She scoffed.
“Where are you going? To meet that bitch, Sonia? Do you think she’s going to tell you anything?”
“She’d better.”
“I love you, but you’re fucking naive if you think it’s going to be that easy. After everything she’s done to keep you from Eli, you think she’s just going to give him back to you? She has no intention of giving you anything. There’s something wrong with that woman, Noah, something that scares me, and I don’t want you going anywhere near her. Especially when I’m laid up in here with no idea what’s going on. I need you, Noah. Your child needs you.”
“Eli is my child, Rachel. He needs me too.”
“I hate to tell you this, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you at all. He’s got Sonia.”
“You just told me you don’t trust her. But you trust her enough to care for my child?”
Rachel was starting to cry again. Noah wanted to back off, but suddenly understood she had never wanted anything to do with Eli, didn’t even want him in her life, and she was using any weapon she could to turn Noah against his own son. The realization made him angrier than he thought possible.
“Eli is a part of me, Rachel, and nothing you say can make that different. He’s my son, and he means more than the world to me. He means more to me than my own life.”
“Does he mean more to you than me? Does he mean more to you than your other child? The one I’m carrying?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Answer me!”
“You want me to choose?”
“Yes, exactly. I want you to choose between your fucking crazy ex-wife and a child who has no idea who the fuck you are; and me, the woman who loves you, the woman who came down here on this crazy mission with you even though she is carrying your future child, one whom you’ll know and grow close to and will love you forever. Choose, Noah. If you’re half the man you believe you are, it should be easy. Choose.”
Noah took a breath, but had no idea what words were going to come out of his mouth. The anger and resentment had built up to such intolerable levels they confounded him. The pressure in his head was building, struggling for release.
Who was she? Who was she to tell Noah that Eli was nothing? That he should be forgotten? Who was this woman? Not the demure girl he’d meet what seemed like only months before, the girl who once didn’t know the meaning of the word “relationship.” He had only been with her because her commitment to being noncommittal was so different from his that she seemed exciting, good for him. When had she become the yoke around his neck, telling him that he should no longer care about the only thing he’d ever cared about? Who was she? And who was the unborn child she said was his? Did it smile like Eli? Did it laugh like him? Was it as smart, as friendly, and perfect as his little son? It was nothing to him, nothing but a lump of flesh buried deep in a woman he didn’t know, didn’t recognize. She wanted him to choose between that and his perfect little boy? There was no choice. There had never been a choice.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Noah. His skull filled with opaque fuses and felt as though it were burning. He touched his forehead; it was strangely cold.
“I have to go, Rachel. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” she said, and threw the brightly colored toy at him. It bounced off his temple, catalyzing his anger before it smashed to the ground.
“With pleasure,” he bellowed, then stormed out.
Muñoz was sitting in the waiting room, speaking quietly with the strange staring couple. It was clear by the look of guilt on his face that he’d heard part of the argument. Noah didn’t stop. Full of burning embers, he stormed outside. Muñoz followed close behind.
“Is she okay?” Muñoz dared.
“You don’t need to worry about it. Just get me to the church and to Sonia. Nothing else is going to come between me and Eli.”
The sharp shadow of the steeple lay across the front of the church, cutting the path to its door like a giant razor. Noah had been anxious on the journey there from the doctor’s office, still carrying his burning anger over what Rachel had said, and his nervous anticipation at seeing Eli again. He and Muñoz passed the rundown houses and saw few people outside. Most moved as if they were still asleep, staring off into space. On the stoop of a house, a woman sat surrounded by broken toys and the half-formed piñata she was building. Her hands were caked in pink plaster, and they covered her face as she wept uncontrollably.
Muñoz led Noah on without comment, along the dirt road to the towering church. Heat warped its height until the spire climbed forever into the sky. Out front, a shirtless man was working the arid ground, planting grass and flowers where it was clear nothing could grow. His back was tanned and broad, his muscles tight along his barrel chest, and it wasn’t until the two men were almost upon him that Noah realized it was Father Manillo.
