Can’t you see I’m not like them?
I don’t know why he decided to come along, but after looking at his scuffed watch with its raggedy band for a few seconds, he nodded. We stuffed our makeshift picnic items into our bags and walked past the white wall that surrounded the Citadelle. Where we were going wasn’t far. We headed toward a small group of homes that stood on the edge of the cobbled road that was on a steeply angled incline. The houses were modest at best, held up by wooden planks for walls and metal sheets for roofs. It was unnervingly quiet and devoid of people.
We stopped when we saw her, sprinkling water over a low fire in front of the smallest home. Roseline grabbed an urn full of what looked like dirt and motioned for us to follow her inside. The door had no locks. It’d been empty since her mother died and the neighbors discovered a ten-year-old girl crying in the middle of the night. They had taken turns caring for her until Maman, on her usual self-congratulatory stroll through the Citadelle, heard about the abandoned child down the road and decided to bring her in, earning the praise of rich and poor alike. Roseline had been with us ever since.
Back in the home she’d tried to escape to many times, Roseline glowed. She’d braided her thick black hair into a dozen or so individual plaits and wrapped them into a low bun held in place by a blue-and-red scarf. I opened my mouth to explain Andres’s and Jules’s presence, but she waved me quiet.
“Everyone who is meant to be here is here,” she said. “Sisters and strangers, I know what brings you to my mother’s house.”
We fidgeted under her gaze. Roseline’s mother had been a popular mambo. So many people had been willing to help Roseline all those years ago because her mom had healed them or solved their problems. I suspected Maman had taken Roseline in hopes of getting some residual benediksyon. My parents rarely did anything without calculating potential costs or benefits.
Estelle grabbed Andres’s hand and Jules stole another glance at his watch. Roseline motioned for us to come closer and to stand side by side. She stepped in front of each person individually, stopping to flip over our hands, palms up. As she ran a finger down my own hand’s life line, I shuddered.
“More than one hundred and fifty years ago, the fates of Celeste and Estelle were sealed,” Roseline began. “Not only them—two halves of the same womb—but all the subsequent generations whose lives have sprung from Henri Christophe and Marie-Louise Coidavid’s union.”
Andres snickered and made crude finger gestures when Roseline mentioned “union.” Estelle tutted in disapproval as I met Jules’s nervous gaze and rolled my eyes.
“The actions of those long dead leave our friends trapped. They are cursed, you see, and we gather here today to break it,” Roseline said. She sounded almost as though she were in a trance, pulsing with all the power she hadn’t had when she was crying in my room days ago. Jules’s eyes sprang open wide. He looked ready to run as far away from us as he could. I could see him mentally calculating how far his school bus could be by now.
“Stay,” Roseline said simply, looking directly into his eyes. “Celeste may be the cause of our meeting today, but she doesn’t have to be the sole reason. I sense what you desire most in the world and I can help you attain it. All I ask for is payment.”
“Ugh. A scam,” Andres scoffed. “I should’ve known.”
She put up her hand. “Not for me, boy. I can taste what we all want on the tip of my tongue. Money. Power. Love. Success. You can get it—and supersede this family curse—but I need a commitment. We will be tied to each other. I’ll guide us here, but it will be your responsibility to see this through.”
“What do you want us to do?” Estelle asked nervously.
“I am just a vessel. The spirits will lead you to a site on the island to collect its soil. There must be no delay in this. If the payment is missed, the contract we will enter will be null. If you hesitate too long or fail to do it, there will be painful consequences.”
“Wh-wh-what do you use the d-d-dirt for?” stammered Jules.
“Nothing is free,” she said. “We must incorporate the earth because it’s the earth that grants us these things. Dakò?”
We were reckless enough to agree. After a quick glance around with no objections, we nodded. In the moment, I told myself that I expected nothing to come of this besides hopefully putting Roseline in a better mood... But what if...what if she succeeded?
Roseline lit the thick deep red candle that already sat in the urn. The scent of spicy cinnamon and nutmeg filled my nostrils. She turned for the hefty glass bottle of aged amber rum standing on the table behind her that Andres had been eyeing with interest. It was my father’s favorite liquor. She untwisted the cap and took a swig, then handed it to me and motioned for me to take a gulp and pass it on to Estelle next as she walked around us, circling like a cat. She lifted Jules’s head with her finger and pulled quickly at a hair. Beside the bottle of rum was a wooden mortar and pestle. She handed the mortar to me and the thick stick to Estelle and motioned for us to take turns grinding the green leaves inside. She slid what looked like small blue stones in both Andres’s and Jules’s palms and directed them to nestle the items into the ground leaves. A blue liquid oozed from their centers.
“Ow!” Estelle yelped, examining her thumb. Roseline grabbed her hand and pulled out the splinter that was lodged shallowly in her finger.
She flicked in the tiny piece of wood, just barely glistening with a hint of her blood.
“Here,” Roseline said. She rinsed my sister’s hand with a few splashes of Florida water. She stirred the mortar’s contents and poured the liquid and paste into the urn. When she pulled out a small knife from beside the urn, we all took a step back. The knife in her hand mirrored the symbol of a dagger plunging through a heart that was drawn with a cornmeal powder on the floor.
