“Your last meal was light?”
“Yeah. Regretting it. Guess it was the time to eat copious amounts of chocolate cake or something and it is too late now!”
He grinned. “I miss chocolate cake. I haven't had any for so long. I need to get back to America more.”
“No one makes chocolate cake in Mexico?”
“Well, sure. But my mother has the most divine recipe. I can almost taste it now.” He licked his lips.
“Yeah, it's been a couple of days or more, and I haven't eaten anything,” I explained.
“Or drank?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm,” he looked thoughtful for a moment. He studied me intently before continuing. “Well, you don't look like you are getting dehydrated or anything. Do you feel OK?”
“See, that's just it. I feel great. I'm kind of concerned because Leahonia is already questioning it. She offered me food at her house earlier. What am I supposed to do if I'm not hungry, thirsty, or sleepy?”
“That could be problematic.”
“Indeed. I tried to brush it off. But I know she's coming back. She wants me to go over there tonight. What am I supposed to do all night long if I don't need to sleep?”
“Read? I have plenty of books. I would say do something to bring as little attention to yourself as possible. Other than that, just lay there?”
I could tell he was stumped like me. It could go very wrong if I wasn't careful. How would I blend in with living folks if I didn't do basic things? Getting a cup of coffee or a bite to eat? Those were normal everyday tasks for the living.
But, read one of his books? The one snoozefest book came immediately to my mind. Well, if I wanted to sleep, that was the right one. I'd sleep like the dead – pun very much intended. “Got anything a bit lighter?”
Anything? Cozy mystery? Latest issue of Cosmo? Anything? Yeah, like a brainiac and a guy would have anything like that? Not likely.
Given Leahonia's decent, but broken English, I was guessing not a lot would be at her house. It was probably all in Spanish. If those words weren't related to food, I'd be lost.
“Probably not. We'll figure it out. Let's tackle the food. I could really go for a snack. Actually, I'm really hungry.”
He waded through his notes and books to the little kitchen area. Only reason you could see anything was thanks to Leahonia's hard work. He picked up two pieces of fruit from a bowl resting by the sink and bit into one. I could tell he liked it from the way he devoured it and moved to the second piece. Within a few minutes, he was done and there was some nice food trash created.
“What purpose did that serve? Other than to help with your hunger issues?”
“Now there's sign of two pieces of fruit being eaten. There are two of us.”
Seemed a little too easy. “You think that she's going to buy I ate a piece of fruit here and that's all I need?”
“Maybe. Everyone knows that American women don't eat anything. They are always watching their weight, their carbs, their whatever.” He winked at me.
This was his plan? To let her think I eat like one fruit a day? I suppose it was better than no plan at all, but still! It seemed rather thin to me.
“Well, sure. If she notices that. But, I'm a horrible liar. What do I do if she doesn't notice?”
“Got me. We'll figure out a way to make sure she notices. Try to move food around on your plate so it looks like you are eating. Just keep up with the watching your weight thing and maybe it'll work out.”
I was skeptical. Leahonia didn't seem that stupid to me. No way she'd buy one piece of fruit. Maybe I was wrong. It was worth a shot if nothing else. It would have been nice if I had some guidance. I was never one for being a loner and now here I was a lonely dead girl. I tried to take comfort in the fact that Jon didn't seem to mind my differences, but it didn't mean a whole lot right then.
Perhaps it would be good to stay here. Not many people, less of a chance of being found out, that sort of a thing. Could I really go forever without designer labels and good stores? We went back to straightening things up quietly. There didn't seem much more to talk about at this point. I did manage to convince Jon to let me organize his books a bit. By the time Leahonia returned, two shelves of his bookcase actually held books.
To give her credit, Leahonia took in the sight without much more than a double take. I'm sure she could have said so many snarky comments. I know I would have. Instead she took it all in stride.
