On another screen, white men talk about Bitcoins in front of landmark cathedrals in San Juan that have been converted into their offices. Their smiles are like vejigantes. They are part alligator and part human.
Other computer screens show medical experiments being done to Black and indigenous women. There is a screen of men’s height being measured and their eyesight checked before being sent off to war. A man fighting in a boxing ring. A woman trying to feed her malnourished newborn. It goes on and on.
I quickly turn around, and a woman suddenly appears, seated in front of the two-tiered building on a regal wooden chair. Her face is furious. There is nothing delicate about her. Her arms stretch out like pillars. The hieroglyphics in the pamphlet from las casitas didn’t do her justice. She is way more magnificent, way more terrifying. Guabancex, the Goddess of Chaos.
A man stands erect beside her, wearing a nagua and shells around his neck. His hair is inky black in a bowl cut, and his arms are as wide as a tree trunk. Dīs Pater. The God of Riches.
“Are you here to add to my collection?” Guabancex asks.
I wince. Her voice is roaring wind. It is surround sound, as if hundreds of speakers are projecting her thunderous tongue.
I fall to my knees from the pain.
“I’ve come for Eury.” I can barely get the words out, but I continue. “She’s not meant to be here.”
“You’re not meant to be here, and yet, here you are.”
The human computers begin to levitate. They go up and down like a perverse attraction.
“I’ve come to offer you a gift,” I say. “A song to bring Eury back to earth.”
Dīs Pater stands still and silent. For a second I wonder if he is even real.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, you are the Goddess of Transformation, the Spiral in the Center, the … the …” I can’t remember the rest of the greeting from the church pamphlet given to me by Doña Petra. Doña Petra, and everything from las casitas, feels like so many years ago. I stumble over my words and foolishly search for the piece of paper.
“I am the Cacique of the Wind, nonbeliever.” Guabancex raises her long arms as if she is about to embrace a person. Instead, a violent gust of wind rises. “And I rule this place.”
The wind picks me up and thrashes me across the courtyard. My guitar is lifted up to the sky and sent barreling down on me, smashing into pieces. The flurry sends me to the other side of the courtyard. I try to hold on to one of the pillars, my nails grating against the stone. It doesn’t help. Soon another blast lifts me up into the air just like my guitar, and I am returned to the center.
I lie there for hours or minutes. I can’t tell. Every single part of my body hurts. I’m bleeding from my nose. My lips are cut. Pants and shirt are torn up. It takes everything for me to get up, but I do. This storm won’t stop me from delivering my present, from saving Eury.
“I’ve come to offer …”
My front tooth is loose and about to fall out. I try again.
“I’ve come to offer you a gift,” I say. The pain is unbearable. I keep talking. “A song to bring Eury back to earth.”
The goddess narrows her eyes, scrutinizing me. “I’ve seen your future.”
The screens change to show my father at the park. His biker crew circles him. They are talking with concerned looks, consoling him. His face is gnarled in worry.
“A man who is unable to keep a job, let alone keep his family together,” the goddess says. The wind picks up strength again but not as furiously as before. I am able to stand against it but not for much longer. “You’re going to end up like him. Wishing you had taken another path. Regretting your choices.”
I shake my head.
“No,” I say. “My father has done his best.”
“His best?” she says with a chuckle. “You don’t even believe your own words.”
The screen shows a close-up of my face as I turn away from my father while he argues on the phone with Mom. I can’t even hide my disappointment.
“Perhaps you are right. But singers are such great seducers. Their voices are charm-inducing infusions,” the goddess says. “Just ask Melaina.”
Melaina appears on the screen. She stares at me while I sing at the beach. When my eyes focus on Eury, I see, for the first time, Melaina’s heartbreak. Her sadness soon turns to anger. The screen flashes to another image. I’m with Melaina. I’m whispering in her ear. She giggles, but her eyes reflect how much she is suffering. Melaina knows this is the only affection I will give her, only the physical. She wanted more, and I didn’t care.
“Stop,” I say. The wind takes my words away.
“Eury was wrong in trusting you. You are not here for her. You are here because you crave the old myth of the hero galloping in to save the damsel,” she says. “It’s great to be loved, on that stage with all your adoring fans. Now that is what you truly want.”
“I’m here for Eury,” I say.
“Like so many others who roam the earth doubting what is right in front of them, you too are a skeptic. You do not deserve an audience with me,” Guabancex says. “Cut his tongue out.”
Dīs pulls out a glistening blade. The knife practically glows.
CHAPTER 34
Eury
Guabancex leads me to the courtyard where a magnificent woman sits on a wooden throne like royalty. Beside her stands a man just as menacing and fearsome.
“That’s you,” I say, pointing to the seated woman.
“Yes, it is,” Guabancex says.
Her smile offers no comfort. I’m suddenly hit with the realization of how much I miss my mother. How far I am away from home and those who love me, stuck in an evil place where a god can appear in two places at the same time.
The seated goddess wages war on a boy. She sends his body flying with nothing but a breath.
“Pheus!” I scream.
