Fables&other lies

Chapter Two

“The Devil is laughing tonight, but he laughs alone,” Don Jose said during his eulogy. “We will not succumb to his greed or be tarnished by his wrongdoings. Maximo Guzman was a good man, a great man. Gia Guzman is a great woman and needs our help and prayers now more than ever. May we lift her up in the light so that she will come back to us.” He bowed out and walked back to his seat at the front of the church. Both women and men muttered their prayers in agreement and wiped their faces.

I stood in the back of the room, with my head bowed, thinking about how much I hated funerals. I hated the condolences that came with the side hugs, shoulder pats, and the eulogies that spoke of everyone being so perfect, when most people sitting in the room knew otherwise. We were all fallible. We were never all good, despite how much we tried to be, or all bad, despite what others said about us. I wished this entire thing wasn’t so hypocritical. Maximo Guzman was a good, great man. Sure, he’d turned his back on his own daughter when she was just a kid. No one had anything to say about that? No one cared about the fact that I’d had to couch surf and pay my own way through photography school all the while my parents were sitting in their golden mansion surrounded by yes-people and praying to false prophets? It angered me to think about, so I tried to push it away, but it was no use, the anger simmered. Instead of walking toward the open casket, I walked outside, shutting my coat tightly around myself as I pushed through the cold breeze.

“Hey.” My best friend Dee’s voice made me glance up. She flicked her cigarette away and blew out smoke. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Before or during your cigarette break?”

“You know I hate funerals.” She walked over and wrapped her arms around me.

“Where’s Law?” I asked.

“He’s around.” She pulled away. “He had to leave. He and his girlfriend got into a huge argument.”

“Huh. Did you get to meet her?”

“No, she was too spooked by the island to even come out for drinks last night.” Dee smiled, shaking her head. “Her loss.”

“Yeah. Her loss.” I smiled back. “Speaking of drinks . . . ”

“Yeah, let’s go to Dolly’s. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you and serve you until you get so drunk you won’t even remember this awful time.”

“I doubt anything can make me forget this.” I linked my arm around hers.

“How was the ride over? I’m not going to lie, I can’t believe you took that shitty bus.” She smiled as we walked, the gravel beneath us crunching underneath our boots.

“It was fine. I mean, it had four wheels and brought me over. It was safer than the alternative.”

“I’m sorry.” She groaned. “Have you been to visit your mom yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure that I’m ready to see her.”

The truth was, I wasn’t even ready to be back here at all. My parents had been in a freak accident when their seaplane went down. By all accounts it had been a clear day, which wasn’t uncommon in the summer. Those who saw the plane go down assumed it would be fine, as it was already landing and grazing the water, and then everything went wrong. The clouds turned black, the fog lifted out seemingly of the ocean, and lightning struck. An awful combination that sounded more like something from a Hollywood movie than real life, but it was, and there was enough video evidence being sent all around the world for anyone to question the story’s validity. Ever since the accident my mother had been flowing in and out of consciousness, at home, with nurses watching her twenty-four-seven, and my father suffered a heart attack as he was being pulled out of the plane. None of it made any sense, but here we were.

“Do you think it was the curse?” Dee asked, a whisper, as we reached our Vespas—hers bloodshed red, mine pale blue—and picked up our helmets, securing them on our heads.

“I don’t believe in the curse. You know that.”

“Still, Pe

“I don’t believe in curses.” I turned around to get on my Vespa. “I’ll meet you at Dolly’s.”

I really didn’t believe in curses, but there was no denying that something evil lurked on this island. Whether it came from the Caliban Manor or our own, or the village, I didn’t know, but it was there. Not one Guzman had lived a long, happy life, free of health issues or a tragic death. As far as I knew, the Calibans suffered the same fate. When I lived here, I’d made it a point to keep them out of sight, out of mind. The less I thought about them, the fewer chances I had of welcoming any of that into my life. When I reached Dolly’s Bar, I parked, switched off my motor, and took off my helmet, hanging it from the handle. I watched as Dee did the same beside me. Inside, we sat in our usual booth, one we hadn’t sat in for over six years.

“It feels so strange to be back here,” I said after we placed our drink orders with Dolly.

“Mind if I join you?” The familiar voice was Martín’s. He was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and khakis.

“You still stick out like a sore thumb,” I said. “No one here wears khaki.”

His smile fell. “Is that why I just paid thirty-five dollars for a rum and coke?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dee laughed. “And you may join us, if that’s okay with Pe

“Oh. No.” I shook my head, frowning slightly. “We just met today. Nothing is going on.”

“She was kind enough to let me talk her ear off,” he said, then looked at me. “Mind if I join?”

“Not at all.” I started to scoot over, but Dee beat me to it, and from the twinkle in her eye I could tell she was interested. I laughed lightly and glanced away just in time to see Dolly bringing us our drinks.

“Oh, this young man is with you?” She set a martini in front of me and a whiskey on the rocks in front of Dee. “You should have told me.”

“Just so you know, we’re paying regular price.” I winked, getting a laugh out of her.

“I wouldn’t dream of charging you any more than regular price.” She winked as she started to walk away. “You haven’t been here in a while, but you can order with the tablets on the table and they’ll bring your food right out.”

“Thanks, Doll.”

“Anytime, love.”

“Thirty-five dollars?” Dee whisper-shouted. “She must be making a killing this week.”

“You’re not kidding.” I looked around the bar. “I don’t think I see one familiar face. Has it been like this every year?”

“Not really,” Martín said, setting his drink down. “I’ve been here for the last three and this is the most crowded I’ve seen it.”

“Wow.” I sipped on my martini.

“I usually leave for Carnival,” Dee said, “I mean, I haven’t lived here for what, four years now? But even then, when I come back home I make sure not to come this week.”

“I can’t imagine being from here and not reveling in this,” Martín said.

“That’s because you’re not from here,” Dee and I said at the same time, then laughed.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” He shot the two of us a look. “Besides, I already told you, I enjoy haunts.”

“So does Pe

“No.” I shot her a look. “I don’t make it a point to tell strangers about my work.”