Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,9

odd,” Martín said.

“It is odd,” I said, shivering uncontrollably. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

As I walked away and headed home, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What had happened to me? Who had I seen? I couldn’t be sure, but I had too many things on my plate to worry about right now. Still, I couldn’t deny that something about that light, that hill, that chair, seemed to call me and I needed to find out why.

Chapter Three

Evidence of my father’s chain-smoking lingered throughout the house long after he was gone. I couldn’t take a breath without thinking of him. Smoking was a terrible thing, of course. For the lungs, for others’ lungs, but even though I later developed an allergy to it, I never minded when Papi did it. It was part of him, like I was. As I sat on the couch, it was the scent of the cigarette smoke stuck to the couch that made me break down in tears, because it finally hit me that I’d never see him again. I’d never get a chance to redeem myself in his eyes. That last bit was what hurt the most. I’d worked hard because I needed money to live, but mostly I just wanted to make my father proud, and for what? He’d never called.

I heard voices coming from my mother’s room; the nurse who was watching over her was watching a telenovela. I buried my face in my hands. At least I still had her to make amends with, though I wasn’t sure I would. I knew myself. I knew her. We were both stubborn as goats. My father was like that as well, but my mother was worse about things. Judgmental. One-sided. After sitting there for a little while, looking at the television in front of me but not really paying attention to what was actually playing, I pulled my computer onto my lap and uploaded the pictures of the Devil’s Chair I’d taken. I must have fallen asleep at some point, after reading some of the Reddit message boards about it, because when I opened my eyes again it was already morning.

“Don’t put your foot on my couch.” That was Wela. I obeyed, turning off the television and standing up to take my half-eaten bowl of Lucky Charms to the kitchen.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t wait and have a real breakfast with me today. I was going to make you mangú y queso frito.” She shook her head. “We haven’t had a meal together in ages.” She walked up to me and squeezed me into a hug. “I see that you’re dressed so I assume that means you need to leave.”

“I do, but I’ll be back by dinner and I’ll definitely sit with you for that.” I kissed her tight curls. “I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She pulled away and started getting things out for the breakfast she was going to make. “Carnival kicks off tonight.”

“I know.”

“You’re not partaking in the festivities?”

“Papi is dead and Mami is, well, like that.” I signaled toward her room. “How can I celebrate anything?”

“New life, mi amor. That’s what Carnival is, after all. The fact that your father died the week of this celebration is a good thing. His soul will be welcomed by angels and live in the light.”

“We’ll see.” I bit my lip. I didn’t much believe in angels, but it was just one thing on the long list of things my grandmother and I disagreed on and I didn’t want to bring it up now. I grabbed my camera bag and looped it around my neck, deciding not to. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I thought you were going to hang out with those scoundrel friends of yours.” She eyed the camera. “You’re going to work?”

“Yep.”

“Someone is selling their house here?”

“Apparently so.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know everyone on the island, Wela.”

“Try me.” She shot me a look. “What’s their last name?”

“I’m not privy to that kind of information.” I smiled wide and walked away quickly. “See you later!”

“Be careful on that Vespa. There have been more accidents these last two years than ever before,” she called out.

“That’s because the tourists don’t know how to drive here.”

“Be careful with those tourists!”

“I will.” I strapped on my helmet and sat on my Vespa, driving it out of the neighborhood and waving at some neighbors as I went.

I thought about my mother, who I should have gone to see this morning. What if she died before I got a chance