She remembered that it had rained that morning. When they told her to lie down she could feel that the dirt below her was still damp. Her eyes stung and it was hard to breath the hot smoky air.
When they laid her down she could hear everyone. The quick incomprehensible French from the tall stranger, the prayers from her cousin Rigo, and her father continuously repeating, “It must work. It must work.”
Her father wanted to fix her and so he brought her back to plantation where it had started. He kept it secret from his wife. He told Hilma he needed to take Marquita to see her ailing grandmother. He had been planning with Rigo for months. They decided they would be the ones to end the Moreno curse.
They had told her not to eat that day. The sweet metallic liquid they gave her was hard to swallow and instantly nauseating. When she vomited a stream of cloudy water soaked into her shirt and hair. The drink made her hallucinate and her mind could no longer grasp unto a single thought. It was then that all the secrets came out.
Every secret she had hidden was now exposed until finally she came to the one had hidden the deepest. Marquita looked her father and said, “Juan Acosta.”
*************************
Marquita opens her eyes and chokes on a dry gasp. A shooting pain erupts from behind her eyes as she tries to catch her breath. Her vision is blurred, but she can feel that she on a small hard bed. She tries to move, but her legs are stiff and her chest heavy.
Marquita holds her head and finally breaths deep. Her fingers find the stitches and she quickly traces the long painful rows across her head.
Slowly her eyes begin to refocus. She looks down at her arms and sees that her IVs lines were gone. As she touches the inside of her forearm she notices that her skin is clear and free from the bruises and scars the needles typically leave behind.
Every voice from her dream is now gone yet she can still smell smoke. She looks up and sees a thin hazy smoke caught in the sunlight filling the room. She listens close and hears only the hum of traffic. The hospital was always filled with voices, yet this place is uncomfortably silent to Marquita.
Marquita looks around the small hot room. Every surface was dirty. The carpets were stained and large watermarks cover the ceiling and blot the walls. She looks over and sees a table with a small stack of newspapers, a cell phone, cigarettes and an ashtray overflowing with discarded butts. By the bed a battered bag lies opened with its contents of clothes, papers and random items including a small wooden box are strewn on the ground around it.
Marquita searches the room for the origin of the smoke. Her eyes rise from the floor and follow the light of the room to a single window. Marquita muscles tense when she discovers she isn’t alone. From a chair by the window, Mechteld smokes and watches Marquita. She gets up from her chair and lays her still burning cigarette on top of the pile in the ashtray.
She casually says, “You’re awake. It’s Thursday, by the way.”
Marquita cannot breath as she stares at Mechteld. Her eyes race across Mechteld’s face and body. She takes in each horrible detail as she finally sees the person hidden behind the medical mask and scrubs.
Mechteld’s left arm is covered from the knuckles of her hand to her shoulder with layers upon layers of scars. Burn scars crisscross with scars from deep cuts and abrasions. Mechteld’s right arm is also scarred, but instead of burns, small scratches and wider marks randomly scatter her skin. Marquita can see on her upper arm a tattoo. The tattoo has writing that is unknown to her above bold letters that read “MCMXIV”. On her right hand Mechteld wears a ring with a band of green stone on her ring finger.
Above the neckline of her shirt, burn scars erupt and reach up to her left eye. On the right side of her face is a straight vertical scar that starts from under her nostril, over her lips to the bottom of her chin. By her right ear there’s a wavy horizontal scar that traces across her face, under her right eye, and over the bridge of her nose until it finally ends at her left eyebrow. The only beautiful features Mechteld possesses are her deep blue eyes and her golden wavy hair that she keeps in a loose braid.
Mechteld stares at Marquita, waiting for her to speak.
“Go on, say something so I know you’re not damaged.”
Marquita’s ears begin to buzz and she can feel her body beginning to sweat. She begins to cry as she asks, “Am I alive or dead?”
“You’re very much alive.” Mechteld says as she reaches for her pack of cigarettes on the nearby table.
Marquita starts to breathe quick shallow breaths. She can feel herself getting sick. Breathlessly she asks, “Where am I?”
“A hostel in Astoria.”
“I’m still in Queens? But….” Marquita’s voice trails off as she remembers her prayer from the hospital. Was this God’s answer? Had she been cured? But why would God bring her here? Why would God send her someone like this?
“In the hospital…I thought that God had sent you. I thought…I thought…”
“You’d be normal?” Mechteld asks raising an eyebrow as she lights another cigarette from the butt of her previous one. She takes a deep drag and adds, “Sorry, no.”
ns 15.158.61.8da2