Jon came with us to Leahonia's. Just my luck, as we walked, she informed us she would make us a wonderful dinner. I bet it would be wonderful, but how was I going to get through it? In the end, I did get through it. Like Jon said, I pushed food around on my plate.
I didn't take much to begin with. I just hoped that she bought it. Later that night, I couldn't sleep. I looked at every photograph of Leahonia's family, I leafed through pictures drawn by her kids.
I made it through the night, and I got out of breakfast, offering to take something to Jon. She prepared food for both of us and sent me on my way. I even found my way without getting lost.
And that was it. We piled into Jon's truck, Leahonia and her family in the bed and me in the cab with Jon. We bumped along what could barely be called roads. Jon knew the way and we rode mostly in silence, listening to the noise from Leahonia's family in the back.
I didn't know where we were going or what would happen when we got there. If I had, I might have chosen to just hide from reality back at Jon's place a while longer.
c
chapter fifteen
How I survived the bumpy ride in a beater truck along roads resembling a post- apocalyptic nightmare, I'd never know. We got to our destination and that's all that mattered. I suffered no broken bones, and a quick inspection showed no bruising. I considered myself lucky. As we helped Leahonia and her family down out of the bed of the truck, I noticed they seemed none the worse for wear, either.
I wasn't sure what I expected, other than some juxtaposition of my American view of Halloween with a Mexican backdrop. It wasn't like that, but it was interesting.
We parked on the outskirts of a rundown town and walked in. I looked at my feet, thankful for the sandals that Leahonia found me that morning. There's no way I could’ve handled all that walking in my one and only pair of Choos. Lesson learned - next time you go off for the back end of nowhere, wear a trusty pair of sneakers. You never knew when you were going to die and get stranded. But I wasn’t going all sensible. Oh no. I could get a pair of sneakers and still look good. Wait till I figured out how to replace my Amex. My credit card was going to get a workout.
It was still early in the day, so the festivities weren't in full bloom yet. I was assured that as the day progressed, the excitement would truly begin. Fine by me. It may have been called Day of the Dead, but who wanted to do spooky stuff in the middle of the day? Bring on the night! Besides, I lived for the nightlife!
I was able to watch people set up tables with displays as I quietly walked through the small town. The splash of color and cheerful laughter filled my heart with joy. These people knew how to make the best of death - they celebrated!
Finally, my curiosity got the better of me. “Jon, what are they doing to their doors?”
“It's for the Altar Contest.” As usual, his answer didn't hold a lot of information.
“New girl. No clue. Altar for what?” The thought of an altar didn't fill me with a lot of good memories. Not after that gross cootie one from the temple.
“The locals have this contest. It's pretty cool. The winners in each little area actually travel to Merida. Anyway, the altars they decorate by their doors are for the dead.”
“And just why do they have an altar for the dead? What do they plan to do with the altar?” My mind flashed back to the one that Jon so recently used for a dead person – me!
“Oh, they are for show. It is the place they use to honor their loved ones. See, like this one,” he gestured to one before us.
; I looked at the altar, little more than a small table. Covering it was a handmade cloth with exquisite detail work. Along the edge of the cloth, forming a circle, were embroidered yellow and pink flowers. As I looked at the various pictures resting on top of the table, I saw a young woman, maybe five or six years younger than myself. She looked so full of life in the portraits, but I knew she was gone from this earth. How sad that she died young, like me. Before she really got a chance to live.
“She was so young...” If my voice sounded sad, it was. I felt such sadness for both of us. This girl probably would have done more with that second chance than I had.
“Si, Señorita.” Leahonia's quiet words startled me.
“What happened?”
“She die of sickness. There no money for good doctor. She stay here and she die. Six month ago. She made this cloth. It for her marriage home. She to marry... maybe one month ago?”
“She made this?” I look back at the tablecloth. I couldn't imagine the hours she put into it. When I moved out of my parents’ place, I just went to the local store for my
linens.
“Si, Senorita.”
