“I have everything here.”
He placed one item at a time on the dining room table.
“Here’s the article of Diego’s clothing and the rose is within a smelling distance of her.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“What about the money?”
Simon hoped she wouldn’t remember.
“The money… I’m going to hold on paying because I don’t yet have a job.”
His aunt raised her eyebrow at him.
“I mean, I haven’t even scheduled the job interview yet.”
“Then I won’t be able to make it work.”
“Why auntie? Come on! We’re family. I mean, all I’m asking for-“
“Simon. No. I’m sorry. No way. It’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“It’s not for me. It’s an offering to her,” she pointed to an idol of a skeleton holding a scythe and clothed in a red gown.
At the bottom of the figure, it read Santisima Muerte in red ink.
“Take this stuff back. It’s useless. A curandera can’t do the job without the proper tools.”
As she slid the items back towards him, it was like she was sliding back the remains of his broken heart.
Simon left the items and walked back home.
On the way, he cried angry tears.
“All of that, for nothing!”
He stopped to think about the alternatives.
Simon ran back to his aunt’s house, resolving to do whatever was necessary to marry Margaret.
“What’s the worst that could happen if I ask again? There’s got to be a way!”
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
“What do you want this time, Simon?” Gisela asked from within, not opening the door.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
“I already told you I can’t do it without the $150!”
“What if I give Santa Muerte something that’s more valuable?” Simon shouted.
She opened the door.
“You don’t mean…”
“I do.”
Simon remembered the first time his aunt told him she worked in magic.
He was a freshman in high school at the time, and his mother made him angry one day.
He couldn’t remember what about, but he happened to run away to his aunt’s house for a few nights.
No one bothered to look in Gisela’s house because Simon’s family had strictly banned mentioning her name.
She was exiled because of her beliefs.
One morning, Simon awoke early and noticed the house smelled of smoke.
“What are you doing?”
“Simon? What are you doing up? Why don’t you go to sleep?”
“I smelled something weird burning.”
“Don’t worry, that’s just sulfur.”
“Why are you burning sulfur?”
“Listen. I do… certain practices, very early morning or late at night. Those are the best times to practice.”
“What sort of practices?”
“Enchantments, charms. Incantations, remedies. Potions. Stuff like that.”
“So you’re a witch?”
“No. Well, maybe, it depends what you think a witch is. Think about it like this- I’m a good witch.”
“A sorcerer?”
“No. Call me a curandera. I relate with spirits at night.”
“What sort of spirits?”
“If you really want to know, I practice an old tradition, passed down through the ages. It’s popular in Mexico. Similar to shamanism.”
“What’s shamanism?”
“Ah, very simple, we communicate with spirits and they do things for us.”
“That’s what Catholics do too.”
“No, Simon, they don’t do it like how I do. If the Catholics had their way with me, they’d burn me at the stake, like how they burned Jesus.”
“I thought Jesus was crucified?”
“That’s what they made everyone believe… regardless, Jesus isn’t my lord, anyway.”
Gisela picked up a red hooded figurine of a skeleton from the center of a black, star-shaped symbol she had drawn on the floor.
“This is my lord.”
“Would Santa Muerte be willing to cut me a deal for my lifeblood, like she did with you?”
His aunt weighed the consequences within herself.
Simon was asking to make a deal with his soul.
Hypothetically, if his soul was valuable enough, then he would be with Margaret forever.
And at that moment in time, his soul was worth her love.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Simon had never thought to wager his own soul, but that was what his aunt had done to get all her mystical power.
Why not me, too? He thought. It’s for a good cause.
“Auntie, you told me about how you suddenly got all your power whenever you did a deal with that spirit. Were you lying?”
“No, that was real. That was serious, what I told you. But-“
“Well, if you can do it, then I can, too.”
“What you are doing is brave, but terribly foolish. I understand you want Margaret’s love, but do you know what will happen if you go through with this?”
“I- I don’t know.”
“It would mean certain death at some premature point in your life.”
Chills went down Simon’s spine.
Part of him still didn’t believe in the supernatural realm.
He really didn’t even know if God was real or not.
“The one reason I haven’t yet died myself is because I continue to make yearly sacrifices. If not, Santa Muerte would get mad, and send a spirit of premature death, one of her henchmen, to end me. I’ve seen a lot of people go… mysteriously.”
Gisela looked off into the corner of the room.
“However, La Flaca will hold up her end of the bargain if you hold yours up. Think of it like a long-term investment.”
“What’s La Flaca?”
“That’s another name for her.”
Gisela held the idol up to Simon’s face.
He examined the idol, thinking how a plastic figurine could have so much power.
“Why can’t I just do what you’ve been doing? I mean, you’re old, but you look great!”
“Suit yourself. But, I’ll warn you. It becomes cumbersome after a while. Weigh the costs. What you want, versus what you’ll get out of it. It may not be worth-“
Suddenly, Simon leapt over the table in a fury he couldn’t describe.
It was like some other thing living inside of him suddenly manifested.
“I have thought of the costs! I want to live with her forever. There’s no reason she should be with that scumbag!”
“Alright then,” she said with a crooked smile that was one like Simon had never seen before, “then give me some of your blood.”
That evening, as Diego was about to go to sleep, he said his last prayers.
Getting on his knees, he coiled a rosary around his hands.
“Dear mother of God, protect me from all the effects and attacks of the devil. Keep his schemes far from me.”
He recited a Hail Mary and went to sleep.
Little did he know that this was going to be his last night on earth.
…Chapter 3 coming in 7 days...
Or, if you don’t want to wait – buy it on Amazon.
MARK SOTOMAYOR 