“Let go,” his father said, trying to pull his hand away from his. “You need to let go.”
“I can’t.” River felt his chest squeeze as he looked at his father, who seemed to be aging right before his eyes.
“You need to let go now, River. You can’t save us all.”
“I can’t save anyone.” He blinked hard against the gusts, trying to keep his eyes on his father’s.
“You can save yourself.”
“If I save myself she dies. You know how this works.”
My father nodded slowly, eyes turned sad. It was why he sent Sarah away knowing she’d survive, even though he wouldn’t. It was why he was so absolute in his decision. Staying, dying, giving into the inevitable, was the only way to save the woman he loved. And so, River didn’t let go of his father’s hand, even as they reached the Tree of Life. Even as they sat beneath it and looked out into emptiness. He heard the ocean waves nearing, but they weren’t calm and docile as they always were this time of year. They were charging, ready for war, ready to cause destruction. Wilfred lay his head on his son’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. River set his head on top of his father’s and gripped a chunk of soil beneath him, touching the leaves that had fallen from the tree, and he shut his eyes as he watched the Manor collapse and awaited doom. He could swear he heard the Devil’s laugh even now.
Chapter Thirty-One
Penelope
“Did you hear?” Dee asked. She sounded out of breath as I answered the phone.
“Hear what?” I looked at the time. I felt like I’d slept three days, but in reality, it had been . . . “Holy shit. I think I slept twenty-four hours straight.”
“Never mind that. Dolos is gone.”
I shot straight up in bed. “What?”
“It’s gone. The fog is gone. The island is . . . gone.”
My heart leaped out of my chest. “No, no, no, no, no. I have to call you back.” I hung up and ran into the bathroom.
When I was finished getting dressed, I ran out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. Wela was there, distributing leaves and setting them in different metal containers.
“Your mother is awake.” She looked up at me with a smile.
“Dolos Island is gone.” I felt like I was out of breath.
“I heard.”
“How? Why?”
“I . . . ” She stopped what she was doing and turned to me. “I don’t know. Does it matter? The darkness has been lifted once and for all.”
I stared at her for a long moment, then shook my head and ran out the door, climbing on my Vespa and revving it as hard as I could. I got as far as Dolly’s bar before I had to stop driving because there were too many people on the street to dodge. News cameras, reporters, tourists, locals, people everywhere. Everyone was talking about Dolos Island and what could have possibly happened. I ran to Dolly’s, heading straight to her behind the bar.
“Where’s River?”
“How would I know?” She took a step back and eyed me up and down.
“Has he called? Did he say anything about his apartment? Did he—”
She put a hand up to shut me up and reached behind her for an envelope. She handed it to me and watched as I ripped it open. There was a key inside it. I glanced up at her.
“What’s this?”
“From River,” she said, smiling. For a split second, I felt joy, but then she added, “He said he wanted you to keep it.”
I swallowed, unable to fight the tears that welled up in my eyes. I blinked rapidly and walked past her, toward the stairs in the back, stomping up until I reached the third floor and then the apartment. I unlocked and opened it, shutting and locking it behind me. It was empty, and it was then that I began to cry. The furniture was still there, but there was no sound, no movement, and . . . I ran to the bedroom . . . it was empty. Why would he leave me his apartment? Why would he leave me? I paced it. I went up to the window and looked out over the sea of people. The ocean was back, the waves had come well into the iron gates, flooding the buildings that stood near it. Even the Devil’s Chair seemed to be gone. My heart squeezed even more so. There was no Manor, no Dolos Island beyond the gates. Only water. It was an impossibility. I cried harder as the word came to mind, and then, I climbed in bed and closed my eyes to hang onto the smell of him as I wept.
Movement woke me up. I gasped when I saw him. Threw my arms around him when he neared. Buried my face in his neck and inhaled him, squeezing harder.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I didn’t say goodbye.” It hurt when I spoke the words, emotion clogging up my throat to the point of pain.
“It’s okay,” he whispered against my hair, holding me tight.
“Is this a dream?” I pulled back.
His smile was sad. His nod was brief. I shut my eyes and let the tears cascade down my cheeks. His fingers wiped them away and I opened my eyes to meet his gaze.
“I’m only gone physically, little witch.” His lip turned up. “You’ll still carry me inside you, deep within your bones.”
“I want you here.” I shook my head, tears continuously spilling. “In front of me. For real.”
He kept smiling. “One day, when you’re alone and afraid, I’ll poke you from within and you’ll feel me there, and then you won’t feel so alone, so afraid anymore.”
“I don’t want that. I want you here.” I cried harder. My shoulders shook. Tears fell, snot loosened. I didn’t care. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I want you here.”
“You’ll have me here.” He kissed the tip of my nose, my cheek, my lips.
