"I know. She seemed out of it."
He looked relieved to not be the one bringing it up. I'd crossed this bridge with so many people I felt like I should charge a toll. People never knew quite how to react to her at first. Should you treat her like a child, an idiot, or an adult? The correct answer was usually somewhere in between.
"Yeah, she was different," he said, noticing the noisy balloons in the room tangling in the invisible air currents of the room. He got up and worked on untangling them.
"So, did Abuela—I mean, my grandmother—did she say where she was going?"
"She said there was some sort of emergency at home. She said she'd call you." He gave up on the balloons and sat down on the chair again. "I thought you'd have heard from her by now."
"Well, like I said, I guess I need to make a few calls."
"Absolutely, go ahead."
"Eliah. I need a minute here to make these calls."
"Oh, right." He stood up and brushed away his indentation on the bed. "I'll be down the hall."
I gave him a look I usually reserved for kids who were playing on the ropes instead of following directions.
"I mean in the waiting room. Right. Because you need someone to drive you home, that's what the nurse said." He grinned, beaming like a homecoming king. "I did tell your grandmother I'd take care of you."
No one answered the phone at the house in El Paso. I called the neighbors and the service Margie worked through. No one had heard from any of them in the last couple of days. No one had heard of any emergency either, other than my accident.
It was a long drive to El Paso, and I figured if they had gone home, it was possible they were still on the road.
I packed my few things into the plastic bag the hospital gave me, remembering the cassette tape I'd slipped under the cover of my bed. I tucked it into my jacket pocket and called for the nurse and a wheelchair.
In a couple of hours, I was on my own way to my apartment. Eliah drove, pulling over periodically as waves of nausea hit me. I mentally slid Eliah over to the friend side of the life abacus, since throwing up on a drive home was something you would only do with a friend.
Once we got to my apartment, Eliah hung up my jacket; then he headed over to the manager's office and returned with my mail. I leaned back on the couch, fighting the swirling in my stomach that ran a counter rhythm to the one in my head.
"Okay, Eliah. It's time. Get out of here," I said, gesturing toward the door.
He put his hand on my knee and it felt heavy, smothering. "Are you sure?"
I managed a weak smile. "I need to sleep."
He was reluctant, but stood up and headed for the door. "Okay. I'll be back tomorrow and we'll get the rental. Do you think you'll be up to driving by then?"
I had no idea. "Sure."
After he left, I called Abuela. The phone rang endlessly. What next? I thought of calling the police but wasn't sure what to say. Were they missing? Or just not home yet?
I looked up a few more phone numbers on the computer when I heard a knock at the door. Beverly from the management office, with her impossibly long nails and spiky auburn hair, stood on the landing holding a half-dozen envelopes and sales circulars.
"Hey, Kati. Sorry, girl, Connie left this whole stack in the wrong box. That guy said you needed to rest, but I'm off on vacation next week, remember? I'm going to Vegas with that singles group I tried to get you to join?"
"Riiight..." I said, trying to keep up, my head starting to throb all over again.
"Anyway," she continued, "there is no way Connie will remember to bring it by. Shoot, she can't remember her keys half the time. Good luck with that while I'm gone. Do you remember we had to call the locksmith for her car two weeks ago? Again. He's going to think we're hitting on him. Well, he is a little cute, but on the heavy side. I like them thinner. You know how they fatten up when you marry them. You want to give yourself some room to work with."
She laughed heartily and I felt light headed for a second. I blinked hard, trying to focus.
"Anyway, I thought I'd bring these by before I went home." She leaned in for a better look at my swollen face. "Geez, girl. You look awful. You might want to try some of this new eye shadow and cover up I've got."
She started to reach in her purse, but I snatched the stack of mail from her.
"No, it's okay. I have to lay around anyway," I said. Beverly's natural skin hadn't seen daylight since the late 90s. I preferred to let my pores breathe, even if bruised.
