“Just ask ese palomo cara de caballo,” I say. “Sileno knows what’s up.”
“Me? No. I was too busy with the club,” Sileno says, “tending to customers—”
“Speak!” Charon yells. Sileno sheepishly stares at the floor. He is no longer the lengua larga horse face from earlier.
“Ato entered the Bronx a couple of days ago. Heard he’s been obsessed with Eury for years, from back when she lived in Puerto Rico,” Sileno says. “I didn’t understand why until I met her.”
A beat goes by. Then another. Charon chews on this revelation.
“Ato.” Charon says his name with as much hate as I have.
“I need to find Eury before it’s too late,” I say. Charon has to cross me over.
“Ato thinks he’s above it all because he’s beloved by Guabancex and Dīs,” Sileno says. “He’s always getting his way.”
“I don’t care about that,” Charon says. “What I want to know is why I should cross him?”
I slowly stand up. My head is still lowered in an act of reverence. Charon hasn’t put away his blade. This is for Eury, because I’m being tested, and my only currency is my promise to find her.
I hold my guitar and get ready to sing.
Before I can even hit the first note, Charon grabs my instrument. He hands it over to one of his jawless soldiers. Fine. I don’t need my guitar to confess my lamentations for Eury. I will sing my entreaty. I start.
“Cállate,” Charon says.
I keep singing. This is what I have.
“Why do you bring me this basura, Apolo?” Charon asks. “He can’t even sing.”
Charon shoves me to the ground. I don’t stop. I am insignificant here, but I will lift my voice until it reaches Eury.
The soldiers look back at Charon and then at me with their demonic eyes. They claw at my legs, my arms, and face. They draw blood. I keep doing what I do.
The master of this hell raises his machete again. Charon wants me to stop. I won’t. I’ve been sent here for a reason. He wants to get rid of my jaw so I can no longer sing, so that I can join his mute soldiers. He can try, but this song has its own divination.
“Pheus is the only thing I’ve made that’s pure.” Pops chokes up. “Don’t end his life simply because you refuse to acknowledge the good.”
Charon and Sileno laugh at my father.
“Weren’t you here when he performed? Didn’t you see how much he loved the limelight? The only light your son wants is fame. It’s why Eury ended up with Ato,” Sileno says. “Take pride in knowing your son is just like you: a selfish failure.”
I dart up. I swing right into Sileno’s face. No one talks about my Pops like that, demon, god, or what have you. No one. Sileno drops to the floor. He laughs with a maniacal grin, blood now dripping from his nose.
“Let me do the honors, Charon,” Sileno says. “Let me complete this young boy’s destiny to serve you.”
Charon flashes his stained teeth. Brown and yellowing.
“No. If you are going to perform,” Charon says, “then you need to really perform.”
Charon pounds the ground with his cane three times. The restaurant walls collapse inward. I cower to protect myself from being crushed by the rubble.
“Pops!” I yell before everything turns black.
I open my eyes to find I am on stage. My father sits at a center table with Charon and Sileno. Charon sucks on a hookah while Sileno drains his glass of red wine. All around the room, the tables are occupied with lechones, piglet devils with long, curved snouts and tall horns covered in tiny spikes. During Carnaval de Santiago in Santo Domingo, people dress as lechones in silk clothes adorned in sequins with their faces concealed under papier-mâché masks. But these lechones are not wearing masks. They are real. The lechones violently swing sisal ropes from their seats, slamming on the tables, grunting and slobbering.
Behind me, a fast bachata is being played. I turn to face the musicians backing me up. A demon piglet plucks rabidly at the strings of a guitar. Pieces of flesh fall from his fingers. The congueros bang with their eyes closed in ecstasy. Blood covers the skin of the congas.
Down on the dance floor, lechones huddle close to women. They twirl and twirl their partners to the rhythm of the demented bachata.
“No más, por favor,” a woman pleads, begging to stop. I look down at her bare feet. They are bleeding.
