Everyone kept asking Marquita if she was scared. “What an odd question,” Marquita thinks. Of course she was scared. Soon doctors will be operating on her brain while she was still awake.  The doctors told her the surgery had many risks. She could lose her ability to speak or walk, she could have major brain damage, or she could even die. Marquita recognizes that everything about the surgery should scare her, but the things that scare her most aren’t the operation, the possible brain damage, or death. Those possibilities barely bothered her.

Marquita wasn’t scared when the doctor told her about the tumor in her brain. She was relieved. For Marquita, the tumor was the answer to all the questions she had about herself since she was a child. The tumor was the reason she was different from all the other Dominican girls in Corona, Queens. Perhaps if the tumor were gone she would finally be normal.

In the weeks leading up to her surgery Marquita constantly volleyed between excitement and shame. After all, normal sixteen-year-old girls would be scared. They might even be preparing for the worst, but Marquita felt like her life was about to begin. It was a new start for her. She would finally have what she has prayed so earnestly for since she was a child. 

2: Chapter Two

From her hospital window, Marquita watches the dozens of people walking on the sidewalk stories below her. She liked studying them from a distance. For brief moments her attention would settle on one as they passed and in that time those people became special to Marquita. From the window, Marquita could only assume what each person was like. 

Marquita looks young for sixteen. Despite her mother being taller than all the other women on their street, Marquita barely stands taller than a grade school student. Regardless of her short stature, Marquita’s beauty is unique. Her eyes are an amber hazel that complemented her toffee colored skin. She inherited her eyes from her father’s side of the family. Her usually poufy natural hair is now shaved in preparation for surgery.

For years Marquita has been constantly trying to resolve how she feels and how she is supposed to feel. Everyone asked her if she was scared and wanted to answer, “Yes, but not of dying, cancer, or the surgery.” She wants to tell people that what scares her most is, “What if the surgery doesn’t make me normal?”

            From her hospital window, Marquita wonders, “What if I can’t be normal? Can I pretend to be normal? How long is that possible?” She’d been trying to be “normal” for years and most people believe her facade. Even her mother is fooled. As long as Marquita could remember, her mother explained away her peculiarities as being a “sensitive child” or it being a result of the seizures she had since she was seven. But Marquita knew she was different before her seizures. 

Deeper questions probe Marquita’s mind as she sits at the window waiting, “What if her father is right?” She has never been able to fool him. He knows she is different because his father was also different. Many people in the Moreno family are different. Both Marquita and father’s minds now linger on the same question: “Will the surgery do nothing because the Moreno family is cursed?”

Marquita stops looking at the people outside and gets up from her chair. If she is cursed, then she should go pray, as she always does. She needed to ask God to heal her, whether it is from a tumor or a curse. As she leaves her hospital room to pray for what might be her last time, the figures on the street below go about their morning. They know nothing of the girl filled with shame, fear, and anticipation. None, except for one. One person eluded Marquita’s attention. 

3: Chapter Three

Mechteld’s morning had started in Baltimore. She’d taken the train between Baltimore and New York numerous times in the past few weeks. Mechteld had been preparing for months now. Each week she makes the journey to New York to collect the information she needs. It was a trip that she sometimes anticipates. New York offers interesting distractions and her stops at New York’s Penn station are usually beneficial. There is always a tourist or two who are careless with their passports. 

For the past few weeks, her nights in Baltimore were spent studying the various faces, procedures, and routes she would need to know; memorizing each one in deep detail. Now, this street in Flushing, Queens is as familiar as her street in Baltimore; the halls and rooms of the hospital as recognizable as the one’s in her own home.

Despite the warm June weather Mechteld wears a thin hooded sweatshirt that covers her arms. In public, she always keeps the hood pulled up over a ball cap along with sunglasses and shemagh around her neck. Mechteld is small and very thin. A battered backpack weighs her small body down. When dressed in her hoodie and ball cap many people assume she is a preteen boy.

Mechteld has grown used to the discomfort of always being overdressed in hot weather. It has become a necessity to always keep her body covered and face hidden. One reason is to avoid stares, but more importantly Mechteld needs to protect herself.  Mechteld knows people always remember her face. How could they not? She is a monster.

            Mechteld snakes her way through the morning commuters of Flushing. She keeps her head down as she passes signs in English, Chinese and Arabic until she comes to an intersection. Ahead of her is her destination, New York Hospital Queens. 

