Before I leave, I grab one of Eury’s rosaries. It will be my link to her.
My head keeps remembering Ato’s words. You’re too late.
He’s wrong. Eury will find a way out of Ato’s hell. There has to be a way.
The nurse gently pushes me out the door. She points to where the elevators are. I try to compose myself. I’m not going to the waiting room. The waiting room is purgatory where people stand by for bad news to arrive. Eury will wake up. She has to.
I lean against the wall and cradle my head. What should I do? How can I help her? I’m so lost. The elevator door opens. I let my lead feet take me.
Outside the hospital is an endless night. There is a slight chill in the air as if the weather is also feeling the depth of my despair. It may be late, but the streets are filled with people. Tragedy is a magnet.
“Did you see her, son?” Pops leans against a mailbox. He hands me a bottle of water. How many hours have passed? It seems like an eternity.
Pops wraps his arms around me. I try not to choke up again.
“She looked like she’s sleeping,” I say. “It can’t be right. This doesn’t feel like real life.”
“Let’s go. If this spirit took Eury, there are people who may be able to help you,” he says. “I’m going to take you to las casitas.”
Las casitas. Is Pops talking about the blue house on Brook Avenue? He took me there once to listen to the Puerto Rican musicians play el cuatro. The house was crowded with people from the neighborhood singing Christmas songs. I remember it being cold outside, but inside the casita the warmth of everyone made it seem as if we’d been transported to a Caribbean island. What do las casitas have to do with anything?
Pops leads the way.
The faces of the people on the streets seem so strange to me. Then it dawns on me why. The old people, the viejitos and abuelas, stare at me. They meet my eyes and then turn in the direction of las casitas. Do they know where I am heading, where my father is meant to take me? They are pointing me to where I need to go.
No, I must be seeing things, tripping.
Casita Rincón Criollo stands out in this neighborhood. There’s no way of missing it. The simple bungalow is painted completely in blue like the crystalline ocean of the Caribbean. Pops stops in front of the house and faces me.
“We are entering a whole other universe where the rules are different. Do you understand?” he says. “I am only in the peripheral, not as well-versed as the others. Are you open to this?”
I can’t process the words Pops is saying, but I nod my head anyway.
“Wait here.”
He knocks softly on the door before entering. A soft glow spills from underneath the door. The strong smell of tobacco fills the air. I think of Eury. What makes me think I can do anything to save her? Who am I to dare? Me. A dumbass from Manhattan. And yet, I find myself standing in front of this house with the hope that those inside hold a key to her. They must.
Eury, don’t give up on me.
“Come in.” A woman’s voice. I open the door.
The small house is crowded with people. A bottle of rum is in the center of a table. Some of the people are familiar, faces I’ve seen around the neighborhood. Some are even part of Pops’s bike crew. I recognize a lady who sat by Eury at the church. Here, she is different. I let her hold me even though I don’t know her. Her hug reminds me of Grandma Lynn.
“This is Doña Petra,” Pops says.
“We’ve been waiting,” Doña Petra says.
A chill runs up my back. My mother’s voice comes to me with a strict warning to stay away from these people. I can just imagine how she would look around this room and not approve. Even with Pops near, I am not sure if what I’m doing is right or if I’m going against my mother.
“Do you think Ato has power over her?” Doña Petra asks.
I turn to my father. Those in the room are already in this discussion. They are in the know.
Be open, my father said. I’m trying, but doubt is telling me to accept the reality that Eury fell and is in a coma and I have no business trying to change that. My mother’s voice in my head is telling me to stick to what I know—singing, playing guitar, and reality.
“Eury said they used to be friends,” I say. “She’s known him since they were little.”
“Do you know what he is?” A man with a scruffy beard speaks. He is the owner of the bodega a few blocks from here.
“I don’t know,” I say. Do I tell them what I really think? That this is an elaborate hallucination affecting both Eury and me.
