Entangled Moon

by E. C. Frey

  “Na-uh. I’m careful.”

  “I doubt it. I’m telling you. Don’t mess with him. Don’t even flirt.”

  “Why not? It’s harmless.”

  “It’s not harmless. Besides, that would devastate Heather. We’re everything to her. Imagine how she would feel if she saw you coming on to her husband. She would feel betrayed.”

  “Hey, what are you two talking about?” Esperanza asked.

  “Oh, we were just talking about going to the Rose Garden. Weren’t we, Mariah?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Eve and Mariah strolled in front, arm in arm. Heather, Esperanza, and Fiona walked behind kicking rocks, bending to smell the fragrance of the heirloom roses, and talking about old times. The fountains sparkled. The Garden felt smaller, but it was still enchanting. Mariah sighed. She pretended her father was waiting for her, checking the clock for her return, the lamplights muted in the darkened night. She could snuggle next him while he read and wait for him to tell a story—their people’s stories. She could smell his body, the way it made her feel like home was the only place that mattered on earth. She would give anything to feel safe again. He had always tethered her to the world in which she lived. Mariah hiccupped a sob. Eve held her arm a little tighter.

  Fiona came up behind them. “Wait, guys. I have to pee.”

  “What? The restrooms are closed.”

  “There’s always the trees.” Fiona giggled as she ran toward the backside of the restrooms.

  Eve watched her. “That girl can piss like a racehorse.”

  Mariah looked up at the moonlight. She could swear she saw two topaz eyes watching her from the street above. Dropping Eve’s arm, she moved toward them.

  “Where are you going?” Esperanza asked.

  “I see my owl.”

  Heather smiled. “Well, don’t go far. We need to stay together.”

  “I won’t.”

  Mariah walked toward the eyes. They moved. She called her dad’s name. A hoot answered. She approached more quickly.

  She was seized with a sense of loss. She could not bear to lose sight of him.

  He had wings. She had legs. She heard the rustle of feathers and lost the topaz eyes. She grabbed the air. The orbs opened again a short distance away.

  She moved to the north to intercept him. She hooted. He answered.

  He rustled his plumage.

  Mariah stopped. Paralyzed, she listened. She could not lose him again.

  She hooted.

  The orbs closed and opened. The head peered sideways.

  Something rustled in the piney down undergrowth.

  That’s when she saw them.

  Brandon and Fiona.

  He had her in a full embrace, the kiss passionate.

  Fiona kissed him back.

  Mariah ran.

  6 Esperanza

  Sometimes, God gives you a warning. Sometimes, you don’t know it until later. Later, when the dust settles and you realize there were signs. Little things, like an owl perched precariously close to your window or hearing first thing in the morning about a robbery at the convenience store you were at last night. Or a phone call bearing bad news. The event touches you, but you barely note that your face is prickling and your stomach is churning. The day continues. You prepare breakfast for your family. You use the same pans. The sun drifts through your window the same as it did yesterday and the day before. The dishes clink. You gather your loved ones and shuttle them to school. But these normal things are no longer so ordinary. Or perhaps they are. They morph into banality in the face of rising change. Something has shifted. The mirror of your life has begun to shatter and the pieces crunch under your feet. The next piece falls, and by day’s end those pieces have been strewn under your feet and crushed into a million bits of glass dust and you cannot go back to that moment you first got the sign of a warning. You must stand and respect the danger. El respeto.

  “He is dead. I thought you would want to know,” my sister said. She had read it in the newspaper in Mexico, where she now lived.

  The words followed me that morning. He was the great love of my life. I think of that cave where my heart was first opened and broken, and realize I have been unable to reconcile my life now to all the possibilities I had let go in my heartbreak. So much of what happened that year has been packed away into a carefully curated amnesia. How else does one survive? The light so long ago extinguished floods back into the interior and illuminates the stage of my memory like a tragic operetta.

  I miss the first traffic light.