"Okay. Well, if you need anything, call me. But remember, I'm gone next week. Guess it is a good thing you didn't sign up for the trip, right? Okay, whatever you do, don't lose your keys!"
"Got it," I said, waving goodbye.
I closed the door with relief, then headed to my desk, sinking heavily into the chair. I began culling through the stack. A padded envelope was near the top, nestled in a collection of grocery store coupon pages. The writing on the label was precise and familiar, yet I couldn't quite place it. The postmark was dated a week ago and there was no return address. Inside was a single cassette tape and a note.
Trust no one. Listen to this when you are alone and in a safe place. They are watching you and me. I love you, Katarina.
Always,
Mom.
Antonia
Antonia
The past is not a package one can lay away. ~Emily Dickinson
Chapter 8
"Katarina. Let's see. Today is April 11th, 2012. By the time you hear this, I'll have gone, again. It's funny to think of it that way as if I will be leaving on a journey to some exotic country. But for me, I haven't gone anywhere over the last ten years. I just woke up thinking it's February 9th, 2000. Even now I keep thinking the wreck happened moments ago. Then I look in the mirror I can see that's not true.
"Of course, I can look at you and it hits me how much time has passed. You've become a woman in a quantum leap. Somehow I don't think this is what they mean when they say your children grow up in a blink of an eye...
"Still, part of me holds onto the hope that this is a dream. Although technically I suppose it qualifies as a nightmare.
"I keep wondering where have I been for all these years? Have I been in some sort of deep mental sleep? Was I dead and am now in the state of mental reincarnation? And who has been here in my place? She seems nothing like me, from what Mother says. She seems... like an idiot. A sweet, dim, idiot.
"And yet she will win. I can already feel myself slipping away. Memories are starting to slide away from my fingertips, and I'm losing words for things. The writing is on the wall, Katarina. It looks like I won't be able to warn you, at least not in person. I won't be here to protect you. Again.
"I've made you many other tapes, tapes while I was talking to your grandmother and Margie. I hope you get to hear them. Maybe you already have. My wishes and dreams for you are on those tapes, all the things I wanted to teach you. I won't get a chance to, apparently.
"But this is the tape I don't trust them to give you. I've had to lock myself in this crappy hotel bathroom in the middle of the night just to record the damn thing. I'll figure out a way to send this to you when they aren't watching me.
"Ah, Katarina, I don't know who to trust.
"There's only one reason I'm telling you this story at all. I have a feeling..."
There was a stretch of silence on the tape, then her voice came back, stronger.
"Katarina, they know. They know I've come back. And things ... terrible things are happening. I called four people involved and they've all left. Two I know of are hiding out. One might even be dead.
Then you had the accident. If it even was an accident.
I felt lightheaded as if someone had lifted me too high, too fast. Of course it was an accident, I thought to myself, shifting in my spot on the couch. A flash of pain from my rib took my breath away.
"And I'll be gone soon enough, in every way that counts, anyway. There's only one weapon I can give you and it's th
is tape. It might be the only thing that keeps you safe, keeps you a step ahead. Because they aren't drawing the line anymore. They are shutting every door they can find and I'll be damned if I can figure out why.
"If you end up having to run, you need to know everything I can tell you because I don't know what part of it will matter. Remember one thing, Katarina. What happened to me—it wasn't an accident.
"They were trying to kill me. And I think they'll try to kill you—whether you have the answers or not."
Chapter 9
"Before you were born, I worked part-time in the state records office. It was a dead-end job, but I was just there to make extra money until I got through my doctorate. It was brutal. Imagine filing papers all day, every day. Over and over. I took it because I thought it would be a good experience for the history work I planned on doing. What a joke.
"The only part of the job I liked was the occasional research project—although it's a stretch to call it research, really. Most of the other women in the office hated to do any of the special research requests because it involved actually getting their fat asses up and walking downstairs to the basement for the old files. The files they said they were going to computerize but never did.