“He overcame such obstacles and managed to cross Charon’s bridge because he wanted to save you. Aren’t you impressed?” she says. “A knight traveling to the Underworld to be your savior.”
“He doesn’t deserve to be punished for it,” I say. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore. I beg you.”
What can I do to save Pheus, to save us? Guabancex watches the spectacle of pain like it’s a theater production. Pheus and I are not playthings. We are more than that.
I turn and face her.
“Let us go,” I say with determination. “We traveled through this hell and still found a way to come together. Our love for each other led us here.”
Out in the courtyard, the winds begin to pick up again. Pheus tries to stand, but he’s losing strength.
“I am not here to only witness something as impractical as love. What matters is disorder,” she says. “Chaos is where I find value. The unpredictability of humans. Case in point: Who would have thought the once-selfish Orpheus would have ventured to the Underworld in such a selfless act?”
The man in the courtyard pulls out a long knife. The goddess no longer negotiates with Pheus. What if all of this ends here?
No. This whole elaborate place is a set piece and el Inframundo is a large board game. We are pawns meant to entertain, and this game is not over.
“You won’t kill Pheus because he still has enough fire in him to scorch this place to the ground,” I say. “As do I. Together, we’re unstoppable.”
“You’re quite the alchemist too,” she says. “Aren’t you, Ato?”
I don’t have to turn around to know Ato stands behind me. I want to tear his face off. To grab the knife from the god in the courtyard and use it.
This is a form of cruelty, to present my abuser back to me. She is the Goddess of Chaos, and what she wants is unpredictability. I know my anger is exactly what she expects, but it’s the only emotion I have right now.
“Let Ato take Pheus’s place. Cut his tongue out instead.”
She clucks, a surreal human reaction coming from a god. “Poor Ato. He believed in love
too, just like your friend Pheus.”
Love? Ato doesn’t understand what love is. He is a parasite. I turn away from him, because ignoring him is the one thing that will eventually destroy him.
“Ato is not important,” I say.
“Your eagerness to leave el Inframundo is misplaced,” Guabancex says. “Those above are incapable of helping you. It is part of your lineage to wallow in misery. At least here you can live in paradise.”
The goddess points to the computer screens. A young girl appears on one of them. Although it is daylight, she lies in her bed with the covers over her head. She’s been crying. Her mother enters the room and drags her off the bed. She yells at the girl and forces her to hold a broom and a dustpan.
“I don’t want to see you crying over una tontería. I’m tired of your laziness,” the mother yells. “We don’t have the luxury to be sad.”
The girl does as her mother says, but her shoulders stay slumped. Whenever someone tries to address her, she can’t meet their eyes. Those around her accuse her of pretending to be sad to get out of doing things.
The video jumps to another scene, and the girl is now a young woman. I’ve never seen Mami so beautiful with her long, flowing hair, but her face is pained. She rubs her belly, and I know I’m in there. She’s on the phone, trying to explain how her sadness seems unbearable. But the person on the other end just yells. Mami begs for the person to understand, how she doesn’t feel well. “I feel like a dark cloud presses down on me,” she says. The person she talks to continues to reprimand her.
Another cut. My mother stares at the crib where I lie as if she is looking at a stranger. Papi is in the hospital with her. He tells her to hold me, but she doesn’t want to. Papi doesn’t understand. He says harsh words to her that make her cry. Mami tries to explain how she feels, but eventually she gives up. “How can you not love your own baby?” Papi asks. He cradles me until I fall asleep in his arms. Mami stares out the window, wiping her tears away.
I’m filled with such despair watching parts of Mami’s life I’ve never seen before. Seeing her in such torment as a child. A depression no one understood. Not even her mother or her husband. I can’t stop crying. Mami’s suffering can’t simply be wished away by prayers, but it is not a source of weakness. My family’s legacy is not tied to hardship we must harbor inside of us like a rock.
“Your mother battles demons of her own,” the goddess says. “At least in el Inframundo you would no longer be afflicted like her. Isn’t that what you want? What your mother would want for you?”
I shake my head and try to stop myself from spiraling. El Inframundo isn’t an antidote to what ails me because a gilded cage is still a cage. My poor mother. She only wants to help, but I can see how even Mami’s suggestion to go to church and pray may have been wrong. But how can I fault her after seeing what she went through? My heart breaks for her.
“My mother only wants me to be well, and I want the same for her,” I say in between sobs. “You show me only snippets of Mami’s history, and perhaps they may be intertwined with mine, but we are not bound to them. El Inframundo isn’t reality, and I was never given a choice.”
I am running out of time. I dig deep within.
“Let me go so you can see how truly unpredictable my life will be. All of us. Mami, Penelope. My aunt. Everyone. Pheus and I are products of a world where we are not meant to flourish, but we will. With every single obstacle put in front of us, we still persevere. We will thrive in spite of it.”
Guabancex doesn’t change her expression. She is stone, but I continue.
“I’m not meant to be alive, and yet here I am. We will show you,” I say. “In the chaos you create, you will find our pattern of hope.”
The god slowly walks to Pheus. The hand holding the knife is raised. He is about to strike. Pheus lifts his chin as if offering it to him. I hold my breath.