4: Chapter Four

In the hospital chapel, Marquita kneels in front of the altar with her hands tightly clasped in front of her. Intertwined in her fingers are the rosary beads her grandmother gave her as a child. Marquita bows her head and tightly closes her eyes to recite the prayer her priest taught her the day before.

“Loving Father, I entrust myself to your care this day; guide with wisdom and skill the minds and hands of the doctors who minister in your Name, and grant that every cause of illness be removed, I may be restored to soundness of health and learn to live in more perfect harmony with you and with those around me. Through Jesus Christ. Amen.” 

 

Marquita’s hands tighten and shake as she proceeds in her prayer. She feels shame start to rise again from her belly. She isn’t sure if it is right to pray for this. Perhaps it is God’s will that she is different. Perhaps he had cursed her family. Despite her heavy feeling of shame, Marquita’s fear pushes her forward.

“And please, if possible let the surgery make me normal. I don’t like knowing the things I know. I don’t like knowing such horrible things…. Please Lord, if it is Your Will, release me from this torture. I can’t bear it any longer. Into your hands, I commend my body and my soul. Amen.”

Tears start to fall from Marquita’s tightly closed eyes. Behind Marquita, Mechteld silently watches from behind a window.  

5: Chapter Five

Mechteld knows she cannot stare long. The doctors and nurses will be preparing soon, which means she needs to prepare now.  Mechteld takes an elevator two stories up and finds her first stop, “Men’s locker room”. She stands in the hall pretending to read a magazine as she waits for her target. Within minutes he appears and waves his ID card in front of a panel to unlock the locker room door. He doesn’t realize he’s being watched and doesn’t observe Mechteld moving behind him. She catches the heavy door before it can close and automatically lock.

            Inside Nurse Lopez is alone as he unpacks his bag and readies himself to change into scrubs. He is a Latino man in his thirties, with a small stature and upbeat attitude. As he dresses into his scrubs he doesn’t notice Mechteld’s quite and quick steps into the room. He doesn’t even sense her as she leans her back against the lockers behind his opened door. When he closes his door he jumps back when he sees the small figure with a ball cap and sunglasses. At first he cannot even distinguish the person is male or female under the hoodie and shemagh.

Mechteld says nothing as he examines her profile. Finally he asks, “Who are you?” but Mechteld gives no response. Mechteld merely turns to face him directly. Nurse Lopez asks again, “Who are you? Why are you in here?” Mechteld takes a step towards Nurse Lopez and he responds by taking a small step backwards. He says, “If you need help you can to go to the nearest nurse’s station. They can direct you to where you need to go.”Mechteld takes off her sunglasses and ball cap and loosens her shamagh. She steps in front of Nurse Lopez who gasps as he takes in her face. He knows he should look away, but instead he concentrates on the ghastliness in front of him. He barely registers Mechteld’s question.

“You’re on the schedule to assist with the in the awake craniotomy, correct?”

Nurse Lopez looks away from Mechteld’s face and hesitates with his answer. 

“What? …..Yes. I work with Dr. Batra.”

He knows he shouldn’t have told her this, but his moment of transfixion delayes his judgment. Nurse Lopez looks deeply into Mechteld’s calming blue eyes. She stares at him for a moment before gently saying, “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

 

6: Chapter Six

A.N. The dialog that is italics is being spoken in Spanish. 

 

When Marquita comes back from the chapel she finds her parents waiting quietly in her room. A stranger might mistake their silence for being somber, but Marquita recognizes it as the silence that has masked the simmering tension her family has struggled with for years. For the past week Marquita’s mother, Hilma, has been in a constant state is distress and always moments away from crying. Usually, Hilma is a source of energy and happiness for both Marquita and their Dominican community, but recently her young face has become lined with worry and no one has seen her smile in weeks. As usual her father looks uncomfortable. For the last six years Marquita and her father have never been in the same room for more than twenty minutes. He used to be a happier man, but in recent years he has grown quiet and increasingly cold. It is only out of love for his wife and the desire to avoid gossip in Corona that he is there now.

            Marquita’s mother pulls her daughter in for a deep hug. As Marquita’s surgery grew closer and closer Marquita notices the hugs have become deeper and more intense. 

“Did you go and pray, baby?” Her mother asks tenderly.

Marquita feels it was always important to smile and reassure her mother. She knows that her father no longer fills the role of his wife’s emotional rock. As always Marquita looks at her mother with a soft smile and bright eyes as she says, “Yeah Mama, just like the priest taught me.”