"Most of the research was focused around title searches, trying to make sure deeds were accurate and that no one was digging up an old cemetery and all that. It's actually amazing anyone agrees on property lines; the historical files in this state are ridiculously contradictory, especially if you go back fifty or a hundred years. Half the time you'd think someone owned a parcel of land, they'd build a convenience store on it, and you'd find out it belonged to a rancher who never did sell the land. When the place was getting carved up for a new subdivision you'd find out the whole thing was a mess. It took an army of lawyers and a few hastily drawn documents to make anything really work.
"Anyway, a woman came into the office researching mineral rights on some land. There was a discrepancy about names on this natural gas field in South Texas and her company wanted to clarify before they entered into a lease. Involved the Bonita family back in the 60s.
"I didn't know too much about them back then, but your grandmother told me we were related to the Bonitas, distant cousins or something. That was something she told me a little too late. "
She laughed bitterly, that ironic, sarcastic tone was one I hadn't heard from her in over a decade.
"But I'll get to that later."
There was a long pause, and I could hear a muffled sounds in the background. My mother's voice was louder for a minute.
"I'm relaxing in the tub, mother."
Another muffled sound, then the splashing of water.
"Honestly, can you just leave me alone for a while?"
A muffled sound cut off, then there was a skip in the tape as if something had been erased. Her voice was back, softer.
"Does your grandmother always sleep so lightly? I wonder if you were ever able to sneak out of the house in high school. I never could. She had me nailed the minute my feet hit the floor. All for the best, I suppose.
"So, like I was saying, it's about people. And... relationships.
"That's what I really want you to know. I wasn't trying to be a hero, or on some kind of crusade. It was all a weird accident. And I never would have known any of it if it weren't for that natural gas lease. Didn't matter, though."
There was another long pause, then she continued.
"So I ended up focusing my thesis on natural gas leases and mineral rights. I know, it sounds pretty boring. But almost every power player from the panhandle was built on those leases. They were smart guys. They might sell land, but not the mineral rights. They held on to the value. I was working on economics around oil and gas, some statistical analysis, but I have to admit, I kept coming back to rights. Maybe Gustav was right. Maybe I should have switched to law.
"Anyway, in the year before the accident I got something in the mail. It was... well, something pretty unusual, a kind of crazy coincidence. It's the first thing you need to go back and get if you're going to figure out what's going on. When everything started to get heated, I scattered all the information so if something happened to me, so someone could do something. Of course, there was the will...
"But you never did see the will, did you? Because 'technically' I didn't die."
She laughed again, lower this time.
"I think it's the letter they were after the day the truck hit me, Katarina. Or maybe the package from Susan. I don't know. It could be the whole file. I haven't had time to look at everything really, I was so busy scattering it around after the big scene with Roberto.
I'd never heard of a single one of these people she was talking about.Who were they? Did she work with them? Were they friends?
"And now... In a few days, I won't be... I won't really be here. "
Her voice broke, sounded tight and her breathing grew louder as if she had pulled the microphone right to her lips. My eyes began to burn and tears spilled over when I closed them. Mom's voice, Antonia's voice, all at once strange and yet painfully familiar and distant, continued.
"I won't be able to do shit. They'll come after you, Mija. Whether you know anything or not. I'm not sure why now, not sure what's going on. Maybe it's just because of me, because I came back.
"At this point the only thing I can give you is the things I gathered before they... hit me.
I heard a tap on the recording, and when she continued her voice was different, as if she was in a different room. She spoke so softly, she was practically whispering.
"Okay, Kati. First, go to the church in San Elizario. Ask for Father Henry. He's got the envelope and I called him to tell him you were coming—"
I heard a loud knock on the door. I jumped to my feet and quickly stopped the tape. I walked toward the door, fighting the sparks that went off in my head and holding my side where it ached from my sudden move. I looked through the peephole. There was Eliah's neck and chest.