“He’s lying.” A young mother sits rocking a sleeping baby. She says this with such bluntness. I’m being interrogated like I was earlier by the cops. Exhaustion hits me. My life is a constant battle of explaining myself. I pause for a moment, not knowing what to say.
They wait. “He’s a spirit who wants to take Eury to the Underworld,” I say. “That’s what Eury told me.”
“He doesn’t believe,” the old man says. I can’t even correct him, because where is the lie?
“Ato has attached himself to Eury because of her light,” Doña Petra says. “He’s fed on this light for years with the conviction that soon they will be together in el Inframundo. The Underworld. That’s where Ato has taken her.”
She says this so matter-of-factly, like this piece of information should be obvious.
“What is a spirit if not the result of a colonized, traumatic state?” the man with the beard says. “Plant yourself in the mindset of the Taínos when they first saw the conquistadores arriving on the island. They were seeing things they never witnessed before. So much pain, and this pain can manifest in many ways.”
They talk to me with calm voices, but what they are saying sounds impossible. I’m meant to be open, but how can I be when what they speak of is straight out of a horror movie? I’m dealing with a history of tragedy that goes back centuries.
“But how can I help her?” I ask.
Doña Petra shakes her head.
“You can’t.”
“Then why am I even here?” I head to the door. This is some bullshit. Why did Pops bring me here if the only thing these people will offer me is a history lesson? Don’t tell me about the why. I need to know how. Give me the tools; if not, get out of my way.
My father presses his hand on my chest, preventing me from leaving.
“He believes there is still time,” Pops says. “His heart is true. I’ve seen them. Eury and Pheus. I know they were meant to stand beside each other. Let him try.”
“You abandoned her once,” Doña Petra says. “You’re too young to see what is plain. You should go back to singing at the club for your friends. It’s an easier life.”
I push Pops away. Let them stay in their shack. Eury is in an underworld with a ghost full of pain. They are like every adult out there. Like my Mom, who sees only the future me making money. Like my Father, who wishes only to see me using my music to heal.
“Screw this. I’ll find another way.” My hand is on the doorknob.
“Wait.”
Doña Petra approaches me with an intense stare I cannot hold. “There is only one way to help Eury, but the entrance to el Inframundo will not be cheap. What are you willing to give up?”
“I don’t have much.” I sound like an idiot. I barely have an education. My father doesn’t have a job. I’m broke.
“Dig deep,” Doña Petra says. “Because your love will not be enough. Your anger will not be enough. What do you have of value compared to a tempestuous spirit who came from a world filled with suffering?”
Eury told me I can move mountains if I want to. She said this when I first met her. She whispered this the first night we kissed. They were sentences with such sustenance.
“He can sing,” my father says.
“I heard you sing in church,” Doña Petra says. “You do not believe in your own talent. What makes you think your voice is strong enough to open the doors to the Underworld?”
&nb
sp; She is right. I ain’t nothing. But what else do I have to offer?
“Let me try,” I say. “Please.”
Someone produces a guitar. It’s old and out of tune. My fingers can’t seem to remember how to strike a chord. I’m so nervous. I’m auditioning to see if I got what it takes to travel through space and time for Eury. My throat is parched. It feels like years since I sang on that stage. So little time has transpired, and yet it feels like a lifetime.
I sing the song “Adore.” I close my eyes and channel all the love I have into the verses. I sing so the lyrics reach her, wherever she is. This is for Eury. She’s lost and alone out there. I can help her. I will.
Although this sorrow of mine can fill galaxies, I surrender it and pour the anguish I feel into Prince’s lyrics. I sing until I have nothing left inside.
My voice will save her.
CHAPTER 24
Eury
The juice from the mango drips down my fingers. It follows the curves and angles of my hand. The smell is sweet. I squeeze the fruit harder, and the fibrous pulp covers my palm.
“Aren’t you going to eat that?”
Ato’s cheeks are filled with the treat.
“No,” I say. The river beckons me. I drop the messy remains. It is a small offering to the birds hovering above us.