Marquita’s mother hugs her again, this one slightly harder than the first. “You are so brave Marquita. I know God will protect you today.”

Marquita can feel the shame building up again in her stomach. She didn’t want God to protect her; she wants him to free her. Hilma looks over at her husband, Miguel. The relationship between her and Miguel has cooled. He has grown distant from the family, especially from Marquita. To her, he seems afraid of his daughter. 

“Miguel, do you have anything to say to Marquita? There’s not much time now.” Her voice is now sharp and slightly disdainful.

Miguel doesn’t look at Marquita when he flatly says, “Good luck.”

Hilma loosens her arms around her daughter, but still holds Marquita to her body. Her eyes narrow as she stares at her husband. This morning she couldn’t believe she had to beg him to be here today and now she can’t believe he is acting so morosely during this important moment. Her voice grows sharper with her brimming disgust. “Is that it? Nothing else?”

Marquita tries to calm her mother and softly says, “It’s okay Mama. He’s just scared.”

Her father pushes up from his chair and goes to window. His voice is no longer monotone, but defensive and angry. He braces his hands against the windowpane and through clenched teeth says, “Don’t tell me how I feel Marquita!”

Hilma now completely breaks away from her daughter and steps towards her husband. The sharpness her voice had before now quivers as she tries to hold back her irritation. “Miguel, please don’t do this today.”

Miguel’s anger settles and he becomes sullen again. He turns away from his wife and walks to the door. His voice is once more flat as he says, “I need to get some fresh air.”

            Hilma’s knees teeter between buckling and sprinting. She wants to hit Miquel, yet at the same time, fall to the ground and cry. Unable to do either, she stands stiffly with her hands balled into fists. She loudly sobs, “Where are you going? They’re coming any minute now to get her ready for surgery.”

Miguel only shortly pauses as he reaches the door, “I’ll be back.”

Finally Hilma’s knees give out and she waivers, but Marquita quickly steadies her. Her voice loses its antagonizing tone. Instead, Hilma lets out a dejected plea, “Miguel she isn’t getting her tonsils taken out. This is serious. Be here. Be here for this. We need you.”

Miquel doesn’t look back as he more forcefully says, “I said, ‘I’ll be back’.”

She begs once more, “Don’t leave this room without saying something to Marquita.”

Miguel faces Marquita, his body no longer in the room. He looks at his daughter in the eye for a moment but then turns and waves his hand, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

7: Chapter Seven

With Nurse Lopez taken care of, Mechteld changes into scrubs and a medical mask and then goes to the surgical prep room. She quickly pulls on a surgical gown, gloves, and nurse’s cap. She made sure as little skin as possible was showing.

 Mechteld busies herself with the supplies needed for surgery as Dr. Batra comes in the room. She sees Mechteld and is confused.

“Who are you? Where is Nurse Lopez?”

Mechteld continues to prepare; trying to look as professional as possible. “Nurse Lopez went home sick. I’m Nurse Lazarus.”

Dr. Batra watches Mechteld for a moment. Her eyes follow her as she moves knowing to cabinets and drawers. “I’ve never worked with you before. Are you one of Dr. Shelby’s people?”

Mechteld looks at Dr. Batra examining her expression. “Yes. I was called last minute. It seems everyone is very busy today.”

Dr. Batra raises an eyebrow. “Have you been informed on the procedure we’re doing today?”

Mechteld confidently says, “Yes, I’ve prepared everything and started the checklist. Would you like me to start prepping the patient now?”

Dr. Batra smiles. “You’re on top of things.”

She looks over the tray Mechteld has prepared and nods her head. She is impressed by Mechteld’s professionalism. “Looks like you have everything in order. Let’s go meet the patient.”

8: Chapter Eight

A.N.- The dialog in italics is being spoken in Spanish. 

 

Together Mechteld and Dr. Batra enter Marquita’s room.  Marquita and her mother sit alone on the bed. Hilma’s arms are once again wrapped tightly around Marquita; holding her intensely close.

            “Good Morning Miss Moreno” Dr. Batra says brightly. “Today’s the big day.”

Usually Marquita would greet the doctor back, using the same enthusiasm, but instead she’s distracted. Marquita looks past the doctor, finding her gaze drawn to Mechteld. She looks at the woman whose body is completely covered by light blue surgical attire. The only part of her visible is the slit made for her eyes. She knows that she is different too. Perhaps even different in the same way Marquita is.