I returned the kiss harder, more frantically, and undressed him as he undressed me. I made my way down his body, dragging my lips on every etch and every plane. He gripped my hair when I kneeled between his legs. I glanced up at him, reveling in that dark gaze. The weight of his lust propelled me into action, pulling him into my mouth and sucking, licking, moving until he groaned and gripped me tighter. He yanked me off of him and pulled me up with the same hand that was just encouraging the foreplay, and slammed his mouth against mine, unleashing his tongue into my mouth. His other hand found my breasts, my nipples, my clit, and rubbed as he mouth-fucked me, his fingers in my hair gripping to the point of pain as I cried out, soaking his other fingers. He let go of my hair to hold me by the waist and pull me on top of him. It started out hard—him slamming into me, punishing me, but then he turned me so that my back was flat on the mattress and he hovered over me, looking into my eyes and sliding in and out of me painstakingly slowly, as if memorizing every second of the moment, unwilling to let it go. I remembered it was a dream, and that maybe, possibly, River might be experiencing it as well. I brought a hand up to his face as he continued to move inside of me.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
He kissed me then, deeply, with an ardor and longing I knew I’d have for him as long as I lived, and when we found ecstasy, he smiled down at me.
“Your love sustained me and made up for a lifetime of loneliness,” he said. “I’ll love you for eternity.”
And then, he was gone. I gasped, sitting up in bed, sweating, and when I looked down, I wasn’t wearing any clothes.
“River?” I scrambled out of bed. “River?”
No one answered.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A few days later
“It’s a miracle,” the priest said. “Gia Guzman has made a full recovery.”
The church cheered. I clapped, but I wasn’t really there. I looked out the window I was sitting beside and saw someone out in the cemetery. I blinked. Mayra? I stood quickly and walked to the back of the church, not worrying about the people looking at me as I went. They all thought I was crazy anyway. Half of them had told me to leave the island. That I was a devil worshipper. Never mind that I was the reason they were still alive and thriving. Never mind that they depended on the very leaves I brought back for that. I rushed to where I’d
seen Mayra, but there was no one there. I looked around, left to right, right to left, and found nothing. With a sigh, I walked back toward the church. As I walked, I looked down at the unpaved road beneath my feet and saw track marks. Bare feet. They were all facing one way. La Ciguapa. I looked up in the opposite direction of which they came and saw a woman standing at the edge, where the tombstones met the forest. A young woman, dark, much younger than Mayra could ever be. Fabiola. She smiled at me, a bright smile, and bowed deeply. I didn’t begin to cry, but the sob stayed in my chest, heavy, making it difficult to breathe.
Divers had been surrounding the area where Dolos once stood, but it was gone. The Calibans, the Devil’s Chair, the seedy town, and its people. Just gone. I’d done a ton of Google searches on it and found very little being reported. It seemed that news of Dolos and Pan Island only made it as far as the surrounding islands and even then it wasn’t top news. The people in Puerto Rico, Cuba, Haiti, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic had bigger things to worry about, taking care of the aftermath of their own natural disasters.
“Is everything okay?” That was my mother.
I turned and nodded at her. She was wearing a black dress that hit her just beneath her knee, black heels, and her black hair up in a nice bun. She held out a hand for me, which I took, and walked back to the church.
“I hate that you’re leaving,” she said.
“I can’t stay. Too many things have happened.”
“I wish you’d talk about them.”
I smiled, squeezing her hand. She and everyone else. I hadn’t given Dee or Martín any details. I simply said I was grateful to be home. I smiled and offered both of them some of my grandmother’s famous tea when they came over. I’d set the intention. They’d forget where I’d been. They’d forget who I’d been with. Intention mattered. River said people had to want certain things in order for the tea to work, but he didn’t see it the way I did because he didn’t have Wela as a grandmother. She served it with the intention already made. I never wanted to forget that night all those years ago, but I did. I didn’t want to forget anything in my life, but I had, and now I remembered all of it clearly. I remembered the screaming matches in my house. I remembered the anger and the pain caused. I remembered how volatile they’d been behind closed doors and how I smiled through all of it the following day because I was forced to forget it.
I sat through the rest of the Mass with my mother, because despite everything, she was my mother and I loved her. When she went to her sister’s house with my grandmother, I kissed her goodbye, knowing it would be the last time I saw her. When I parked my Vespa in front of the house, I walked inside like a woman on a mission, packing bags of clothes and throwing them outside, far enough away from the house, before taking my own bag outside and setting it beside my Vespa.
I walked into the kitchen and threw everything inside the big tin trash bin on the kitchen floor before soaking it with gasoline and starting a fire inside it. I burned the leaves first, watching as they withered inside the bin, and then, I grabbed the container of gasoline and walked around the house, saying a prayer as I went.
By the time I reached the door and set the match, I’d made my peace with everything. I walked out and put on my helmet, grabbing my bag and reversing the Vespa to the street. I watched the flames for a moment, watched the black smoke as it took over. My grandmother would curse me for this. My mother would get over it and rebuild, but would probably be upset at me as well. I was fine with both of those things because despite that, I wasn’t going to let the Caliban Manor go down alone. Not when the house that caused it all was still standing.