I dive into the warm river. The strings from the mango float away. A tiny waterfall breaks from the rocks. I lie on my back and allow the sun to kiss me. How wondrous it is to be here.
Ato joins me. The bridge of his nose and cheeks are a little bit red. Glowing. He, too, lies on his back. We are both weightless, allowing the ripples from the waterfall to caress our bodies.
I dunk my head in the water. My long hair pulls on my back like a thick rope. Ato’s curls are untamed. I search for his hand.
We fall asleep on a large flat rock. The birds form a circle around us and stand guard. Or that is what they seem to be doing. When I close my eyes, I don’t dream.
Awake, my head rests on Ato’s chest. He smells of coconut.
My Ato.
“Wake up.” I tug at his curls. He nuzzles against my neck. The sound of the waterfall lulls us back to sleep.
This time it is Ato who taps my shoulder. The area is empty except for the birds. It is ours. No one can take it away from us.
“You must be hungry,” Ato says. He stands and offers his hand. I take it.
“It’s funny,” I say. “I’m not. Maybe I will be later.”
The birds are no longer in a circle. They are in a straight line. Our little winged army.
“The llorosas are visiting us again,” I say.
Ato doesn’t respond, and I’m left wondering if I’m mistaken.
“I know what will help.” He leaves and runs to the bush, which is lush and green. His back and arms are thin but muscular. Ato has the body of a boy who has always worked outside.
He disappears into the bush, and I count to ten backward.
“If he doesn’t return by the time I reach one, you will protect me, won’t you?” I ask the leader of the birds. The small gray llorosa cocks its head to the side.
Ato soon appears with a beautiful, gleaming smile. He eats a sugarcane and offers me a piece. I push it away.
“Don’t you like sugarcane?”
“Stop offering me things to eat,” I say. “I’m not hungry.”
“Let’s take a walk, then,” he says. “Maybe that will help with your appetite.”
I feel out of sorts. It’s not only the hunger that is missing. I can’t quite place it.
“Am I supposed to be doing something?” I ask him.
Ato smiles. He has the longest eyelashes. “No. We’re free to do whatever you want.”
He is like the river, beautiful and wondrous. We walk away from the replenishing waters, and Ato leads me toward our house in the mountains. He caresses my back.
The wooden door to the house is open. We use a bucket of water to wash away the dirt on our feet before entering. A towel was left on the porch to dry our toes. Inside, everything is right where we left it. Simple living room furniture. A kitchen with a table right by a window so I can stare out at the flamboyán blooming so vibrantly. The bedroom we share is to the left. A small bathroom just off to the side of it. Our home.
It takes a few minutes for the shower to warm up. I wait while Ato hums a tune.
“You take a shower first,” I say. “Don’t hog the hot water.”
“What if I do?” he teases.
I sit in the living room, the door still open. I can hear the llorosas by the tree. They rustle and fly about. A delicious breeze enters the house, and I relish it.
“Your turn,” Ato says. He shakes his head, sprinkling water over me. I gently push him away.
In the bathroom, Ato has left me a single hibiscus in a glass of water. I take a long shower and rinse off the day spent in the river from my hair and body. When I’m done, I tuck the hibiscus behind my ear. I wear a flowing yellow dress. Barefoot, I walk to Ato, who stands by the kitchen.
“I have to step out now. I’ll return,” he says. “You want to start dinner while I’m gone?”
“Okay,” I say. “Don’t stay too long. Come back quick.”
“I’ll be back before dark.” Ato pecks me lightly on the cheek before leaving. “I’ll bring you something sweet.”
The tiled kitchen floor feels good against my feet. The refrigerator has exactly what I need. Onions. Peppers. Cloves of garlic. Tomatoes. The knife glides effortlessly across the skin of the onion. I try my best to chop small enough pieces so when I place them in the pan, they will sizzle right away. The aroma fills the room. I pull back the curtain from the window and turn down the stove now that the water is boiling. Ato’ll be famished when he returns. Maybe by then, I’ll be hungry too.
