Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,17

this gorgeous god of a guy. I still think it’s crazy that they chose a Caliban though, hot or not.”

“Same.” I nodded slowly. Jose did as well.

Of course, none of us had been alive when it happened, but it was the talk of the town for years and years afterward. The curse and the Caliban Carnival was always mentioned at dinner parties even if it was just in passing, usually hushed, as if no one could bring themselves to speak the words aloud. And like everything else on this island, they called it a fable, a legend, a myth. It was the only fable I actually bought into. Some things are too horrible not to believe. Every year, the host of Carnival was the firstborn male of each household. Every night of Carnival, the man got to pick one woman to spend the night with. Single, married, widowed, it didn’t matter. Most of the men on the island were respectful and responsible with this task. They picked a single crush or a woman they were already dating, engaged, or married to.

The year Wilfred Ambrose Caliban was chosen, he picked a married woman. The wife of a farmer whose beauty was said to only be rivaled by that of the sun’s rays. Like most stories, there’s no telling what’s true and what’s not. It’s been passed down to so many ears and spoken by so many mouths that we can only deduce what we think may have happened, but legend has it that the woman, Sarah, was never seen again. The farmer tried, with his equipment, to take the black iron gates down himself. When he finally received word from Sarah, it was via divorce papers and an apology letter that is now framed in our town library. I read the letter many times, trying to search for clues of lies and sadness, but found none. She seemed sorry for her husband, but not sorry enough to come back. And so, with Sarah, the sun left the northern part of the island, where the Caliban residence sat. They say the farmer put a curse on it that no one, not even the most spiritual beings around here, like my grandmother and people like her, could displace because no one could erase grief like that.

“Whoa.” That was Dee as we started nearing the main street of town, where everyone was in some kind of costume and walking around.

Whoa was right. The costumes were dark, but the mood was festive. Martín, who was waiting for us, spotted us quickly. He was in all black, including a top hat with a feather sticking out of it.

“Do you know what Black Swan is?” I asked.

“Not really.” Martín grinned as he gave both Dee and me a kiss on the cheek and shook hands and introduced himself to Jose. “The three of you look like you belong on the cover of a gothic album.”

“Funny,” Jose said, in a tone that was anything but amused. “Are we going to do shots, or are we just going to stand around?”

“I got the shots taken care of.” Martín turned around and escorted us to a small four-seater table outside of Dolly’s.

“Why are you here by yourself?” Jose asked after our latest shot of Cuervo. We’d taken six already, but who was counting? Certainly not my liver. I reached for the water.

“Because my girlfriend dumped me three days before we were set to come to this and I decided to come anyway.” Martín smiled brightly. “Good thing too. I wouldn’t have met these two. Or you, Jose.”

“You definitely won the lottery by meeting me. I’m not so sure about these two.” Jose chuckled when I nudged him.

“So, where’s the host?” Dee asked. “Does he walk around? How does he pick someone?”

“Haven’t you been to one of these?” Martín asked. “I know Penelope hasn’t recently, but she was the only weird one in that.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, pouring myself more water.

“Hey, no offense.”

“I’m too drunk to be offended.” I waved him off. “Where does the host pick someone?”

“I’ve only been to one Carnival and I was fighting with my boyfriend the entire friggin’ time. I didn’t even have fun,” Dee said.

“Ugh. Lawrence.” Jose rolled his eyes.

“Exactly.”

I personally liked Lawrence, but I wasn’t about to state that tidbit at a table full of Lawrence haters.

“So, the host is given the full list of attendees,” Jose said. “And there’s a competition. Sometimes it’s modeling, other times it’s just . . . a throne he’s