“Perhaps.”
With that, the goddess in front of me vanishes. There is one goddess now, and she is still seated on the throne watching the fallen Pheus.
Let light shine over Pheus. Let grace guide us out of this place.
I pour my being into these sentences. I have only this faith to carry us.
CHAPTER 35
Pheus
The images on the screen continue to loop. My mother urging me to do better in math. My mother screaming at my father to get his shit together. Melaina brushing away tears. Cut to me playing up to the audience onstage like an asqueroso. The screens freeze on a close-up of my face leering at the girls in the audience like a lechón.
Guabancex is the director of this video compilation, and she’s pleased with her work. She has seen me at my very worst and thinks that is the course I am destined to take. If ego drove me to the Underworld, love will surely lead me home. This is a fact.
Dīs Pater slowly makes his way to me. He raises his knife. If I’m meant to go, then I’m taking everything down with me. Everything.
Before Dīs Pater reaches me, I run over to the screens and the levitating bodies. I shove them out of my way. I don’t look behind me to see what Dīs is doing, whether or not he’s about to swing. I bash the screen with my fist and shatter it to pieces. Blood covers my knuckles. I keep going. Push the other computer screens to the floor. Kick them in.
“This is what I think of your videos!”
I ignore the pain in my hands. The cuts. The videos are ugly reminders that I’ve squandered my gift of music to manipulate others, like Melaina. I’ve treated it as a hobby and—because of fear—ignored Pops’s advice to take my singing seriously. Pops always believed in my ability, but to consider this path meant to trust a man I was ashamed of. What did he know? He seemed lost, and I didn’t want to be lost too.
But I’m not bound to these doubts, to this narrative. I can change.
When I am done destroying the screens, I stand before Guabancex. I’m torn up from my head down to my toes. There is nothing but pain. I settle my breathing and listen to the voice of my father telling me I am good, telling me I am blessed. I listen to Eury saying the same thing.
I have to give it one last try. I’ve made it this far. One last attempt to reach the celestial heavens and the depths of hell with a song.
The song I sing is the one I made for Eury. The lyrics have a vulnerability boys like me, from the places I grew up, are not allowed to show. I bare it all because this song was meant to save us. Not just Eury, but me. To take me away from the roles I’ve forged. El amante. The player. The one to seduce the girls into doing what I want. Instead, I found Eury and finally dropped my dumb tiguere moves. The title of the song is “My Promise.”
No more sweet lies. This heart only has room for Eury.
Una promesa de amor es la prueba.
No more playing el macho. This world can’t contain her beauty,
Una promesa de amor que llega al alma.
Take this lament, we will bury it deep.
Take my hand, we will be created anew.
This I promise. This I promise.
No more denying what you see. Your words are truth.
Tus labios me encuentro, in this world and the next.
No more acting like I know. Time to walk in faith.
Tus brazos I fall for, mi verdadero amor will end this hex.
Take this lament, we will bury it deep.
Take my hand, we will create anew.
This I promise. This I promise.
When the song ends, I sing another, this time “Amorcito de Mi Alma” by José Manuel Calderón. I think of my parents and how they both want only the best for me. How I wish their love was enough. When I’m done, I continue with the song “Sombras Nada Más” by Javier Solís.
I lay it all out. I have nothing left to give.
Guabancex says nothing, but at least Dīs Pater puts away the knife.
The screens I destroyed slowly rebuild themselves. The shattered pieces, the holes I kicked in, fixed within minutes. The bodies stand up. They connect
themselves right back to the machines. Everything returns to as before.
“How long have you known Eury?” Guabancex asks.
“I’ve known her all my life although we just met.” I sound corny, and I can hear Jaysen ragging on me for stating such drivel. It’s the truth, though. There are people I have crossed paths with before. This was something my father would say to me, and I would brush him off. If this place exists, so do other realms. Perhaps, in those other realms, Eury and I had met. It is possible. I know that now.
There is a silence that is almost defeating. The goddess and the god are still as statues. I wait.
“Because I am benevolent, I will let you escort Eury back upstairs.”
I drop to my knees and cry. The emotions just pour out along with my anxiety and anguish. I’m a mess, but I allow myself to feel this rawness without judgement.
She gestures with her hand across the courtyard, where an opening reveals the side of a hill, like any random hill you find in the Bronx. A reminder of what the Bronx must have looked like before buildings. A rural town where immigrants tried to carve a home.
“You have one minor obstacle to overcome,” she says. “Eury will walk behind you. You will not hear her. She will be unable to touch you. If you turn around just once, she will stay here in el Inframundo forever.”
Nothing is ever easy. One more obstacle to overcome.
“No problem,” I say.
I can do this. She will be behind me, and I will guide her out of here. I don’t care that I won’t be able to see her. All that matters is that we leave and never return. We are so close. Be safe. Don’t be stupid. Pops’s words are forever at the forefront of my thoughts. They have guided me to this very moment. One simple task. To conjure up enough faith to walk us up the hill and straight home.
The goddess sighs.
Never Look Back Page 18
