because I wanted him more than ever. But I knew I needed more time to heal my emotional wounds. To be happy alone.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow night, but I would like it very much if we could keep in touch. I can’t remember the last time I sat and spoke to someone like this. My girlfriend – soon to be ex – and I haven’t really spoken in a while. Relationships can be lonely places. But can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure.” I was begging the Queen he would ask to kiss me.

  “Can I leave my bike here? Just until I’m settled?”

  Damn. “Of course. Leave it on the porch and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks. Here’s my phone. Why don’t you give me your contact information?”

  Speechless and aroused, I typed my number then followed him on Instagram. “Sandwiches when you get back?”

  He laughed, standing close to me. “It’s a date.”

  I watched him climb into an Uber and leave.

  * * *

  Hector returned to the farm tan and glowing like he had spent months on a cruise ship sipping cocktails by a pool. Love looked good on him.

  “I’m in love and I want to have that baby,” he declared over coffee and gifts he brought back for my son and me.

  We began the process of IVF while Arie and I tried to keep the relationship in the friend zone. I stared at his photos with a desire to reach out and touch him. It only led to me pleasuring myself, coming hard, thinking about what it would be like to take him between my legs, that mouth sucking me to climax. I’d finish feeling more frustrated and grumpier than before. Girlfriend. Soon-to-be-ex, I grumbled, my insecurities getting the best of me. She was probably half my age with her natural beauty still intact. I shifted my attention back to my real life and not the imagined one in my head. I focused on ridding myself of jealousy and envy. Both as awful as soot on my soul.

  Veronica was busy with impending motherhood, work and her marriage. I would go days without my emails or texts being answered, but I understood her distance. I had been there. Once the baby arrived, I would visit, but not expect much from her. Motherhood is a sprint from day one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hector and IVF. From what I read it would be a long process of false starts, tears, all mixed up with hormones. Besides my son and work, I didn’t want any distractions. It was grueling and emotional. Trying to conceive, like wanting something above all else and not getting what you want, is true suffering. He suffered more than me, but seeing the disappointment on his face every time we failed cut me.

  Arie inevitably became a distraction from this. His texts, photos and emails. We were electronic pen pals who really wanted to fuck. Arie was like me; relationships did not come easy for him. Work had prevented him from putting down roots in any one place long enough to focus on one person. When every city introduces you to new people, the mind and eye forget the heart is somewhere else. When your soul has been stripped enough times, it becomes as restless as a ghost. Ain’t no pinning it down. We were both tired of broken promises, so we didn’t make any to each other.

  Then I received a text I am not ashamed to say I was happy to receive. There was no longer a girlfriend. I couldn’t wait for him to return.

  We agreed love was exhausting so we were content with each other’s company, hands and lips. I said friend zone, I didn’t say no intimacy zone. Everything except sex, like we were in high school. It was the healthiest romantic relationship in my life.

  Hector would wink at me when the three of us would bump into each other in the kitchen in the morning. I spared him no details, and he took it all in like a gossip magazine. He knew there was no way I could become pregnant with Arie because I was saving that for our doctor’s appointments. Every month I emerged from the bathroom to an expectant Hector only to give him disappointing news. Every month I bled.

  It took six months for the church to be refurbished. It was only by Arie’s pockets and watchful eye that a stunning sanctuary worthy of pilgrimage and a queen was created. Every Friday there would be a mass of sorts for people to sing and share their stories of heartache and hope, a never-ending festival for the living and the dead to be as one. There were no barriers to who could attend as long as they had an accepting heart. Mictecacíhuatl did say she wanted everyone.

  The night before the church would be unveiled to the public, Arie invited me to be the first to see it. We went at eleven p.m., when most of the visitors had gone. The bones of the exterior remained the same, except all the broken pieces were replaced and there was a new roof. A coat of fresh white paint made the walls glow. The simplicity felt welcoming. I had to catch my breath when I walked through the door. It was better than all the megachurches, and even though it was not nearly the same size, I had the same awe as I did for the cathedrals in Europe, created for the same reason as this one: to inspire. All my senses prickled and felt stimulated at once. The wood that was chipped and rotting away was completely restored to a golden amber varnish that felt like f
ire in the candlelight. Pale lighting encased in colorful glass orbs blown in Mexico hung from the rafters like planets. Murals of saints painted by Mexican artists decorated the walls. Dried herbs filled the entire place with a sweet, earthy scent. In the front was an altar with fresh flowers and candles. On the floor lay soft bedding similar to a futon. He knew me well enough to bring a basket filled with food and wine. From his phone he controlled music that played from speakers mounted on the walls.