  “Mom! What are you doing? You ran a red light. Geez.” Carlos, my oldest, has no patience for me. I am on a tight leash these days.

  “Lo siento. I am sorry.”

  I focus, but my mind returns to that memory, a floodgate to all the others. He is not dead there. The words of this morning are alien. My memory cannot be false. No. The image is real. As real as the deep reflecting pool at the bottom of the cenote—a sinkhole and portal to a magical underworld.

  “Mom. What’s up?” Carlos yells. “You just passed school.”

  “Mom. You have to turn around.” Izzy, my dreamer and second born, softens the tone.

  “Lo siento. Lo siento. I don’t know where my mind is this morning.”

  “Well, it isn’t where it’s supposed to be.” Carlos scowls into the rearview mirror.

  “I’m sorry, buddy.”

  Shaking his head, he grabs his backpack and climbs from the car.

  “It’s all right, Mom. He’ll get over it.” Izzy’s smile is conciliatory.

  “Thanks, my angel. Have a good day.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Izzy closes the door. I look at my youngest, Angelica, in the rear-view mirror. She smiles. My little miracle child, born late in my life, reminds me of the power of love. It is love that gives meaning to all. It gives meaning when all is else is laid to waste. I have to remind myself of this. Sometimes, the gift of love seems to lose its force in the light of everyday life. It is easy to wish for more when everything seems to be always the same. Monotony screams for excitement, but I know the allure of more is an empty illusion. It is a chase for a promise that cannot deliver. The clear turquoise of the cenote is also the chilled black waters of an earthbound abyss.

  I had only just survived a night alone in the woods during one of our crazy teenage schemes when my parents whisked me off to the Yucatan. They imagined they could break the hold my friends had over me, but I was not under a spell. We fit because we did not fit. Misfits, we found an understanding in our differences. In my family, we did not speak of being Cuban in a Chicano world any more than we did not speak of being mulatto in a Cuban world. As if Mexican Americans could understand a Cuban or a black could understand a mulatto. My blood was tainted and my pigment was wrong. Mariah was right. The world of the mixed blood is no man’s land.

  But I did not complain too much. The Yucatan was a balm to my chilled soul. I couldn’t save Heather any more than the others could. Even then she lay in a coma in a sterile Sunny Hollow hospital, tended to by her abuser. My father did not want to hear about it, but Mimi was a kindred spirit and she comforted me.

  “Why don’t you go to the cenote or the ocean, my darling?” Mimi loved the enigmatic force of the clear, dark pools as much as the angry power of the seas. Yemaya, the deity of the sea, is the great universal mother. She is the embodiment of motherly love but she is also wrathful. There were always two sides to everything. I was always sure of my mother’s love and I was sure of the line at which I could incur her anger. Life was like that. I had embarked on an adventure with my friends on a day I had imagined chasing clouds and rainbows, tiny wisps of cumulus cotton candy and cirrus tendrils soaring far in to the heavens. I was still an innocent. But clouds are the bearers of deeper meaning, vapors of shape-shifting water, tears tucked deep within the cumulonimbus that pile up into thunderheads to release fire and ice upon those below who do not have the good sense to seek cover.

  Bask
ing in the sun, swimming in the warm waters of the Caribbean, and exploring Mayan ruins had made me hungry for life. The restaurants and markets spewed the smells of Tikin Xic, white fish marinated in adobo de Achiote and bitter oranges wrapped in a banana leaf and the zest of sopa de lima, lime-marinated turkey dressed with sizzling tortilla strips. And always chocolate, the elixir of the gods made from the toasted fermented seeds of the cacao tree mixed with the heady scent of vanilla, made from an orchid only grown wild in Mexico and pollinated by the stingless bee that produces Mayan honey. The mix of scents of burning wood, citrus, corn, chocolate, vanilla, and spices flourished with the sights of bright colors of huipil and the dyes of exotic flora. The sun tanned me a brown I could not know even in California. I wanted to slough my garments and catch only those things sensory upon my skin. But still I hunted the cenote. The keeper of secrets hid. Finally, Gabriel took me.