Not in my lifetime.
Chapter Thirty-Three
One year later
Whoever said time eased pain was a liar. Every time I thought of River, my heart squeezed tighter than the last. I hadn’t even dreamed of him since I left Pan. A part of me wanted to make a tea with the dried-up remnants of leaves I’d found in the pocket of my jacket when I unpacked my clothes, but I couldn’t live with myself if I forgot him.
“It’s beautiful here,” Dee said, sighing as she sipped her drink.
“It is.” I smiled, looking out into the water.
“What made you pick Santorini?” Martín asked. “Was it our wedding?”
“Of course, it was your wedding.” I rolled my eyes, smiling as I shook my head. “Because I totally knew you were going to pick Santorini to elope in when I chose to move here.”
Dee laughed. “Well, thank God for you. You’ve made this elopement possible by booking everything for us. Maybe you have a future as an elopement travel agent or something.”
“After dealing with one bridezilla? No, thank you.” I raised an eyebrow.
“You deserve a medal.” Martín laughed. “The pictures have been nice. Who knew there were this many decaying houses on an island formed in two thousand BC?”
“Right?” Dee laughed. “The message boards have been going crazy with their talk about the Lost City of Atlantis.”
“Have you found it yet?” Martín asked.
“I haven’t looked.” I laughed. “Besides, they’ve found a lot of proof that Atlantis is deep beneath Doñana for me to even go on that hunt.”
I didn’t even bring up the fact that the mere thought of searching for a lost city that was now undersea made me feel like crying. As it was, crying was the only thing I seemed to do when I was sitting in my therapist’s office. I cried, I laughed, I cried some more. It was healthy to let it all out, she said. Still, all the therapy in the world couldn’t cure the loneliness I felt.
“Have you met anyone?” Dee asked. “A male anyone.”
“Not really.” It wasn’t a total lie. I had met a few guys here, but I wasn’t interested.
“You will. Soon you’ll meet a golden Greek god and he’ll sweep you off your feet,” Martín said.
I laughed and drained my drink. I wasn’t ready to meet anyone. I didn’t say that aloud because I didn’t want to have to explain myself or lie to my friends.
“So, what else is on your itinerary while you’re here?” I asked.
“Actually, we’re going to try to find Atlantis,” Dee said. “Which, now that you said that it’s in Spain, I guess we won’t.”
“I don’t think you’ll find it during a snorkeling trip.” I laughed. “But I’m sure it’ll be just as magical as you envisioned.”
“It will be. You should join us,” Martín said.
“When?”
“In an hour actually.” He glanced at his watch.
“Oh.” I pouted. “I can’t. I have a house to take a picture of. For the real estate company, not The Haunt.”
“Bummer,” Dee said. “But yay for making money.”
“Yay for making money.” I took some money out and Martín stopped me.
“It’s on us.”
“No way. You’re here for your wedding and I know Greece is spectacular, but don’t think you’re fooling me for a second by saying you’re not getting married here because of me.” I shot them a look.
“We couldn’t get married without you. We wouldn’t have met if not for you,” Dee said, raising an eyebrow. “By the way, Jose is also coming. He should be getting here later today.”
“Oh, fun.” I smiled wide and hoped I could keep it looking genuine.
I loved Jose, but I hadn’t given him the tea I’d made Dee and Martín. Jose would remember everything that happened. He’d remember River Caliban. He’d remember watching the tsunami hit. His house had been flooded by its remnants, after all. I gave Dee and Martín a hug and kiss goodbye, promising them I’d see them at the ceremony tomorrow and walked up the cobblestoned street and looked at the address in my hand. To my surprise, the address wasn’t too far away from Venetsanos Winery, which was where I’d just had lunch with Martín and Dee. Still, I climbed on my Vespa and drove the rest of the way, blinking away the sand that hit my eyes as I drove. It was pretty secluded, as far as houses in Santorini went. I s
topped in front of the gate and pushed the button to ring the bell.
“Hello?” It was a female voice.
“Hi, I’m Penelope Guzman. I’m here to take pictures of the property.”
The gates opened in front of me before I even finished my sentence and I drove in slowly, stopping just past the gates and getting down to take pictures of the lot. There was a huge circle in the middle that looked like a helicopter landing pad. To the right, there was a covered area for cars, and way ahead, there was a blindingly white house. It was similar to most of the houses here, whitest of whites overlooking the bluest of blue water. A woman with long, dark brown hair stepped out of the house and waved at me. I hopped back on the Vespa and drove it to the carport, parking it beside a small white BMW.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, rushing to take the helmet off and hang it from the handle.
“It’s no problem at all,” she said, smiling as she shook my hand. “I’m Berenice.”
“Penelope. As you know.” I smiled back. “This place is beautiful. Secluded but beautiful.”
Fables & Other Lies Page 18