“Miss Moreno, I’m Dr. Batra. I’ll be administrating the anesthesia for your procedure. I’ll also be responsible for waking you after the surgeons complete the first phase of the procedure.” Dr. Batra gestures to Mechteld,

“This is Nurse Lazarus. She will be assisting me.”

Marquita looks into Mechteld deep blue eyes and Mechteld looks into Marquita’s bright hazel one’s. They stare, sharing an unspoken connection.

“How are you feeling Marquita? Are you scared?” Mechteld asks plainly.

Marquita never break contact with Mechteld’s eyes, as she assuredly says, “No, I feel ready.”

Dr. Batra breaks the focus between Marquita and Mechteld as she interjects, “That’s the spirit! There’s nothing to worry about. You have the best doctors in New York doing this surgery.”

            Dr. Batra then turns to Hilma, “I’m sorry Mrs. Moreno. You’ll have to say your last goodbyes now.”

            Hilma looks at the doctor and then to her daughter, unsure what to do.

Marquita gives her a reassuring smile and holds her mother’s hand. “It’s time to go Mama.”

Hilma hesitates and glances out the door and into the hall. “But your father? He’s not back.”

Marquita gives her mother another smile while squeezing her hand. “It’s okay Mama. It’ll be over soon.“

Hilma goes to her daughter’s side and embraces her daughter deeply. She kisses Marquita’s head and whispers in her ear. “I love you baby. Be strong and believe that God is watching over you.” She holds her daughter for a few more seconds while Dr. Batra and Mechteld look on.

Finally Marquita pulls back and says, “I love you Mama. Everything is going to be okay.” Hilma kisses her daughter again. Dr. Batra motions Hilma out of the room and walks her out into the hallway.

            Mechteld takes her prepared tray of various vials and syringes and goes to Marquita’s IV drip. She tries to not look directly at Marquita, but she can feel Marquita’s eyes fixed on. She injects a syringe with a clear fluid into the IV.

“Will it fix me?” Marquita asks, her voice tainted with desperation.

Mechteld takes a syringe with a dark red liquid and attaches it to the IV and says, “Try to rest. Count backwards to one starting from one hundred. We’ll wake you after the incisions are made. “

            She pushes down the plunger of the syringe and looks down at Marquita. She locks eyes with her again and peacefully says, “Soon, you’ll be restored to soundness of health and learn to live in more perfect harmony with yourself and with those around you.”

Marquita quickly starts to drift from consciousness while the words of the priest’s prayer fill her mind. She has prayed to God; has God finally answered? Did God send Nurse Lazarus to finally free her?

9: Chapter Nine

 

In the operating room Marquita lays on the operation table, surrounded by doctors. Her head is tightly secured in an immobilizer and a blue sheet is taped around the crown of her head like a halo. Behind the sheet, three doctors work in unison on Marquita’s now exposed skull. Mechteld and Dr. Batra watch from a monitor recording Marquita’s vital signs as the skin from the crown of Marquita’s head is pulled back.  The sound of a drill and suction fill the room as one doctor precisely cuts into bone while another cleans away blood with a suction hose. Finally, the surgeon delicately lifts a piece of skull and places it on a tray. He turns to Dr. Batra and says, “The skull is open. You can wake her up now.”

Dr. Batra steps forward with Mechteld following holding the tray of vials and syringes. Dr. Batra turns to Mechteld and says, “Nurse Lazarus, I’ll need the-“ But before she can finish Mechteld provides the correct syringe. She injects the liquid in the IV line and then steps away. A speech pathologist then takes a seat low to the ground by Marquita’s face. She wraps her fingers around Marquita’s hand as her eyes begin to flutter open.

“The doctors are ready to start Marquita. Are you ready?” The pathologist asks softly.

Marquita, still groggy from the anesthesia, gives out a raspy, “Yes.”

The pathologist gives a nod to the surgeon, who turns to his colleagues. Together they begin to carefully cut into the soft tissue of Marquita’s brain while constantly referencing an overhead monitor. Dr. Batra and Mechteld go back to their places near the monitor displaying Marquita’s vital signs, where Dr. Batra studies each small change. The pathologist begins asking Marquita questions; examining each answer for evidence of decreased speech ability. Mechteld watches Marquita’s immobile face and waits.