He was waving a white pharmacy bag. "Kat! It's me! Eliah. I have your meds."
Seriously. If I didn't stop him from this nursemaid routine I was never going to get rid of him.
I opened the door and he walked in with a spring in his step. He dropped the bag on the table and ripped it open.
"Pain meds and something to help you rest," he said, squinting at the bottle. "Ooooh, hydrocodone. I used that after my softball injury."
"Thanks, Eliah. I forgot about these."
He palmed the bottle and opened it, shaking out two pills. "Here you go."
"I'm not really—"
Eliah raised a long bony finger, Ichabod Crane preparing for a speech. "You need to take your meds and give your body time to recover. They let you out too early and you clearly still need to rest. It's crazy. Insurance companies want everyone out of the hospital before they are even halfway healed."
I didn't care if I threw up on the side of his car. He was pushing this "friend" thing. "Look, Eliah, I have things to do."
He gave me a stern look and held out the pills to me in his ginormous hand. He was never going to quit. I took the pills from him and headed to the bathroom for water, closing the door behind me. Then I tossed the pills down the drain. I never took those kinds of meds, they knocked me out and made me sick for days. I could deal with pain. I learned that in two years of self-defense classes.
When I got back, Eliah was looking over my mostly bare bookshelf next to the stereo.
"Okay, all set," I said. "Guess I should get some rest."
He turned, his big goofy grin stretching nearly to his ears. "Right. Okay then. See you tomorrow. You've got a follow-up with the doctor at," he pulled a small notebook out of his shirt pocket. "Noon. I'll be by at 11:30."
"Oh, um, okay." I wasn't sure if I could take any more Eliah-ness. I ushered him to the door. Behind me, I heard a loud mechanical pop. I turned around but didn't see anything.
"See you!" said Eliah.
I stood against the door, hopin
g he wouldn't come back, listened to his heavy feet hitting every stair. Satisfied that he was gone, I went back to the stereo and hit the play button. It made a loud popping sound. It was at the end. Hadn't I stopped it? How could it be at the end?
I hit rewind, listening to the high-speed whine for a few seconds, then hit play.
A soft hiss came through the speakers.
No. Tell me I hadn't accidentally erased the tape. I swore I only hit the stop button.
The hiss continued. I rewound until I heard her voice, then fast forwarded to the point where she talked about Father Henry. The tape went from words to hiss.
No. Please no. I ejected the tape and slammed my hand on the shelf, shaking loose a couple of books. How could I have done this? I felt sick. I lost her. Again. I lost the other Antonia, my mom, that driven woman, the one who worked in an office, dealt with professors and politicians, a woman examining the world and sketching it in long reports filled with statistical analysis. Someone who didn't need pennies to teach her how to count.
I slammed the player closed. And where the hell were they anyway? Why hadn't Abuela called, where were the other tapes, what was I supposed to do now? I shoved the tape into my pants' pocket and wandered into my tiny spare bedroom where I kept all my climbing gear. Three rope bags were piled in the corner, along with my backpack filled with gear. I grabbed one and threw it on the bed. It was long and lumpy, looking a little like a body was sleeping there. I knelt down and fumbled with the zippered side pocket. I pulled out my spare credit card and keys.
I needed to get out.
That's when I remembered the other tape. I looked around. My jacket was on the couch.
Strange, I'd thought I had hung it up on the coat rack. I checked the pockets. Nothing. Had I lost the tape on the way home from the hospital? Had I lost everything? I searched around the couch, the bookshelf, and back in my room. Nothing. When I bent over to look under the coffee tape, my head pounded to the point I almost passed out. Disgusted, I grabbed my jacket and headed out.
I was exhausted, confused and a little angry, although I wasn't sure at what, or who. Was I angry at my mother for leaving again? Or was I angry that someone took her from me all those years ago?
When I Knew You Page 4