“Leahonia, I told you. Bea. Please. Call me Bea.”
Leahonia blushed. She was so polite and kind. I don't know if she would ever call me Bea, but I hoped so. Feeling awkward myself, I turned back to the altar.
Jon pointed at a plate. It held some sort of food. “This is a special chicken meal they make, just for this day.”
Why did all holidays have traditional foods? Wasn't it weird that we always had things revolve around food? I never noticed it until I died, and it seemed like my appetite mostly vanished.
I looked at the various crosses and rosaries spread on the table. There was one that drew my eye. I had no idea what the stones were for the rosary, but they were a lovely shade of rose. The cross that hung from the bottom was silver toned and quite ornate. The picture in front of it showed an older woman wearing the rosary kissing a young girl.
“Wow. That's just lovely.” My voice barely a breath.
“Si. That grandma and she gave this rosary before she die. It very special.”
“Thanks, Leahonia.” It was nice to have her along for the local information. She filled us in on several other altars as we walked around. She knew many of the people from this village.
We drew close to the last little home with an altar out front. The altar combined simplicity and elegance at the same time. That was a knack I'd never managed to perfect, but definitely admired in others. The frames all matched, and the photographs were in black and white. A gentleman well into his sixties stared back at me from the black and white photographs. The table bore items I assumed were his. A hand carved pipe, a cane, a key chain. Signs of things he used often, I was sure. The amount of love that went into this project was endearing. I wondered how anyone could feel that way about someone else.
“Mama!” Leahonia cried to the woman behind the altar. A short yet stout woman stood up from where she was kneeling.“Lea!” A sea of Spanish followed as the two women embraced. I gave up trying to understand the flurry of words traveling between the two.
“This is Leahonia's mother. They do this every time they get together. Be thankful that's not real often. Neither really have the money to be traveling back and forth a lot."
My parents lived less than two miles away. Maybe. I didn't know, I'd never been good with distances. It took me no time to get to them. I definitely enjoyed living close enough to my parents that we could see each other often. Though sometimes I wondered if it was too often.
We stood by quietly while Leahonia's mother embraced Leahonia's two sons and one daughter. She then came and gave Jon a tight hug. She was a tiny woman; she only came about halfway up his chest.
“Señor Juan! Good to see you! And this? Who this? Girlfriend?” She came towards me with open arms.
I thought he might choke. Geez, was I so bad? “Um no, Mama Camila.”
“No? You good together!” She hugged me tight anyway. Uncomfortable in her embrace, I tried to put my arms around her. Good thing I didn't need to breathe as much as regular folk, I'd have suffocated on the spot. How could one tiny woman harness that sort of power?
“No, I'm just a friend.” I tried to tell her, though where I found the air to get it out would probably stump the most famous of detectives.
“Bah friend!” She dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand.
“No, just a friend, Mama.” He didn't sound too convincing and I could tell she wasn't about to buy that. This woman was a tough cookie. No fooling her, which made me all the more uncomfortable in her arms.
I tried to wrestle away, but that was hard. She must have realized how tight she was squeezing me because her embrace loosened. I managed to win my freedom, but I still worried. Could she tell if my skin was too cold? Or that I hadn't slept or eaten in days? That I was something more than what I looked like outside? I fretted over her randomly guessing I was dead.
What would I do if she started questioning things? I took a few steps back, hoping that if I was further away, she might not embrace me again. I've never been much of the huggie sort, anyway. Now that I was dead, I had a secret that I really didn't want to have take me to the grave.
So, I tried to back up Jon. “Yes, we're friends. It's been a crazy few days. He and Leahonia have been so kind to me.”
Yes, backing Jon up seemed good.
“I see more. Welcome! Any friend Señor Juan, friend us. Come around. I make lunch. You hungry?”
