The Pulse between Dimensions and the Desert Read online

  Reina is not the only being looking for souls. There are fouler creatures and more nurturing ones too. Reina leaves the children be. She leaves them to their imaginations. The bear cub lures children with her cuteness. She lets the children pet her and then leads them to the shadow forest. Those souls become echoes. Background noise. The souls become those moments when you hear your name in silence and there’s no one there. El alacran carries souls on his back into caverns where the souls become stalactites and stalagmites. Cave pools soak up the remnants of the ones who couldn’t choose between being stuck in the sky or rooted to the earth. La llorona drowns the souls and wails as they are in the grasp of her arms. These souls become the grit in your throat that you gain before crying. Reina cannot save them all, but she saves the ones she can. The trace she leaves behind on this planet is in one patch of the Sahara desert. If you find the patch and place the sand under a microscope, you can see miniature skeletons in the fetal position as though they fall asleep inside tiny capsules.

  MARIGOLDS

  “The spirit of our Tía Lily sits in the swing set we bought from the garage sale the other week. She is like a Llorona wannabe. She wails at night, except it’s for you.”

  This is what my brother Jesus tells me. Why is he saying this as I am about to fall asleep?

  “Mira, estupido, quiero dormir en paz.”

  He brings me a candle of La Virgen and tells me to light it for Tía.

  “Tell her how you’re doing in school. I think she will appreciate it.”

  I think he misses Tía Lily. She taught him how to read in Spanish and English. She also taught him the phrase “Shut the front door”. He yells it to shock people. I haven’t found the thrill in yelling obscenities or mimicking them. I called a girl a pendeja once and got detention for a week. I had to make a list of why she wasn’t a pendeja even though that was a lie. She took my lunch money on several occasions. Jesus told me to defend myself. On the way home he asked me to punch him in the face. Little fists bundled together. I tried. I cried instead.

  “I am weak, Jesus. I can’t say no to her because I have a tender head. If she pulls my hair, I will fall to the ground and the spirit of Selena will be my only saving grace, me entiendes?”

  Jesus hugged me and told me stories about Tía Lily. Tía Lily was sick and she managed to laugh and be mean to people every day, even when pendejos told her she should be sad about dying soon, but grateful to still be alive. Tía Lily went to the house of an ex and threw a big gulp of Fanta at his face and claimed it was holy water for his crooked soul. She ate tres leches every single day and told me to never trust a man if my gut told me not to.

  I miss her too. Snot trails down my lips and onto my wrist. I grab the Vicks just in case anyone sees me cry. I can explain that I am acting and show them the Vicks on my face como en esa película where the girl lied in court. I light my candle and put it on my window sill. Jesus is in his sleeping bag next to me.

  “Jesus? Do you want to play outside?”

  “Esmai, it’s late. Plus, Tía Lily is out there. I’m telling the truth.”

  “Then, let’s talk to her. I can’t fall asleep until I know you’re not lying to me.”

  “Fine. Entonces, bring your candle and grab your favorite toy.”

  “Why?”

  “We are going to bury it and have a memorial for Tía Lily.”

  “¿Y tú? Are you bringing something too?”

  He digs into his sleeping bag and brings out a red Power Ranger action figure. I grab my yellow Power Ranger action figure and put on my yellow ranger mask. They sold out of all the pink ones and mamá could only afford one costume at a time. Jesus got to be the red ranger like he wanted. He told me the yellow ranger had superb fighting skills in comparison to the pink one. It’s April now, but I can feel my strength increase after I put on the mask so I wear it often. Jesus finds a plastic purple shovel from our trip to Cali last summer. I follow behind him in my mask with the candle in one hand and the yellow ranger in the other.

  “We need flowers for Tía Lily.”

  Our fence has honeysuckle hanging off of it. I stick my mask on top of my head. I pluck the sticky petals and inhale them after I have a pile in my palms. Jesus is digging a mini-grave for his power ranger. He hands me the shovel. I kiss the yellow ranger on the forehead and tell her to say hi to my Tía. I dig until I am sure the yellow ranger will fit into the grave. I place her in and slowly sprinkle dirt on her. I take my leg and shove the remaining dirt over her. I spread the honeysuckle petals over the two graves and place the candle in between them. Jesus holds my hand and we bow our heads.

  I accidentally fall asleep with my yellow ranger mask on and I wake up to a bunch of indents in my face. Mamá is watching celebrity gossip and Jesus runs toward me with his mouth wide open.

  “Jesus, your breath stinks.”

  “Shut up, Esmai. Come outside with me.”

  He grabs my wrist and I stomp out in pajamas and messy hair.

  “Tía Lily?”

  Marigolds are scattered in the backyard. I step into the yard and the pile is up to my knees. Did she leave these behind as a reminder to honor her in November? Mamá could not say no with a sign like this. Anytime we visited the cemetery, we prayed quickly and left with haste. Mamá told us she didn’t want a bad spirit following us home so we always listened.

  Jesus is rolling in the marigolds. I grab a handful and stick them in my sleeping bag. I run back outside.

  “Jesus, is this Tía Lily sending us a sign?”

  “I think so.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “No se, Esmai. I’m only a kid.”

  I don’t know what it means either. I sit with my legs crossed and look at the sun settled alone in the sky. The purple spots emerge and I look over at Jesus. I exist in a space with good souls. I exist in this space and it inevitably ends.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

  Rios de la Luz was born in Los Angeles, raised in El Paso, Texas and Oklahoma. She is an editor at redfez.net and runs Ladyblog, an extension of Ladybox Books. Her story, “Ear to the Ground,” was featured on Vol. 1 Brooklyn. She is currently living in Portland, OR with her beautiful beast dog and her planetary partner. This is her first collection.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to mi amor (JDO), Constance, Mari, Ally, Liana, Michelle, Olivia, Valeria, Therkelson, Carly, Laura, Jesse, Erin, Mallory, Pearl, Sandra, Jack, Natasha, Anna, Kale, Monica, Jenna, Amina, Alicia, Rai, Cassandra, Laili, Naifeh, Kirsten Alene, Tiffany Scandal, Gabino Iglesias, Michael Kazepis, Marybeth McCauley, Grant Wamack, Monica Drake, Cameron Pierce, Chris Lambert, Brian Allen Carr, Matthew Revert, Chris Conklin, Troy James Weaver, Juliet Escoria, Selena (La Reina), Mister Spock and the most wonderful beast on the planet, Sleazimo.

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