“I definitely didn’t sign up for that,” Andres said.
Roseline took the knife and dipped it into the urn. Five drops of the fluid fell onto the candle’s flame, a small cloud of smoke rising after each drop made contact. My nose tickled at the citrus scent now wafting around the room. Her irises shone as red as rubies and two faint scars emerged on her face. I blinked twice to adjust my lying eyes.
I held in a gasp as the candle flickered back to life. “Look at the fire and envision what your heart yearns for,” she demanded. She stared into the smoke for an eternity before looking up. “The deed is done.”
Saturday, February 9
From the Desk of Celeste Dubois
It started with a whisper. An insistent murmuring at the back of my head that I refused to acknowledge. A breath of air passing by my ear until it grew into a restless chatter that was finally too loud to ignore. I still couldn’t explain what we’d partaken in yesterday, nor did I fully believe it would change anything. But I told Roseline we would see this through. Without a word, we all knew we would go to Bois Caïman.
Estelle, Jules, and I sat quietly in Andres’s car, lost in thought, as we sped toward the ancient forest that was purported to be the start of the Haitian Revolution. Legend maintained that slaves conducted a secret ceremony that eventually led them to defeating their white overlords. As if slitting a pig’s throat and not carefully thought-out machinations were behind the people’s liberation. Papi always said that if the story was true, it was the last time, if not the only, that Haiti was able to come together as one. Roseline would say that they hadn’t succeeded in getting rid of all slaves. She was hard at work marinating a Cornish hen when Estelle and I stumbled downstairs with the same idea.
“Go,” Roseline said.
Somehow, we instinctively sensed where to head for the collection. An internal compass lodged in our cores directed us as we passed under low-hanging branches and climbed over high-arching roots. We wound deeper and deeper into the forest until finally we stood at a tree with the widest trunk, stretching out on either side farther th
an I could wrap my arms around. It stood separate from the surrounding trees.
“Well...here we are,” I said, breaking the silence.
“What do we do?” asked Estelle, her voice barely above a whisper. I could feel the fear rippling off my sister. I wondered if the others could too.
“We dig,” answered Jules in a voice that sounded surer than he looked.
Andres stepped ahead of us to the base of the tree and crouched down. No one had thought to pack a shovel, so we all sat on the ground beside him and used our hands to pile dirt into our respective large containers. I tried not to think of all the dirt lodging under my nails as I cracked through the hard earth.
We worked side by side, falling into silence once again. I shivered in the uncharacteristically brisk evening air and looked up at the sky. The moon was almost fully obstructed by the surrounding clouds. The thin sliver shining through was a sinister grin.
“I think we should stop,” Estelle said abruptly. She stood up and wiped her hands on the front of the loose-fitting polka-dot dress she was wearing. She looked older than seventeen when she faced us now, the shadows adding years to her face. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s creepy and I think we’re making a mistake. And...I’m scared.”
“What are you talking about?” Andres asked. “We said that we wanted to do this.”
“Yes,” Estelle responded. “But that was before...before...”
“Before what?” He stood up, towering above Estelle as she stared up at him. Her mouth opened and shut as she searched for the words to speak.
“I should have told you earlier. But...I think I’m—” Estelle let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. She wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection, working her jaw again, this time in silent prayer.
“Estelle!” I raced toward my sister. As I reached out to her, she recoiled from me, her body convulsing on the forest floor.
“I didn’t drink it. I didn’t drink it. I didn’t drink it,” she kept whispering the phrase like a chant.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?!” I said.
Jules pointed at Estelle, his face in shock, and I saw what made him tremble. The front of her dress was red, dark blood seeping through the white dots of fabric at an alarming rate. Andres shouted and ran toward her. Again, an invisible shock leaped through Estelle’s body, and she crawled away from him. Her scream carved through my soul, a piece of my being ripped out with her drawn-out breath.
“We have to take her to a doctor,” I screamed.
“We c-can’t stop,” Jules shouted over Estelle’s screams. “I think that’s wh-what’s causing this!”
“Keep going,” Estelle gasped out. “Roseline warned us.”
The three of us threw ourselves to the ground, clawing the earth into our jars. Estelle lay near us, her breathing now coming in shallow pants as sweat drenched through the parts of her clothes that were not already covered in sticky blood. I gingerly approached my sister and reached out slowly until I cupped her hands to help her fill the rest of her glass jar to the brim. The nighttime clouds dissipated until the moon shone brightly in the clear, red sky. Estelle gave a violent shudder, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, and then she was still. You would almost think that she was asleep. We slowly crept toward her and I held my breath as I placed my hand in front of her nose.
“Oh, thank God. She’s still breathing,” I cried, a sob escaping my throat. “We need to get her help!”
Andres and Jules sprang up from the ground, each of them grabbing one of Estelle’s arms and draping them over their shoulders. She didn’t so much as blink as the boys dragged her to the car. We piled into the convertible once more and raced to the hospital with no idea how to explain what happened. My sister started convulsing, but we kept digging. When we arrived, Jules ran ahead, shout-stuttering about his friend who was dying.