“Ayúdame,” another woman cries. Their demon partners cackle. The women raise their hands in supplication while being spun across the dance floor.
My heart breaks.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sing!” bellows Charon.
CHAPTER 28
Eury
Ato slowly gets up. I won’t succumb to his pleas.
“Eury. We are meant to be together,” he says. “In time, you will accept this. I’m only protecting you.”
“No!” His eyes are black coals. His face is a demonic mask. “Don’t come any closer. You are not real. You’re a nightmare, and I will wake up soon.”
“No, Eury, don’t do this,” Ato begs. “I implore you. Don’t shun me. You are mine.”
I am his? I am a thing, a possession, like this house filled with familiar objects. Ato confirms my fears.
“I belong to no one,” I say.
Ato’s face shifts again from remorse to anger. He clenches his jaw.
“I will give you time but not long. A bit of space to change this way of thinking,” he says. “Just remember, you are meant to be by my side for eternity.”
He walks away. I stand clutching the knife until the dense brush overtakes his body and he is no longer visible.
The llorosa doesn’t move. It’s so small.
I cradle the bird in my hands. Her companions have not returned. I can’t allow them to find her this way. I dig a hole into the soil big enough to contain the bird.
Wait.
I’ve buried a llorosa before. I try desperately to remember. When? When did this happen?
I close my eyes and search deep in my thoughts for this memory. There is an unmoving llorosa, and I am distraught. Who was with me at the time?
Think.
A hand on my shoulder comforted me as I wept. A person who cared for me. No, there was more than one person. And it wasn’t here. It was in El Yunque. Ato had killed a llorosa in El Yunque. But who consoled me after his hideous act? If only I could lift the persistent fog blanketing my mind …
I place the llorosa into the hole and cover the bird with soil, saying a prayer not only for the llorosa but for guidance to get me out from under this unending horror. I am lost, but perhaps if I repeat the petition, I will find the right path.
A prayer to bring back lost memories. There are people who love me. Maybe they are thinking of me right now.
The once-dormant wind stirs. In the far distance, storm clouds form. The sudden change in the weather feels foreboding. I don’t know why, but I can’t be here when the storm reaches. I’m not safe. I must leave.
Inside, I find a backpack in a closet. I take a blanket and a change of clothes. These items are mine, but in a way they do not seem real. I place them into the backpack. I am afraid everything I touch will disintegrate.
I head to the river.
Masses of dark clouds seem to increase in size with every second. I see no one. Not an animal. Not a bird. This strange place can’t be real.
I keep walking. It’s hard to calculate the time. My body can’t possibly survive without food or drink, and yet, here I am. The voices in my head continue to shrill, alerting me that this is all wrong. But I can’t dissolve into inactivity. An answer lies somewhere. I will walk until I find it.
What would happen if I swam along the river? Would my body eventually give up after such a long stretch? There is nothing for me to swim to. Not a boat or a dinghy. I wish the llorosas would come back. At least they are familiar. Their chirps were a reminder of another time and place.
There must
be someone else on this island. It is much too big to house only Ato and me. I will find a person to help get me away. Ato will do the same to me that he did to la llorosa. I can feel it.
The longer I walk, the more it feels as if I am barely making any headway. My legs ache. I need to stop. I sit down on the dirt, grab a handful, and let it sift through my fingers. I have to keep moving, but this tiredness weighs me down. If I rest for only a little bit, I should still be able to outrun the start of this storm. The dark clouds are still a ways from me. It’s so hard for me to stay awake. I’m so tired.
Maybe if I rest for a second.
My eyes grow heavy. I give in.
A noise startles me awake. I’m no longer by the river. I’m back inside the house on the bed I share with Ato. The space beside me feels warm as if he just woke up. I turn to grab the knife I had tucked into my belt loop, but it is no longer there. Instead I am wearing a dress. It’s hard to breathe.
I was by the river, walking away from the storm. This I remember. If I repeat these sentences, surely I will not give in to this delusion.