Before I have any chance to worry, Ato enters holding bright yellow carambolas.
“Look what I found,” he says. “They are ripe, ready to eat.”
“Star fruits. They are so pretty.” I place them in a bowl and set the rest on the kitchen table. “Where did you go?”
“Not far. Just making sure everything is in order,” he says. “The food smells so good. I’m starving.”
He serves me a large plate of food. Then he serves himself. I watch him eat. It feels good to cook for him, to do something for the person I love.
“You need to eat, Eury,” he says. “Why aren’t you eating? It’s important.”
I look down at my untouched plate. I take a forkful and stare at the grains of rice and the chunks of chicken. “I don’t know.”
“If you don’t eat, you will get sick, and we will no longer be together. You have to eat. Don’t you want to stay with me?”
“More than anything,” I say. “I’m just not hungry.”
He’s disappointed in me.
“I’m sorry, Ato.”
I leave him to eat his food in peace. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m nervous. Stress can make a person lose their appetite. It will return. I hope.
I walk to our bedroom and lie down. Ato eventually joins me. If I close my eyes, time will stop, and we won’t worry about how I’m failing this test. He wraps his arms around my waist.
“Don’t worry, Eury,” he says. “We’ll try later. Rest for now.”
It’s hard to relax when this silence is so eerie. I don’t trust it.
“Ato, why can’t I hear the coquís? It’s dark out,” I say.
The tiny frogs have always greeted me when the day breaks and night turns. This is an ominous sign. I sense a trap forming around our hearts.
“They are out there. Listen. You can hear them.” Ato presses his lips and makes their singsongy sound.
I strain to hear the frogs. Instead, a llorosa cries out, and a shiver crawls up my arm.
Where did the coquís go?
CHAPTER 25
Pheus
Jaysen doesn’t get it.
“We need you at the hospital,” J
aysen says. “You were the last person to see her. People are starting to talk.”
“Let me get the guitar.” It’s hard to control my anger. It’s not Jaysen’s fault. He’s worried just like I am. We’re both on edge. I can’t tell him what I’m about to do. My head is still spinning since leaving Casita Rincón. I need to keep moving forward.
Jaysen hands over my piece.
“Swear to me right now on your abuela’s grave that you’ll stay close to Eury,” I say. “I will kill you if you don’t.”
“Bro, I swear on everything holy. I’ll stick close to Eury. But ’mano, tell me what you getting into so I can help.”
I grab his arm and pull him in for a tight hug. My heart thumps like it’s about to jump out of my chest. I want Jaysen to come with me, but those in las casitas said this journey was mine alone to take.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, be careful. What’s that shit your Pops always says? Be safe. Don’t be stupid.”
Jaysen walks back to the hospital. I hail a cab and go over what was said in las casitas. I’m so not prepared.
“There is so much for you to overcome,” Doña Petra said. “The gods will not make it easy.”
The elders in Casita Rincón schooled me on what was up. They said Eury is lost in the Underworld. To gain entrance into that world, I will have to entreat the gods. There are three who hold sway in el Inframundo. The first is Charon. He is the bridge between el Inframundo and our world. He must cross me over. Then there is Dīs Pater, the God of Wealth.
“Everything new in this city has ties to Dīs,” the old man said. “The condos. The new supermarket. Even the club Dīs-traction. They say religion is the opium of the masses. I say money is the drug, and the gods are handing it out like water. Beside him, you will find Guabancex, the Goddess of Chaos. She holds Eury’s fate. She is the ruler of the Underworld, the center of the hurricane.”
They spoke to me of these wild things, and all I could do was try to commit the information to memory. The people in las casitas have been about this life for years. Generations upon generations knowledgeable about gods and their hooks on men. As for me, it is straight-up absurd. Those in las casitas think I don’t have much of a chance. I need to try, tho.
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