There was no time for questions as the nurses came to the open car door and quickly collected Estelle. They placed her on a gurney and raced into the building with her, urgency in their voices as they shouted for people to make way. I followed until I was barred from getting closer. They made a sharp turn around a corner, and Estelle’s right arm dangled lifelessly over the edge of the moving bed.
Andres, Jules, and I waited for hours. My parents didn’t care what we did with our free time as long as we didn’t embarrass them, but even they must have been worried about us by now. I couldn’t bear the thought of spelling anything out to them, but I called the house anyway. No one answered. I wondered for a moment where Roseline was, but then I was preoccupied with fear for my sister. Was Estelle okay? Was she in pain? Had she made it through the night? The boys and I ambushed each nurse who passed by, asking endless questions about her. But none of them could say a thing and eventually they stayed away from us. Word must’ve gotten out to avoid the three bloody teenagers if they wanted to get any work done.
Finally, a doctor in black scrubs made his way over to where we huddled. His small, round glasses sat perched on the edge of his wide nose, the legs of the spectacles disappearing into thick white tufts of hair, glaringly different from the shining bald spot that reflected the hospital lights. He held his small surgical cap in both hands, twisting it this way and that as he stood before us. My stomach dropped. Something had gone wrong. I could see it in the way his brown eyes lowered to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor began. “The girl is fine, but I could not save the baby.”
“Baby?!” Andres and I exclaimed in unison.
“Yes,” the older man answered, staring intently into Andres’s eyes. “She was only a few months along... I’ve never seen anything like this before. It was like someone had ripped the fetus from inside her.”
I swayed on my feet. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t had anything to eat in hours and had been up all night. Or maybe it was the news. Or the crushing realization that Estelle meant that she hadn’t drunk the rum. But I could no longer keep myself upright. My knees buckled and in seconds Jules was behind me, lowering me into a seat.
“When can we see her?” Jules asked, placing a protective hand on my shoulder.
“She’s resting,” the doctor said. “But we’ll let you know as soon as she wakes up. The worst has passed.”
Jules thanked the doctor while Andres and I sat in stunned silence. He stared at the doctor’s retreating back, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the imprint of his teeth through his cheek.
“Andres—” I began. But I never finished. Tears streamed down his face as he turned and left the hospital. I could hardly lift myself from the chair.
“Let him go,” Jules said.
Jules stayed beside me when I eventually tried calling home again. Maman was hysterical on the other line, thinking that we had gotten kidnapped for ransom or had been in a bad car accident. I tried to calm her down and explain that we were fine, but once I told her that Estelle was in the hospital, she became incoherent with another round of wails. Papi took the phone from her and barked that they would be at the hospital within the hour. I said nothing to him before hanging up. They got there in thirty minutes—food, a change of clothes, toothbrushes, and strong black coffee in tow.
“I don’t d-d-drink coffee,” Jules said as my mom forced a cup of the hot drink into his hands. His stuttering seemed to be from nerves and not a heavy tongue. My heart thumped in my chest when I realized he’d mostly stopped stuttering since leaving the forest.
“This is not for taste,” my mom said as she drank her own. “You must drink strong black coffee when you experience a grave shock.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask questions!” she snapped, and Jules hastily took a sip.
A nurse motioned that we could enter Estelle’s room. She looked tiny wrapped in the white sheets of the hospital bed. Her eyes were closed and they had pulled her
hair out of her face and into a ponytail.
“Estelle?” I said as I sat carefully on the edge of her bed. She opened her eyes and I saw her face flood with emotion. She looked relieved to see me but then started to cry.
I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay. We’re here.”
We sat around the room, Maman sobbing over her youngest, her favorite. Eventually, Papi cleared his throat to address the unspoken and asked Estelle directly what happened. She didn’t mention Roseline and I wouldn’t have let her. I interjected with a made-up story of a meeting with a mysterious old woman who could grant wishes and my parents exchanged a look. Jules nodded along, agreeing with everything that we said until then. Estelle plowed through.
“This was my fault. I wanted to stop, but it was too late and—”
Jules fidgeted uncomfortably.
“She was freaking out and she fell. We didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she kept screaming until we filled the jars,” I cut in firmly. “We took her here as fast as we could. Andres left.”
Tears welled in Estelle’s eyes again at the sound of his name. “I was pregnant. I had only suspected it for about a month. I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Celeste—” The words I’d tried to conceal tumbled out anyway.
“Ki sa!” My father balled his fists and, with no outlet in sight, placed them on his head.
“How could you, Estelle?” Maman said, twisting her ring. “What would people say?”
“You and Papi somehow survived the shame when you were teenagers,” I spat. “Grand-mère said that’s why you got married in the first place.”
“How dare you speak to me this way—she was a crazy woman—”
I stood up without waiting for her to finish and signaled for Jules to follow me out the room. As if unsure of what to do, he bowed before exiting.
“Thanks for staying with us,” I said when we were alone. “But I think you should probably give your parents a call. I’m sure they’re worried sick.”
Dear Haiti, Love Alaine Page 13