“You came back!” he said, his grin wide, lenses reflecting the sun into Noah’s eyes. “Did you find everything you needed?”
Noah hesitated. “Almost.”
“Good, good!” he said. Not once did he look at Muñoz.
“And your wife? How is she?”
“My girlfriend is fine,” Noah said curtly. “But you know why I’m here, don’t you?”
“¿De verdad?”
“My wife. My ex-wife. She’s here, isn’t she?”
Noah watched the priest’s eyes, hoping the revelation would shake the man, but instead the older man dug his shovel into the ground and leaned on the handle. Then he laughed.
“What do you think is going on here? This is a place of God.”
“I don’t know about that, but I know you’ve been sheltering the Tletliztlii here. It’s probably why we didn’t find them up on the heath. Were they ever there?”
The priest laughed again, the sound as paternal as it was cold.
“Oh, they come and go. They come and go.” Then his face grew still, the laugh lines fading back into tanned leather skin, and he grabbed Noah’s arm and pulled. Noah tried to resist, but the sudden snatch had unbalanced him.
“You want to go inside, yes? I will not stop you—everyone is free to worship at Ometéotlitztl’s altar—but no matter what you find you must respect the sanctity of the church. There is no anger among the Tletliztlii, only shared purpose. Do you accept?”
He held out his hand for Noah to take. Noah shook it, but his own hand felt inadequate inside Manillo’s giant paw. When the priest let go, Noah wiped his fingers across his chest, trying to erase the feel of Manillo’s sweat and calluses. Noah turned to Muñoz, but the teacher remained cautiously and infuriatingly mute.
Though its windows were pointed away from the sun and let only indirect light inside, the interior of the church was an oven. There were more people in the pews, more people praying than ever before, many with plaster-covered hands, working on piñatas of various sizes and shapes; each was a colorful reminder of all the children Noah had not seen, had not held in so long. Each was a painful memory of what he had lost. He wondered about Rachel, about how she was, about whether what she’d said was true, but the thought was interrupted by the sight of the woman kneeling before the church’s towering black altar.
Her auburn hair was pinned back, but wisps of it fell over her apple face. Lines had been carved where he had never seen them, and dressed in meager clothes she bore little resemblance to the woman he’d known. But the way she hung her head, the awkward turn of her nose, made it all too clear who she was. He would never forget her. Not the woman who had stolen his son from him.
“Sonia!”
Everyone stopped to look at him. A hundred eyes all staring. All eyes but two. Those remained transfixed on the altar.
“Sonia! Where is he? Where is Eli?”
The kneeling woman did not answer, did not turn. A shadow from the door spread across the room, and Noah saw Manillo standing there, filling the frame. The priest slowly wiped his hands on the cloth hanging from
his belt. The church shrank to half its size. Muñoz stepped back, but Noah did not. He would not back down until he found Eli. He had come too far, travelled too long.
“Sonia! Where?”
The crowd became agitated as Noah’s anger intensified. Manillo took a few steps forward, and Noah glared at him in warning. Manillo paused, but the smirk on his face was disconcerting. The shirtless old man looked more than capable of snapping Noah in two. Nevertheless, Noah carried on undeterred, his voice increasing in volume with every step he took toward his ex-wife.
“Sonia!”
She stood slowly as he stalked toward her, and her expression looked both irritated and bored.
“Hello, Noah.”
He was momentarily startled. Her eyes—her eyes were bloodshot and circled with red, as though she’d been crying, but it was clear she hadn’t. It had only been a few years, but the changes were immense. She’d been beaten by the sun until her face creased, and by something else that had bruised her across the side of her body.
“What are they doing to you here? Are they keeping you here? Are they keeping Eli here?”
“Of course not. Nobody’s being ‘kept’ anywhere. I need you to calm down. I have to talk to you.”