  I didn’t want to eat or drink unless it was his flesh or fluids. We had been in this unspoken tug of war and flirtation that left me in knots night after night. Between the stolen lunches, dinners and texts, I simply couldn’t wait any longer. The fooling around wasn’t enough. Hector and I were taking a break from IVF. It didn’t look like anything would happen and we agreed he should find someone younger.

  All my life I’d been favoring instant gratification. This was the longest I had waited for anyone. Tonight, there would be nothing left of each other. I needed him to devour every inch of me. It would be here, in her house, under the light of the glass and the warmth of a rededicated church. As he opened the wine, I placed one hand on his hip, grabbed the bottle, and placed it on the altar. His large hands pulled me close; the firmness of his erection against my body caused my growing excitement to ache. For months I had been choking on my arousal, opting to pleasure myself with his photos instead of scrolling through bad late-night porn on my phone.

  He was easily twice my size, with solid brown skin like my own. Hair covered most of his chest. There was no escaping his flesh as his cock crushed me closer to orgasm with every thrust after all this time. The rhythm of our fucking kept time with music by Maluma playing on a loop. We had all night, which was just enough time to carry out half the fantasies that I used in my bed when I needed to get off and yet still felt frustrated despite experiencing every other sexual act with him. The reality was infinitely more pleasurable than the fantasy. Most of my existence was fantasy anyway. Every part of him tasted more delectable with him locked inside of me. Our bodies moved with ease as the sweat lubricated our skin in celebration of the Queen who had brought us together. Just like he said the first night we met.

  On my hands and knees as he glided in and out of me from behind, I looked to the mural of Mictecacíhuatl, remembering how much she excited me. I felt dizzy with pleasure and pain, with his cock becoming more engorged as he neared climaxing. In that moment I sensed she was with us. The candles dimmed suddenly. My flesh prickled. He pulled out and flipped me to my back.

  With my legs resting against his chest as he pumped inside of me, Mictecacíhuatl made her presence known. She hovered behind Arie. Her face floated just above his right shoulder. While one of her hands traced his bicep and forearm, the other ran down my leg, causing me to shudder. The overwhelming need to orgasm from her touch and his cock stroking me made me feel as if I couldn’t breathe. My desire for both of them strangled me in ecstasy. If only the three of us could be stripped of our flesh and intertwine ourselves into one. Intimacy on a cellular level in a body that was as temporary as a condom. My hand moved to between my legs as I watched him and the Queen. Her black eyes beckoned me to allow her to pull me through to another place we cannot feel or see. His jade eyes widened when her hand moved between his legs to gently massage his testicles. Never have I experienced that degree of excitement as I submitted to pleasure. The fated love between us sparked and bloomed in the center of my clit and scattered across the nerves in my thighs until it reached my throat. I cried out from the fallout. I couldn’t help myself.

  If nirvana existed, I had found it. My orgasm didn’t want to end. Instead I continued to buck my hips harder, stimulating my clit with my fingers as I exploded again, looking at my beautiful Arie. He cried out with the Queen still behind him. Her tongue licked his ear followed by a kiss on his neck, which bulged with veins. Then she was gone. Six months I had waited for him and that sexual encounter. It was worth the wait. Arie would remain in my bed from that moment on.

  * * *

  The New Church of Mictecacíhuatl opened to the public on a Saturday to a crowd that couldn’t be fully accommodated by the small town. It was a global event that attracted more people by the day. Hector worried about the protesters even though Arie hired private security. Just as people wanted to be part of something never experienced in their lifetime, there were those who wanted to see this new way of thinking destroyed. They were vicious trolls attached to their hate because that was their identity. That was until Milagros herself, La Reina de Las Chicharras, chased them off.