  It is impossible to think about my life without remembering that moment I saw him. Sometimes, there are times that just take your breath away. It is impossible in those moments to find words. Language, in all its power, fails. My skin tingled and fire burned in my thighs. I tried to hide it, but how does one extinguish an inferno? Transformation becomes an imperative. This I should have known, but Mariah is the prescient one and she was back in Sunny Hollow even now, packing for her trip to the reservation. It is one thing to be naked and it is another to be without those who help guide you through the maze of feelings.

  The cenote and Gabriel were waiting. My father was easy, but mother knew. Maybe not specifics. I told them I was meeting some other Americans to go swimming. Gabriel waited on his moped at the outskirts of the village.

  The cenote was hidden, a sacred pool of unearthly peace. It was not so much that I stepped back in time, although a part of me felt tied to something ancestral—it was more that I had stepped into an altered place, a shift in reality. The ancient stain of human sacrifice could not alter its essence, the wounds of suffering would find healing.

  Gabriel dropped his clothes and leapt into the stillness of the clear turquoise water. I watched him with forbidden curiosity, like when you pass an accident and know you should look away but can’t because there is some force far greater than you demanding that you know this thing and find some understanding.

  Naked, he was like nothing I had ever seen. I leaned against a rock. My breath shallow, my hands shook as I peeled off my clothes.

  The cenote was partially concealed by the land that had not collapsed and had formed a roof over the water, but the other half was fully accessible and light. Part mystery and part truth, it enticed me. Stalactites formed a forest. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees and created a ray in the ceiling that illuminated Gabriel as he swam. God was there. I remember crossing myself. Something that beautiful and truthful, something this close to God, had to be sacred, had to be right.

  I shed my undergarments and ran over the lip of the cenote. The water was warm and refreshing. It cleared my head, but did little to soften the tingling in my body. Gabriel emerged from the shadows and swam toward me, his limbs brown and lithe under the cover of water. He entreated me, but I was warm and safe huddled against the ledge. I was not yet ready to enter the heart of the cenote, where nothing but open air and sunshine reigned. There was a boldness I did not have even though I wanted what terrified me.

  He smiled as he reached me. His smile intoxicated me. He embraced me and I let him. His eyes were dark, and as mysterious as the beckoning cave. I was in dangerous territory and I could not pull away, could not find the strength to disentangle myself and lift myself from the pool in which I was losing myself. He touched his lips to mine, gently at first. The fire spread quickly and devoured restraint as it consumed me. The kiss was tender and passionate. We separated and swam toward the ledge hidden within the stalactites.

  It was there, deep within, on the cool altar of fossilized coral and limestone, that I lost my virginity. In the passion of the moment he plunged into me over and over, pain and joy matched thrust by thrust. I wanted to scream, but the noise was unbidden in this sacred space. I dared not destroy it. My heart exploded in my ears before peace descended and the cool water dripped from the roof into the liquid womb.

  Perched over me, skin on skin, soul in soul, Gabriel’s eyes reflected an abiding emotion. Was it love? Or was it something else? I wanted to drown in it, claim it, but it tortured me, too. He straddled me and slid into the water. Disappeared. I found the solitude remarkable. Alone, I was separate from the world and more a part of it than I had ever been. By the time he resurfaced, I was a part of something greater, a feeling new and equally ancient. I had felt flashes of it when the roses glistened in the garden or when the butterflies danced in the summer air. Love was new and as eternal as the water that ran deep within the ground. I had only to enter its abyss.

  I splashed into the water, plunged to the sandy bottom, and surfaced where Gabriel waited. We swam, but it did not take long before we were perched again on the ledge. I wanted to explore the contours of his body, the softness of his skin, the feel of someone outside of me but now a part of me. I did not want the day to end. The air clung to us and time could not penetrate the veil around us. By the time I returned to the hotel, the sun had set.

  “Where have you been?” My mother’s eyes were wild.