“Calm down? Calm down? You kidnap my son from me, take him to another country where you hide in case I come looking, and when after three years I find you, all you can tell me to do it ‘calm down’? I ought to—” Flustered, the anger welled up inside of him, like a geyser of flame waiting to erupt. His muscles twitched; he was desperate to throttle her, but before he could act Manillo was there, chest glistening with sweat, jaw set with concrete. He stared into Noah’s eyes until the younger man grudgingly backed down.
Noah sighed.
“I just want to know where Eli is, Sonia. I just want to take him home. He has no place here.”
Sonia sat in an empty pew, pushing aside a crude elephant-shaped piñata, and looked down at her plastered and wrinkled hands. Noah felt a twinge of confusion, then he saw the flicker of a smile. It reignited his rage, but Manillo would not tolerate it.
“If you cannot control your emotions, Noah,” he said, “I will have to control them. You are a guest under this roof. Act that way.”
Noah did not care.
“I want Eli. I want to know where he is right now.”
“He’s fine. He’s safe. Ask his teacher.”
Noah looked at Muñoz, but the man would not lift his head to meet the gaze. He seemed smaller than before.
“You see, Noah,” Manillo said, resting a burning hand on the back of Noah’s neck that couldn’t be shaken, “Eli’s fine. You can calm down.”
“Yes, calm down, Noah,” Sonia said, a hint of mockery so slight Noah suspected only he could notice. “There’s nothing wrong with Eli. He likes it down here.”
“I don’t care if he likes it or not. He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have taken him. He doesn’t belong to you.”
“He’s a boy, Noah; not a car. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” She glanced at Muñoz. “Haven’t you even wondered why, Noah?”
“Why what? You took my son? No, I just want him back.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand.”
She looked at Manillo, who only nodded in response. Then the priest put his sweating hand on Noah’s shoulder and glared at him. The message was clear.
“Muñoz,” he barked at the shrinking teacher. “Venga conmigo.”
The two men retreated, leaving Noah and his ex-wife alone. The rest of the spectators resumed their crafts.
Sonia’s head was in her hands, the greasy wisps of hair falling over her unwashed arms. She did not seem capable of being awake, let alone taking care of their son.
“After we—after the divorce, I can’t explain to you how lost I felt. I was doing what I could to keep up appearances, but inside I was broken. I think if I’m being fair, I was always broken; you just had the bad luck to come across me when I was hiding it better. There’s always been something missing, some piece of me left empty, unfilled. I’ve always felt hollow, but I’d been that way for so long I thought that was how everybody felt. Do you feel that way, Noah? Do you feel hollow?”
“I can’t say I do.”
She looked up at him, her sunken eyes bloodshot and pleading. He’d never seen her like that before; it unnerved him. “Seriously. Think about it. Don’t you feel like something is missing?”
“I do, Sonia. I’ve felt it ever since you took Eli from me.”
She looked down again with what he hoped was a grimace, but might have been something worse.
“I had to take him. You won’t understand.”
“Probably not.”
She stood and paced, rubbing her hands along the legs of her jeans. She moved back and forth between pews, fidgeting with one of the large papier-mâché creatures that were perched on them. She tenderly ran her fingers across the colored tissue paper.
“I needed something to fill the hole, Noah, and I found it, of all places, in the Coniston Public Library. Or at least in the newspapers there. It was a tiny article, no bigger than a column, and it laid out the plight of the Tletliztlii and their worship of Ometéotlitztl. Something about it spoke to me. Maybe because of the way they described the country, vast but lonesome, or maybe I just felt the need to fill the hole with experience. Anything to recharge my battery. By that point, there was nothing left for me anywhere.”
“And some cult saying God was born from the other Mexican gods was the best place for you?”
“It’s not a cult, Noah. And who told you about the child?”
“Your friend Father Manillo did. If he’s even a priest.”
“Oh, he is. But he didn’t tell you the whole story.