  Clashes occurred more frequently as the political heat was turned up to match the heatwave that was occurring globally. The protesters showed up one night during an impromptu live performance by a popular band that didn’t announce they would be there. It reminded me of Nirvana doing their iconic MTV acoustic set. Some scumbag shouting insults threw a flaming bag of shit into the peaceful crowd doing their best to ignore the bigots and just focus on the music. Before the bag could harm anyone, Milagros, La Reina de Las Chicharras, appeared. A loud gasp escaped the crowd followed by phones lighting up. She caught the bag, extinguishing the flames upon impact with her hand. The ones who were seated cleared a space around her. She ignored them. Her bruised face with only one eye open stared at the protesters. The sores around her neck from the rope leaked blood that covered her white shirt and dungarees. She looked just as she did upon her death in 1952. Her mouth opened, unhinging her jaw.

  “This is what your words look like. This is the form it takes and now you will have to face it! Milagros, La Reina de Las Chicharras!”

  She walked towards the people previously spewing hate with her big boots thudding hard against the ground. Insects chirped wildly. The protesters screamed as they ran to their vehicles, dropping signs and guns. With all the power of Sodom and Gomorrah, she shrieked, calling out a black cloud of wasps from their nests that coated her body like badges. The nests opened like gills on a fish, releasing the little venomous occupants. The creatures had their targets in sight and did not leave until the protesters were injected with their venom.

  Milagros turned to face the crowd behind her. Some people covered their eyes, afraid of what they had just witnessed. But she appeared as she did before leaving Mexico. Her expression was that of a saint you see in paintings and a faint glow ringed her body. Then she was gone. It was all caught on video. No one dared to return to the church or the ceiba tree to pick a fight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hector and Benny wanted to start the IVF journey again, together. I’d already begun to spot, with my womb painfully cramping and my period due. I told Hector to continue to look for younger surrogates who might bring him closer to his dream of a family. As I waited for my period to start, I found the smallest cicada shell left on my dresser next to my bottle of folic acid. Two bloody fingerprints were on each side of the insect’s head. Even before I touched the delicate thing, I could feel the vibrations coming from it. There was something inside. I flipped the casing over, careful not to crush a single part of the body. Within the shell there was a soft object that resembled a string, but upon closer inspection, it throbbed. I could feel her. Not Milagros; the other. I didn’t know what to do with it except keep it safe. Without pause or thought, I took the small body and placed it in my mouth. As I swallowed, I envisioned the red string threading into my own flesh and becoming one with me. Maybe it would take over. I am just a vessel.

  Another unexpected turn by fate or a goddess.

  * * *

  The four of us cracked open the second bottle of wine with the roast chicken Arie prepared for dinner. It was a relaxed evening of sharing stories and breaking bread. Benny had just told some joke when my head began to spin. I had felt like that before but not with that small amount of wine.

  “Excuse me.”

  I stood to use the toilet when the smell of the roasted meat curdled in my nose a
nd stomach. The churning food moved quickly up my pipes until I vomited on the floor next to the table.

  “Belinda, are you okay?” Arie grabbed napkins for me, with Benny and Hector looking on.

  I knew what this was. “Hector, we should see the doctor.”

  Benny ran out the door with Hector to the Rite-Aid, which was still open. They returned with a plastic bag filled with tests. Benny, the doctor, reassured me it could be anything.

  I sat on the toilet, unable to pee the one time I needed to. I squeezed my eyes and my pelvis until I peed enough to saturate the stick. I waited three minutes then looked. I smiled, happy for Hector. I could give him this gift, until I realized Arie and I were having non-stop sex like foolish teens, not always using protection.

  I pensively walked out of the bathroom with the stick in my hands. Hector knew me well enough to know the answer. His eyes grew large as he touched my shoulders gently.

  “Please tell me….”

  I nodded. Before I could say any more, he and Benny embraced, grabbing each other’s faces for a deep, passionate kiss before burying their heads in the crook of each other’s necks.

  “I love you,” said Hector in a muffled voice against Benny’s shoulder.

  “I fucking love you,” Benny replied.

  I kept silent while they enjoyed the moment. Then I looked to Arie, who I could clearly tell was happy for the men, but wondered what further tests might reveal.

  * * *

  Before long I was miserable and couldn’t keep food or water down for more than a few hours. Standing for too long caused me to sway like a drunkard even though I had been sober since the test showed positive. The years made me forget how physically challenging pregnancy could be at times. Benny urged me to take a Harmony Test, which would give me information about the baby before the usual twelve-week scan. The wait for the results was excruciating for both Hector and me. Arie did his best to support me as if I carried his child.