“It’s so damn hot out there. I swear we are all going to melt into a puddle of skin and blood, like a raspa cone.”
Dr. Camacho looked up from her computer. “I have some drinks in the garage.”
“Beer?” Perla asked with a grin.
“You ladies are not twenty-one yet. Bottles of iced tea and sodas.”
“I’ll get them,” Fernanda offered.
“Just through the kitchen, that door leads to the garage.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’m not expecting anyone other than Lourdes. She knows to let herself in.” Fernanda heard Dr. Camacho get up and open the door.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m here to take Fernanda home. Her mother sent me.”
“I know nothing of this.”
“Well, I just came back from seeing Mrs. Garcia. It is urgent.”
Fernanda stood at the door between the garage and the kitchen, staring at an unshaven, sweaty Father Moreno. He looked like a man who had walked out of the cold storage of a morgue.
“Liar.”
He snapped his head towards Fernanda, startled at the sound of her voice. “I promise you. Your mother needs you now.”
“Liar. Go away.”
Dr. Camacho gave Father Moreno a smile. “As you can see, Fernanda can speak for herself, and she doesn’t want to go with you. You should leave. She is perfectly capable of getting herself home.”
Without warning Father Moreno shoved a small pistol into Dr. Camacho’s abdomen. The crack of the gun made Perla and Fernanda leap.
“Motherfucker!” Perla lunged towards the priest. He shot the gun twice in Perla’s direction, hitting her in the arm and leg.
“Run, Fernanda!” she managed to gasp as she held onto the back of the dining chair. Father Moreno raised the gun to Perla’s head.
Fernanda dropped the drinks to the floor. “I’ll come with you. Leave her.”
Father Moreno turned to Perla.
“Give me your phone, girl!”
Perla was shivering.
“Bag. There.” She cocked her head towards the sofa before her legs buckled. Father Moreno looked back at two handbags on the cushion and leaned down to grab both, gun still on Perla.
Fernanda and Father Moreno walked out of the house together and into his car. Fernanda didn’t look at Perla or Dr. Camacho because otherwise she might try to kill the priest, or she might break down.
I couldn’t wait to get to Dr. Camacho’s house. The plan was to order Chinese, do a few hours of translation and then watch a movie on pay-per-view. Since we first began our project, Fernanda was living as herself most of the time. Whatever we were doing seemed to be working. I also felt filled with confidence and more hope than I had felt in a long time. The goddess wanted to speak after lying dormant for so long, and so did I. Silence is a bad habit, easy to slip into. I had done it myself. But as of late that had changed. There would be no going back.
I pulled into Professor Camacho’s drive, next to Perla’s car. This was strange as I swore she’d mentioned a date that night. I walked in without knocking because the professor made this feel like a second home for us, for me. Even when Fernanda was not there, we would still share meals and discuss all the revelations from the goddess. We believed once the stories were put together in their entirety they would reveal something life changing, for everyone.
Perla was on the floor propped against a dining chair clutching her thigh and arm, her skin devoid of color. Dr. Camacho lay in a pool of her own blood, eyes wide open. My body, my heart, disintegrated in that moment. I didn’t need to touch the professor to know she was gone. I took out my phone and called an ambulance. Perla moaned. I ran to her.
“Perla! Who did this?”
She was weak, her white lips barely able to move. “Priest. Moreno. Go. Fucking go.” I looked from her to Dr. Camacho and then back.
“I can’t leave you!”
“Fucking cops will have questions; it will be too late. He will kill her.” I couldn’t ignore the flaring of Perla’s eyes, that female rage we are told to bury when it burns too bright or becomes distracting. Tears filled her bottom lids and then spilled over. “It’s going to be okay. Go.”
I knew exactly where I was going next. When I started my car, I could hear sirens and then the flashing lights of an ambulance. There was a wave of relief over the grief I had no time to feel.
The rumbling sky looked as if it was about to crack open to unleash some great terror. You could smell the impending moisture; perhaps the time for waters to break had come. Maybe the darkness of space would descend upon us. Lightning and thunder rolled within the clouds. Every car had their headlights on, blinding me more than I already was in my confusion. I had to think fast. My stepfather had a gun in a pocket in the backseat of his truck, but I didn’t know how to use it or even if there were bullets inside, and anyway if I wasted another second getting to Fernanda and Father Moreno it might be too late. With the goddess not making as many appearances lately, I wasn’t sure if she would protect Fernanda. Or what if the goddess did appear and killed the priest before I got to them? Fernanda would be blamed, her future forever marred.
The only plan I had my mind set on was killing this priest if it came down to us or him. I’d be hated forever. I would take the sin, accept hatred or death. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want Father Moreno or anyone like him to have the satisfaction of our tears or bodies. No, I wanted to strike like a predator in the wild.
The church sat on the corner of the street like a chipped headstone. It appeared rotten, choked
