Our eyes locked in a battle both of us would lose no matter who fired first. Mrs. Garcia leaned in toward me.
“I think my daughter needs a priest, an exorcism. Her behavior is unnatural.”
Her voice became a frantic whisper.
“She is doing sexual things to herself and just yesterday she bit my hand when I tried to wipe her face. She has always been a clean girl, but her room is a mess. I need you to tell a priest exactly what you did. What spell did you use, bruja?” Her tone turned to acid. “You probably want to keep her here because you aren’t good enough to make it anywhere else. I’m surprised you aren’t pregnant by now.”
I hated this woman. The only thing you hear where I come from is don’t get pregnant. Don’t get pregnant because that is always the beginning for us, a prophecy of failure come true. All the pointed fingers could say, “See! Not just stereotypes. Another one is born!”
We were modern girls. We knew where Planned Parenthood was, at least the ones that remained open. It made me almost wish I had been born without a womb so that no man would want me and no God would expect me to be leashed. The rest of me could be mine, and mine alone.
Mrs. Garcia wanted to see me cry, to cast her own guilt spell on me. How much she loved Fernanda was borderline obsessive, a red cape before her eyes. But I understood. When you aren’t white or don’t come from a place of privilege, the world needs a compelling, tangible reason to say you belong. Otherwise, you’re just like the rest.
Speak, I told myself. I would use this unexpected visit to my advantage.
“Let us see her first.”
She glared at me in silence, still waiting to hear me beg. I kept my best Alamo face on, hard and strong.
“Fine. Tomorrow at ten in the morning. But only you. I don’t want a bunch of people in my house to whisper and spread gossip about my Fernanda. If you are late, forget about it.”
I knew this was a huge win even if the others were not welcome. They knew Mrs. Garcia and would understand. We could meet after.
Our conversation had eaten up the remainder of my shift and it was time to finally leave. I could have asked her for a ride home, but my pride would not allow it. The rest of the team was scheduled until closing and I didn’t want to wait. I would walk home that night because there wasn’t enough money for gas until payday.
The journey from Sonic to my home was along Military Highway, a long stretch of two-way traffic with no sidewalk, only grass and trees, the street lights few and far between. When cars slowed down, my heart sped up as I readied my body to run into the woods and hide. There is no sound along that stretch of road except the whooshing of cars or the music escaping open windows. As I walked along with a key wedged between my knuckles, a slight breeze blew against the trees and my overheated skin. I told myself only deer and raccoons dwelled in the darkness as I continued to take big steps through the ankle-length dry grass.
“Hey, need a ride?”
I turned to a Volkswagen that had pulled up beside me. A couple the same age as my parents—and just as nondescript—gave me a smile. There was a collection of pine tree-shaped deodorizers hanging from their rearview mirror in a long tail. The windows in the back seat were smudged and dirty with handprints, like my parent’s car but without car seats.
The man spoke this time, leaning over the woman. A Dallas Cowboys baseball cap shaded the top half of his face. “It’s dangerous to be walking home this late on a road like this. Cars go real fast here. Your family must worry. You live close?”
“I don’t need a ride. Thanks . . . seeing my boyfriend.”
“Well, you be safe now.” The woman rolled up her window, and they pulled away. When their taillights were mere red eyes in the distance, I sprinted as hard as I could through overgrown dry grass and weeds. Thank God it was a full moon; otherwise, I would not have found my way home as quickly as I did.
I cried after closing my bedroom door, feeling trapped in the dark. Eventually I composed myself, and after a few sniffs and a wipe of my eyes I called Ana.
“Hey. You still awake?”
Ana moaned on the other end of the phone. “I am now. What’s up? Any news about Fernanda?”
“Yeah, I am seeing her tomorrow. I was thinking we could all meet after. You around?”
Ana yawned. “Text me what time and I’ll meet you there with the others if they can make it.”
“It will have to wait. Mrs. Garcia said only one.”
“Pfft. I am not surprised. Well, let us know.”
There was a pause. “Hey, you all right?” she asked softly.
I waited to answer. It was too late to burden anyone. “You know me. I’m always all right.”
“See you tomorrow, then.”
I hung up not knowing if I was all right or not. I could hear the raised voices of my mother and stepfather. It didn’t matter what they fought over; this scenario was a constant when he was at home. His extended periods away made day-to-day life difficult for my mother in caring for a family, but she seemed more at ease with herself when he was gone. That relationship crumbled day by day. It was only a matter of time before it would fall apart.
I lay back down and put my pillow over my head to cover my ears because it was too late to