As the pathologist asks a question to Marquita, Marquita’s face freezes with her mouth open and eyes wide. She looks as if she’s about to scream, but only choking sounds come out of her throat. In a worried voice the pathologist asks, “Marquita? Marquita? Marquita, squeeze my hand! Marquita?” The pathologist looks up to the surgeon and in a hurried voice says, “Something’s wrong.”

            Marquita’s body seizes and her eyes roll back into her head. A doctor at the surgeon’s table looks at the overhead monitor and in a businesslike tone says, “She’s seizing.”

Dr. Batra turns to Mechteld and says, “She needs benzodiazepine-“ Again, before Dr. Batra can finish her sentence Mechteld hands her an already prepared syringe. Dr. Batra quickly injects Marquita with the benzodiazepine as all the doctors now watch the monitor.  Alarms suddenly go off on all the machines at once.

In an anxious voice one doctor says, “She’s in cardiac arrest.” He reaches for the immobilizer that’s keeping Marquita’s head in place. “Let’s get her out of this and give her the defibrillator.”

Quickly they work together and lay Marquita flat on her back. Her head rolls to the side and faces Mechteld. The doctors stick the defibrillator pads on Marquita’s chest and stand back. The doctor hits the defibrillator button and an electric tone pierces the air. Marquita’s body jumps briefly up, but then lies again on the table. The doctors look to each other and in unspoken agreement hit the button again. The room is then filled with a long continuous tone.  All lines on the monitors go flat.

In a more frantic voice the doctor says, “Again!”

Once again the electric pitch fills the room and Marquita’s body lurches forward and then quickly rests on the table. With her head still to the side Marquita looks across the room and locks eyes with Mechteld. Marquita’s face stays frozen, but her eyes communicate a desperate plea. Mechteld does nothing. She stands stoic and unmoving. Their eyes stay bonded until finally, Marquita hazel eyes dilate and she sees Mechteld no more.

The surgeon takes a step back from the table and looks at the clock, “Time of death: 1:34 pm.”

10: Chapter Ten

A.N.- The dialog in italics is being spoken in Spanish. 

Hilma and Miguel sit in the hospital waiting room in silence. They stare off in different directions as a TV blares a show that neither one of them are paying attention to. They don’t notice the surgeon, who is followed by a short Latina woman, enter the room. They sit up in surprise as he begins to speak.

“Mr and Mrs Moreno?” He asks.

They both stand as Miguel looks at the doctor and answers in accented English, “Yes?”

The doctor takes a quick deep breath and looks dolefully at Hilma and Miguel. He starts his sentence cautiously. “I don’t want there to be any confusion about what I’m going to tell you. To prevent that, I’ve brought a translator.”

He gestures to the translator and Hilma nods with a nervous look of concern, but Miguel’s face is emotionless.

The doctor looks at them both, but after meeting Miguel’s stony expression he looks at Hilma. “We’ve come to tell you that there have been some complications.”

The translator quickly works and at the end of the sentence Hilma catches her breath. She quickly looks back and forth at the translator and doctor with wide eyes. Frantically she asks, “Complications? Can she speak? Is she able to move?”

Miguel’s stolid face never changes. The doctor continues, “Marquita went into a grand mal seizure during the operation. We think the seizure caused a major spike in blood pressure, which then caused cardiac arrest. We’re going to start tests soon to determine an exact cause.” He looks down as the translator speaks. Both Hilma and Miguel look confused. Unsure of what to say, neither of them speaks.

The doctor then says in a formal, yet sympathetic voice. “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you that Marquita has died.”

When the translator finishes Hilma stiffens and grabs Miguel’s arm to steady herself. He keeps his wife standing while he looks at the doctor. His expressionless face finally changes into one of astonishment as he asks, “She’s dead?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. You have the condolences of all the doctors who were working on Marquita. Someone from administration will meet with you soon to discuss arrangements. Again, you have my deepest condolences.” The doctor is careful with his words, but his sincerity cannot stop Hilma from beginning to wail.

Miguel let’s go of his wife and she sinks to the floor. Miguel looks down at the ground as he breathes heavily before letting his body collapse into a chair. Hilma cries and beats the floor screaming, “Dead? Dead? No. No. No Marquita! Not my little girl! Not my baby!”

The translator steps back from the Morenos, but the doctor stays as he suggests to Miguel, “We have a hospital chaplain.”