Well crap. This was going to go over like a ton of bricks. Maybe that old cliché wasn't even good. What was worse than a ton of bricks? I couldn't think of anything so decided ton of bricks would have to work. I wished to be said ton of bricks right now though, since bricks didn’t need to deal with offers of food.
Jon's stomach grumbled. Thanks for the moral support, buddy.
Okay, so that was rude. What was he supposed to do? Abstain from food as long as I did as some sort of wacky solidarity thing? I don't think that's quite what anyone would expect. I know, whine, whine, whine. Oh, I have no appetite. Blah blah blah. But really.? I knew it was yummy. People didn’t make those kinds of sounds deep in their throats if the food was gross. and I was kind of missing that experience.
Jon followed Leahonia and Camila around the altar to enter the humble home. The inside looked much like Leahonia's: neat as a pin and homey with the flair of their native country. I instantly felt welcome. Until we reached the kitchen and I saw the feast before us. Queue discomfort to re-take the stage.
“I think I want to go for a walk. Look at more of the altars and stuff.” I edged back the way that we'd come. “We don't do anything like this in America.”
Going for a walk on my own probably wasn't such a good idea, but I didn't think I could stand there while everyone ate. It was hard enough last night at the dinner Leahonia prepared for her family. This looked like the sort of thing you'd see at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Huge. Massive. More food than an army could eat.
I saw steaming refried beans and rice. Chips. Salsa. More rice. Chicken. Beef. Tortilla shells. Corn. You name it. It was here. Somewhere, a grocery store's shelves were bare. If I didn't eat or tried to fake eating, I knew it would end badly. Feelings would be hurt. I needed to find a way to avoid this mess in the making. Feigning distraction from the festival had to buy me some time.
“No, no, eat. Wait. We go out later.” Leahonia’s look worried me. If she had suspicions, they would be warranted. I really needed to get out of there. The walls felt like they were closing in on me.
“Maybe I should go with her. She is really excited about this.”
Oh, good. Jon read my mind. I could kiss him. Wait, I didn't want to do that again, no matter how much I enjoyed it.
“Here, take this with you.” Camila shoved chicken legs at us.
Food to go? You betcha. I took the offered food and wondered what I'd do with it. Smelling it made me feel a bit nauseo
us. I better get out of there before I turned green. What would happen if I threw up? I hadn't eaten anything in forever. There couldn't be anything to throw up. Gross. I didn't want to find out. I moved as fast as Jon would let me. Escaping into the fresh air outside I shoved the chicken leg at him.
“Take this. Please. It's making me sick.”
He looked startled but took it. As we walked, he tore into the chicken legs. One in each hand. He looked all the part of a kid at the county fair. As long as I didn't have to see the chicken, that was fine by me. He could have at it. I, meanwhile, tried to wipe every trace of the chicken from my hand. If I wasn't careful, I'd rub my hand raw on my pants.
Through his chicken he asked, “Really? Sick? This is so delicious!”
Like I wanted to hear that? No. Uncool. My temper flared. “What the hell? That stuff is nasty. I want nothing to do with it so you can keep your peanut gallery comments to yourself.”
It didn't faze him. He kept right on chewing. Gross. I swear he was eating as noisily as possible just to annoy me.
“You should try it. You might like it.”
My stomach rolled. “I don't want it. Leave me alone. I don't need you to follow me either. You can go be a schmuck on your own time.”
I tried to distance myself from him, but at that moment something whizzed by my ear. Jon stopped. I kept walking. “What was that?”
I turned to look at him. “I don't care what that was. I'm getting away from you and your food.”
Something else came through the air at me. I ducked just before it would have hit me in the eye.
Then again, maybe I didn't want to get away from Jon. What the hell was that and why was it aimed at me? There's no way something came at a person like that without intentional aim.
“Um, Bea?”
“Yeah, I know. Let's get out of here together.” I took off running and I heard him following right behind. He shoved me to the right, and we ducked around the side of a house.
“Let's turn back around this way. Maybe we can get back to Camila's.”
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