Round one to Jesse Saldana, but I’m in it to win it.
Four
Since I have Saturday off, I hop a bus that takes me partway to Chuch and Eva’s house. They live outside of town, so it’s still a fair walk. I could call instead, but if you’ve ever tried talking to new parents on the phone, then you know why I’m making the trip. Along the way, I turn down a couple of guys who slow with suggestive looks. Yeah, they’re offering more than a ride…or rather, it’s not transportation they’re thinking about.
As with so many other facts, I’m fuzzy on the details, but I get the impression that Chuch used to be a badass before he settled down. He hasn’t told me as much, but I suspect their old house burned as a result of his shady past. On the plus side, the insurance paid, so they got a new house out of the deal, bigger and better than the old one, mostly because Chuch and his cousins did most of the actual labor, so the money stretched.
The new place is beautiful. It’s weird that I can remember what their old place looked like but not how long I’ve been in Laredo. Or how we met, exactly. But I’m used to that kind of thing—fucking magick, man. Anyway, the architectural style borrows from a couple of schools, Colonial and Mediterranean, which maybe doesn’t sound like it would work, but together, they create an amalgam of Texan charm, warm with stucco and mosaic tiles.
I walk up to the front door and ring the bell. Eva answers a few minutes later, looking harried. Baby Camille is propped on her hip. “Hey, Shannon. How are you? I’ve been meaning to call, but these days, it seems like I stumble from nap to nap.”
“It’s not a problem. Can I come in for a few minutes?”
“Absolutely. Just be warned, the house is a mess.”
Sometimes when people say that, they’re being disingenuous and you step inside to find tidy décor worthy of Martha Stewart. This is not the case with Casa Ortiz. It kind of looks like a baby store exploded in here. There are blankets and afghans everywhere, toys strewn on the floor. A fine layer of dust coats everything, and I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been since the floor was mopped.
And there are frogs everywhere. Not live ones, but little ceramic or china knickknacks. Chuch collects them, apparently. He says they’re good luck.
“You want something to drink?” Eva looks so tired.
“Just water for me. Sit down… I’ll get it. What do you want?”
“I want coffee, but I can’t have it. I’m breastfeeding. So water for me too.”
From my stay with them before, I’m familiar with how she organizes her cupboards, so I fill two glasses with ice and pour from the filtered pitcher Eva keeps in the fridge. Then we both sit down at the kitchen table. I feel guilty for bothering her, but I really need to know.
“So I talked to my mom,” I start.
Both her brows shoot up. “I thought she was dead.”
The weird thing is, I don’t remember telling her that…but clearly she knows. This is kind of like me knowing things about Jesse that he can’t recall sharing. Something super weird is going on here.
“She is,” I answer, my expression reminding her that for me, death’s not a barrier to conversation.
“Right. You were saying?” She jogs Camille on her knee, which makes the baby smile, all pink gums and chubby cheeks.
“I learned something interesting from her. It appears that this brain fog comes from a spell. Do you know anything about that?”
For a split second, she freezes. But I read the answer in her eyes. She does know. Maybe not everything, but there are definitely secrets hidden in Eva Ortiz’s dark eyes. Yet she shakes her head.
“That’s strange. But it explains a lot.”
“Would you tell me if I pissed off a witch?” I ask.
“As far as I know, you haven’t irked anyone. I mean, you haven’t been living in Laredo that long, relatively speaking.” She shrugs. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. Spells don’t last forever. I’m sure if you’re patient, your memories will return on their own.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “You’re not the one with a hole in your head. Figuratively speaking.”
“I know.” Her look becomes sympathetic. “It must be frustrating.”
Then why are you lying to me?
But before I can press the point, Chuch comes in the back door. “Shan! You missed us,