  “Um, I was down the beach with those Americans I told you about.” Shame and guilt began to kill the peace within me, but my love was safe.

  “Don’t lie to me. Your father went looking for you. He couldn’t find you.”

  “Um, where did he look?”

  “He went way down the beach.”

  I stood like a pigeon, willing my legs to hold me up, not betray me. I have always been a horrible liar. Even if I had been a good one, my mother would have known. She always knew. A hush had quieted the lobby and everyone’s eyes were upon us—a mother and her errant daughter. Could they see through me? My legs ached and mosquito bites raised little welts. Tiny creatures buzzed around my ears and I swatted at their invisible force.

  “I was there. I bet he just didn’t go far enough.”

  “He went very far. He was very upset and very worried. You can’t just wander off like you did back home.”

  “I know. I didn’t. He just didn’t see me for some reason.” The worst part about being in love and lying is the sense of betraying the universe. My legs could not hold the weight of it all. “I’m sorry, Mimi. It won’t happen again.”

  “Do not think for one minute that I do not understand what is happening to you, love, but your father has had enough. He is taking us back home.”

  “No. You can’t.”

  “Your father has to go back to work soon anyway. He doesn’t have unlimited vacation. He would like to enjoy some of what is left of it back home. In peace. You have caused him much anxiety. Your brother and sisters want to be with their friends. And perhaps you would like to be with yours?”

  “But I don’t want to go.” It was impossible. I had just discovered the most special and wonderful person on earth. I would rather die than leave him. I needed to be with him forever. I would rather hurl myself from the highest cliff or dash in front of a speeding car than live without him. If I found him tonight, we could run away together and live in the jungle.

  “Of course I want to see my friends. I’ll be with them all next year. I’m not ready to leave Mexico yet.” It was as rational and unemotional as I could muster.

  Mimi’s eyes softened. Hers was an enduring and complex love I had always known and never completely understood. The paradox of my mother made me crazy. I wanted to run away from her, but I would never be able to survive disappointing her or my father. What was there to do? How could I endure this in silence? I was not Juliet and Mimi was not Lady Capulet. Poison was off the table.

  “It is time to go home, Esperanza.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Lo siento. Te quiero. I want only the best for you. You know this, sí?”r />
  “Sí, Mimi.”

  “We are leaving in the morning.”

  “In the morning? But how?”

  “Your father made all the arrangements.”

  She shifted into a haze behind my tears. They fell hard and fast. “There’s something I need to do.”

  “It must be quick. Long good-byes make it more difficult to leave.”

  “But I need a little bit of time.”

  “You have a little bit of time. But you must come to dinner now. Your father has been waiting and he deserves an explanation. Afterwards, you may have a little bit of time.”

  The finality of it overwhelmed me.

  I pushed my food around on my plate under my father’s watchful eye. I would never be able to eat again. Surely it is impossible for the heart to withstand such breaking. Surely I would die of starvation.

  Blessedly, Mimi held Father’s attention and he did not ask too many questions of me. But I did not know how to find Gabriel and he would not be in to work until the next morning. A glimmer of hope rested in the thought that he might have a plan. And I would run with him, no matter what, if he asked. We could live off the land. We could nourish each other. We could be our own world together. I would miss my parents, my brother and sisters, my friends, but I would do it all for him. He could sustain me through my loss and I could be a world to him. If only tomorrow came quickly.

  “Esperanza?”

  “Sí, Mimi.”

  “You may be excused. I can tell you’re not hungry. You need to pack and say good-bye to the friends you have made here.”

  “Gracias.”

  I headed to the front desk. “Do you know how to contact Gabriel?”

  “He lives in the next town over. He will not be in until tomorrow morning.”

  “Do you have the address?”

  “No. But he will be in tomorrow.”

  “Do you know what time?”

  We were leaving at 8 a.m. It would be close.

  “He comes in at 10 a.m.”

  “Oh.” It was hopeless. There was no way our love could be hopeless, but the universe was not being kind at this moment.