There is movement inside the house. Ato is here. He is the cause of this. I look around the room for a weapon, but the bedroom dresser has been stripped of everything. The walls are also bare.
I step out of the room to find Ato standing by the open front door, his back to me. If I run to the kitchen, will it be enough time to get the knife? No. It is too far away.
“I’ve put away the knives,” Ato says as if he’s reading my mind. “You won’t need them.”
I’m a prisoner here. There are no more tears left. I can walk for hours and still find myself right back where I started. Ato knew this. He let me play this game of hope. I won’t cry or fall apart although my heart pounds out of control. I must remain calm.
“Why keep me here when I don’t want to be with you?” I ask. “It’s not right. Can’t you see?”
He doesn’t turn around.
“Do you remember when we first met? Your father had left you. You were so angry. You thought perhaps if you destroyed the gift he gave you then it would hurt him,” he says. “You were so little. So you used a cane from this yard and started to hit the doll.”
I slump down to the living room floor. My memories are not fully formed; they are only glimpses. Feelings. The anger I can remember. The tears that ran down my cheeks as I hit the doll I recall too. Mami was inside the house submitting to her own sorrow.
“It rained, but you refused to take cover,” Ato continues. “Instead, you wished your father dead. I was with you.”
I don’t remember him sitting next to me or the rain. I only remember hitting the doll. I’ve blocked everything about Papi. How he looked in the mornings when he sat to drink his cafecito on the porch. How he liked to listen to his boleros loudly on Sundays while everyone went to church. Ato sprang from my anger. He came to me when I wanted to hate. What does it mean to attract violence into your life? Is that what I’m meant to live with forever?
“You will eat today.”
He turns to me. His face is erased. A blur. I can’t make him out. I rub my eyes and try to see Ato for what he is, but it’s not possible. It is as if I’m watching cuts of an unfocused movie.
“I don’t want you to be sick anymore, Eury. To be in such pain,” he says. “Unlike all the others, I will not abandon you. You see that now, don’t you? This is all for you. No more sadness. We’ll stay here forever as it was meant to be.”
Forever. I weep until I feel nothing.
CHAPTER 29
Pheus
A rapid bachata vibrates and bounces off the walls, causing bottles to fall from the bar. The lechones snarl and whip their ropes in a frenzy. Pops covers his face with his hands to shield it from the lassos. The demon guitarist jabs me toward the microphone with his instrument.
“I can’t,” I say.
“We can’t hear you,” Sileno yells. The lechones growl along with him. “Louder!”
The air is thick with smoke from Charon sucking on the hookah. He pounds his fist on the table while the dancers wail in pain. I won’t sing a bachata. I won’t torture these spirits forced to dance with monsters.
“No,” I say.
“Did he say no?” Sileno slaps my father on the shoulder. “Charon. I think he has doubts.”
Charon stands up and places the blade against my father’s neck.
My god. Please, don’t do this. I don’t want to play this game.
“Don’t hurt him,” I say. “I’ll sing.”
I inhale and try my hardest to stop from trembling. To find my voice once again. I’ll do this but not the way Charon or Sileno expects. I walk over to the guitarist and press my hand over the strings. He snarls and snaps at me with his protruding jaw.
“Slow the hell down,” I command. “Everyone slow down.”
Charon keeps the machete by Pops’s neck. I got to make this right.
I sing the first verse from “Pena por Ti,” by Luis Segura. Amargue. A song of bitterness, of love lost. I can’t sing of hate, so I will sing this heartrending tune.
The lechones whip with furious intentions, but eventually they calm down. Couples slow their maddening spins. The women still cry out but not as painfully as before. Their whimpering causes me to find my voice and join in their lament. The demons begin to sway to the music. They stop thrashing their ropes. Some even drop their heads onto the table. Sileno slams his fist to try to stir the demons, but he’s out of luck. My voice has lulled the beasts to sleep.
Charon lowers the machete from my father’s neck. When the song ends, not one word is uttered. The club is completely silent except for the dancers’ barefoot shuffling and the snoring coming from the demons.