“Even if I understood why you’d want to join a cult—”
“I told you: it’s not a cult.”
“Even if I understood why,” he continued, “I don’t understand why you’d want to steal Eli from me, too. Why did you have to take him? What good could have come from that, other than to hurt me?”
She put her hand on his, and though his skin instinctively curled away from her touch, he did not move.
“Noah,” she said. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Honestly, you didn’t cross my mind at all.”
Noah felt the baking heat multiplied tenfold across his skin, igniting the fire in his brain. He thought he might burst into flame. Manillo’s warnings echoed in his clouded mind, the only thing keeping him from unleashing his fury. That, and the number of Tletliztlii around him and Sonia.
“There was something about the Tletliztlii that spoke to me as soon as I read about it. People from all walks of life came on a pilgrimage, all needing to fill the hole in their lives. Ometéotlitztl offered something nothing else did. Ometéotlitztl offered fire. But when I got here I realized it was much more than that. So much more. I don’t know if I can explain it. I don’t know how to make you understand what my sisters and brothers and I understand. I came down to Mexico an empty shell and found myself transformed by what filled me. I’m so much more than I once was. I like this feeling, Noah. I want to keep hold of it.”
“What about Eli?”
“What about him? I’ve always felt a strange connection to him. Not like mother and child but something else. I can’t explain it, and he’s too young to do it for me, but Eli and I have a relationship that is built on different foundations. This is one of the things I realized while I waited for my life to begin again, and I wondered what that made me. Was I some sort of a monster?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
Sonia let go of his hand and paced again, lightly stroking the animal effigy. Noah watched closely for signs of the woman he’d once known, once been married to and shared a child with. But it wasn’t her. It wasn’t who he remembered. This woman, this person in the shape of Sonia, was a stranger, and
he did not understand her. He could not predict her. She had his son hidden somewhere, and Noah knew then that Rachel was right: she would never tell him where.
“You can keep your crazy cult for all I care. I just want our son back.”
“Noah, you don’t understand anything. You’ve never understood anything. That’s always been your problem. You move without thinking about what you’re doing, about who you’re hurting. You’re like a blind bull, and I hate to tell you this but you can’t always get what you want.”
“Where is he?” He was becoming more agitated, his head spinning on his shoulders. “Where’s that fucking Manillo gone?”
“Noah, stop it. Look at me.”
“I want Eli. I need him and I’m not leaving without him. Nobody is kidnapping my son!”
“I told you: he’s not kidnapped. Everything is fine. Eli needs to stay here with me. I need him more than you ever could.”
But Noah was not listening. His fists clenched in rage, he screamed for Manillo to show his face. All the Tletliztlii were watching, and they started to laugh, and their laughter only further fueled his anger. He grabbed Sonia by the wrist hard so she could not struggle away and jerked her close. Her breath was fetid but barely registered through his bloody haze.
“You could never need him as much as I do. Take me to him now, or—”
“Or what? What are you going to do? Besides turn around and leave? Save yourself: Get the fuck out of here and take care of the other Eli you have on the way.”
Noah stood and punched one of the misshapen piñatas with all his strength, breaking it in half.
“I don’t want another Eli. I want mine!”
“You can’t have him,” she said. Laughing.
Noah’s brain shut down, unable to comprehend what Sonia was saying, what she was doing, how far he had travelled only to be blocked by a wall of insanity. He heard the crying of children filling his mind, even though he knew their voices couldn’t be real. But the cries only grew, intensified, bursting his skull amid Sonia’s mocking laughter. He squeezed her wrist tighter, squeezed his eyes shut tighter still, trying to surface in the tidal wave of anger flooding over him. He was drowning in it, deaf and blind and dumb and full of hatred. He opened his eyes long enough to see Manillo had returned, and his enormous fist was travelling straight at Noah’s face.
Burnt Black Suns: A Collection of Weird Tales Page 29
