Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,64

a laugh. “You must be jealous of me.” She reached into the pockets of her dress and brought out a box of cigarettes, offering them to me before taking one out and lighting it when I shook my head.

“I’m not jealous of you.”

“River used to smoke.” She tilted her head back and blew out the smoke in her mouth. “He looked so sexy whilst doing it. So sexy.”

I swallowed, hating that she was right and jealousy spread through me. He’d said they weren’t lovers, and I figured that much had to be true now, but that didn’t mean they’d never been together. That didn’t mean she didn’t want him still. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t have him after I was gone, and that was the thought that hurt me most. My days here were numbered and I knew that if I didn’t leave when I was supposed to, my mother wouldn’t survive without the leaves.

“I don’t like cigarette smoke and I’m allergic.”

“Shame.” She continued smoking. “Since this is a quid pro quo, sort of speak, I’ll let you in on a secret, you see me young. Men, the ones who are especially tired of their wives see me the same, maybe younger, probably sexier. Men like River? They see me for what I am. A one-hundred-year-old bitter lady who just wants her freedom.”

“One hundred?” I stopped walking. She did as well.

“One hundred and two.” She turned her head to me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” She laughed and fell into a fit of coughs before tossing the cigarette aside. She turned back around and kept walking. “I was here when this land and that one were still connected.”

“How?” I walked faster to catch up. “How?”

“I asked for too much. He has a damning sense of humor.”

“What did you ask for?”

“The man I loved to love me in return.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t seem like too much.”

“He was married to my sister. The only way I could have him was if she was no longer here.” Mayra met my gaze. “It’s a long story, one that I regret every single waking moment. There are millions of men in the world. Millions. I could have left this island. I could have met another.” She exhaled a deep breath, shaking her head.

“So what happened?”

“My sister set a curse on me, on this island, on the Calibans.”

“Are you a Caliban?”

Mayra laughed. She stopped walking and faced me. The candle shook forcefully in my hand as I took her in this time. She looked different, her skin darker, the sockets around her eyes even hollower, but more terrifying than anything else, she looked just like my grandmother. I swallowed, taking one step back, then another. It could be a coincidence. A lot of women on Pan and the surrounding islands looked like my grandmother. We were all Caribbean, after all. Something about Mayra’s expression, however, begged me to recognize her.

“You see me,” she said. “Finally.”

“I don’t understand.” My voice shook as the candle spilled out of my hand and toppled over the grass.

“Stupid girl.” Mayra threw something on the candle quickly, dust, sand—whatever it was ensured that the light was gone. “Are you trying to burn us all to death?”

“Are you a Guzman?”

“I am. I was. I denounced that name long ago, just like my sister denounced me.”

“Who’s your sister?” I could barely get the question out, my voice a whisper against the crashing waves.

“Maria Guzman.”

My grandmother? I brought my hands up to my mouth, cupping it as if to keep from screaming, but there was no scream lodged in my throat, there was nothing other than shock, and shock seldom held a sound. I stared at Mayra. Mayra Guzman, a woman I’d never even heard of, but was my grandmother’s sister. I searched deep in my memories for that name and came up blank. I searched for old pictures, anything that I might have seen and overlooked, but there was nothing.

“I held you when you were a baby. You won’t remember. I watched you as you walked home at night. You won’t remember.”

“The yellow eyes,” I whispered.

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Why did you watch me? Why did you visit after you’d been banished? How?”

“Carnival. It’s the only time of year we can roam as we please.” She smiled sadly. “Men, like River, are able to travel and roam the world as they please until it’s time for, as you call him, the Devil, to collect. Women aren’t as