Within seconds, Charon leaps from my father’s side to mine. He straddles me to the ground and raises his machete. I close my eyes. The machete lands just inches away from my face. The blade feels hot against my cheek. If I move, it will surely pierce my skin.
“What else you got?” Charon asks.
I clumsily dig in my pockets.
“I have this.” In my hand, I hold the token my father gave me, the small statue of the elephant.
Charon snatches the ceramic piece and chuckles at the elephant’s face. When he gets up, the lechones vanish, as does Sileno.
“Let’s go,” Charon says.
My guitar is on the floor, still intact. I strap it to my back.
Pops holds me longer than he should. I’m crying because I don’t want to do this alone, but I must. He nods and wipes my tears. “Be safe. Don’t be stupid.”
I catch up to Charon, turning only once to see Pops still standing there.
CHAPTER 30
Eury
Ato fusses about in the kitchen. “I’m going to make us a feast,” he says with a bit of pep as if everything has been decided.
“Please, Ato, let me go,” I plead through my tears.
“You will eat before the storm reaches the house,” he responds. He will soon force food down my throat, but I fear eating means I am bound to this place forever. I must find a way out of this jail.
Think.
The storm gathers momentum outside. Leaves from the palm trees begin to fall from the now-forceful wind. Rocks tap against the windows, louder as each minute passes. I walk back to the living room and stare at the rolling clouds. Darkness spreads.
A hurricane. There is a hurricane encroaching on the island. I start to hyperventilate. The room spins. Oh my god. A hurricane is coming to tear this house apart like it did once before. My home. The walls came apart. I was with Mami, cowering in the bathtub. I remember it all so clearly now. We have to take cover.
Wait. This is not my real home, and Ato doesn’t have control of this hurricane—does he? If Ato wants me to eat before the hurricane reaches us, that must mean the hurricane is on a timetable Ato is unable to steer.
Eury. Think.
The hurricane.
Maybe the answer can be found in the storm—t
he one thing Ato can’t control. Instead of walking away from the dangerous gale, should I be heading right toward it?
The rain has changed into a torrential downpour. Tree branches shoot across the sky. The storm is so close now.
I don’t know if I can do this. Go toward my greatest fear. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, almost drowning out the roar of the wind. I’m not strong enough. Fear of this hurricane will destroy me, as the storm itself destroyed my home.
But my fate hangs in the balance. I can either face the hurricane, or eat and stay with Ato forever.
Am I strong enough to do what I must?
Ato returns with a tray of food. Everything is laid out so elegantly, right down to the flowers in a clear vase placed at the center of the tray. He goes back to the kitchen and returns with a large glass of water. His face is still a blur.
Ato is a devil. I will run into the hurricane to get away from him. I must.
He conveniently leaves the utensils in the kitchen. I’m meant to eat with my hands like an animal. I pick up a perfect slice of mango, the brilliant orange-yellow color unmarked by bruises. This fruit is not for me. It will kill me.
“There was a song you used to sing,” I say as sweetly as possible. I try not to look at him. If I do, my despair will overtake me and I won’t be able to do what I have to do. “When I was scared of the thunderstorms. Do you remember?”
I don’t know if this is true, but I am searching for any way to get out of here. Ato used to be my protector. This memory sits at the edge of my thoughts. I had affection for him not too long ago. I must dwell on this delicate memory of our relationship and hope it will be enough to fool him.
His face is still a fog. It is as if someone took an eraser and wiped his features clean. He is unfocused. I have to concentrate on keeping my breathing steady, otherwise the terror will become too much.
I risk a glance out the window and see the tree is now inhabited once again by llorosas. They have returned. The sight of them gives me courage.
“Sing for me, Ato. Mark this occasion with your voice.”
I play against his vanity, and Ato can’t resist. After all, he only wants me to worship him. Let him believe I will. Ato stands up, and I can see the front door is wide open behind him. It is so dark that we should turn the lights on, but Ato doesn’t. He is too immersed in the idea of performing for his captive audience.
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