Miguel looks up to the doctor with glassy eyes and quietly says, “Just go.”

As the doctor and the translator leave the room Hilma remains on the ground as she shouts, “You weren’t there! You weren’t there, Miguel!”

 

11: Chapter Eleven

In the basement of the hospital an orderly pushes a gurney with the body of Marquita under a thin sheet into the morgue. A folder of paperwork rests on her feet. The attendant looks up when he hears the door open and smiles. He walks over to the gurney and helps the orderly push it into place by an examination table.

“Hey Dave, what do you have for me?” The attendant casually asks.

The orderly removes the paperwork from Marquita’s feet, and hands it to the attendant, and nonchalantly says, “Female. Sixteen. Didn’t make it out of surgery.”

Neither realizes Mechteld presence in a corner nook of the room, kneeling under a shelf with large bottles of bleach. Mechteld is once again in her hoodie, ball cap, and shemagh. Her bag is open in front of her with a small box poking out the top. As the orderly and the attendant make small conversation she takes out the box and opens it; letting it’s contents run across the floor.

Both men jump back and the attendant fearfully asks, “Was that a rat?

Dave steps away from the direction that the rat ran. He looks disgusted as he says, “Yeah, a big one.”

Still leaning defensively against the counter the attendant says, “Shit, my supervisor is going to be pissed. We had a critical violation during our last inspection.”

Dave looks in the direction the rat went and says, “I can get maintenance for you.”

The attendant examines the ground carefully before stepping away from the counter. “I’ll go. I don’t want to be in the same room with that thing. I hate rats.” 

The two men leave the room and moments later Mechteld crawls out from under the shelf. She momentarily walks out into the hall, but quickly returns with a wheel chair. She rolls it next to Marquita’s gurney and sets the brakes.

She goes to Marquita’s body and takes off the sheet. Marquita is motionless and still in her hospital dressing gown. Her eyes are closed and her head now has a long stitched scar across the top. Mechteld unties the top of the dressing gown and pulls it down. She then leans down and reaches into her bag. She pulls out a long sleeve cotton shirt with faded designs. She works the shirt over Marquita’s head and then slips her thin and lifeless arms through the sleeves. Next Mechteld takes out a long brown skirt and pulls it up Marquita’s short legs. After Marquita is dressed, Mechteld sits Marquita’s unstable body up and hooks her arm under Marquita’s knees and uses her left arm to support her back. She quickly carries Marquita to the nearby wheelchair and sets her down. Mechteld adjusts the footrest of the chair and carefully places Marquita’s feet in them. Mechteld then grabs her bag and takes out the four remaining items: a black hijab, a pair of flip-flops, a medical facemask, and a pair of sunglasses. She finishes dressing Marquita and tries to steady her body into a less conspicuous position.

Mechteld releases the brakes on wheel chair and pushes Marquita near the door. She then turns and takes the sheet that covered Marquita and throws it into a nearby linens basket. Finally before leaving, she collects the paperwork the orderly had brought and stuffs it into her bag. She opens the door and backs the two of them out and then casually walks down the hall to the elevator.

When Mechteld and Marquita reach the elevator, the morgue attendant and maintenance worker walk out. They pass the two women without a glance and continue down the hallway. Mechteld backs the wheelchair into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby. She then takes out and puts on her sun glasses and adjusts her shemagh. When the elevator doors open again she pushes Marquita out into the crowded lobby. She keeps her face looking forward and aloof as she pushes Marquita to the exit. Without looking back Mechteld walks outside in into the busy afternoon street. 

“Damn, it’s gotten hotter,” she says to herself. 

12: Chapter Twelve

In Astoria, Queens, Mechteld sits at a window of a youth hostel smoking a cigarette as she watches the people on the street below. Just like Marquita, Mechteld also likes watching the people from a distance. At a distance people could not see her face and at a distance she could only make assumptions about each person who passed.

            In the small sparsely finished room Marquita rests on a twin size bed under a thin blanket. Between Marquita and Mechteld a table is covered with a small stack of newspapers, a cell phone, and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts.  By the bed Mechteld’s 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.

            On the bed Marquita begins to stir. Her eyes open as she breathes in deeply and then she sits upright choking and gasping. As she chokes, Marquita cringes and contorts into a sitting position while she grabs her head. After a few seconds of gasping and a shooting pain from behind her eyes her body calms and Marquita eyes focus once more. She takes in her shabby surrounding and looks confused.

Marquita holds her throbbing head and asks aloud to herself, “Where am I?”

Mechteld takes her attention away from the window, lays her still lit cigarette in the ashtray, and says, “A hostel in Astoria. We’ll lay low here while you heal.” Mechteld gets up from her seat and to sits on the edge of Marquita’s bed. Marquita keeps her eyes down while she examines the bed. 

            Marquita mind tries to process her situation. She was in Astoria with the Nurse Lazarus, a woman she just met.

“Is this a dream? Am I still in the surgery?” Marquita asks.

“No.” Mechtels answers.

Marquita then asks, “Are you sure? It feels like a dream.”

Mechteld doesn’t answer, but Marquita doesn’t need her to. She knows this isn’t a dream, despite the bizarre situation. Marquita wonders how she came to be in this room, but then she remembers the prayer she made at the hospital. She asks herself, “Is this it? Is this God’s answer?” She turns to Mechteld to seek conformation to this unspoken question, but instead her body involuntarily jerks when she sees Mechteld. It’s the first time she sees her without a mask and surgical garb covering every inch of her skin. Now, she could see her face, neck, and arms and it repulsed her.

            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, abrasions, and even a gunshot. 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.           

Marquita tries to not act startled, but her body betrays her sensitivities. Marquita had never before seen someone that she could truly describe as “horrifying”. Marquita attempts to hide her aversion by looking around the room and asking, “Astoria? We’re still in Queens?” She pauses and looks at the lack of furniture, the pile of cigarette butts and water stains on the ceiling. “I thought we’d be somewhere more…”

“This isn’t heaven. It’s a single smoking room for forty-seven dollars a day. There’s a communal shower whenever you feel like bathing.” Mechteld’s voice is flat and dull. She doesn’t look at Marquita, instead settling to look at the faded carpet.

Marquita stares forward, not really listening to Mechteld. Her ears begin to buzz and she can feel her body beginning to sweat. Carefully she asks, “Am I alive or dead?”

“You’re very much alive.” Mechteld answers in a plain and simple tone.

Marquita starts to breathe quick shallow breaths. Marquita feels an intense surge of confusion and shame that is so powerful that it nauseates her. Her eyes go wide and watery before she quickly covers her face to hide her crying from Mechteld. Through her hands Marquita sobs, “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.”

            Marquita stares at Mechteld, disturbed by her unfeeling voice and pedestrian manner. There was no comfort or sympathy in Mechteld’s words. Mechteld has the personality that reminds Marquita of hospital administrators her family had come to revile.  She was now realizing that God did not send Mechteld. After years of unceasing dedication to God, she has not been delivered from either her physical inflictions or the mental anguish she felt from being different. Instead Marquita has been taken by what she can only describe as a “monster”. 

13: Chapter Thirteen

Marquita presses her fingers against her temples as she tries to focus. She has many questions, but doesn’t know where to begin. Finally she decides to the simplest one, “How did you get me here.”

“Wheel chair.” Mechteld answers, pointing to the corner of the room where the chair now sits folded up. “It was pretty easy once I got you on the subway.”  She adds.

“No one noticed?” Marquita asks, her voice both astonished and slightly offended.

“They noticed you’re gone,” Mechteld says, but pauses before adding, “but it took them a few hours.” Mechteld reaches over to the bedside table and picks up one of the newspapers.  She opens the newspaper three pages in, folds it in half and hands it to Marquita.“They’re trying to put together the surveillance videos now, but it won’t matter.”

Marquita takes the newspaper and holds it examining the article’s title, “Body Snatchers?” Her eyes scan over words such as “negligence”, “impersonation”, and “unidentified”. Marquita’s eyes rest on the two side by side photos accompanying the article. The first is what Marquita recognizes as her seventh grade school picture and the second is of her parents, sitting on the couch in their apartment. Hilma’s head is bowed, crying into a tissue and her father Miguel looking down and away from the camera. To Marquita it looks as if he had been crying, which surprises her. After staring at the picture Marquita comes to a realization that sends a shock through her body. She drops the paper in her lap.

“My parents.” Marquita cranes her head towards the window. “I’m not that far from home. I can be back within an hour.” She starts to shift in the bed, but stops when Mechteld finally turns to look her in the face.

“You can’t see them Marquita.” Mechteld’s voice is no longer listless. Now she is forceful and strong. Not deterred, Marquita tries to match Mechteld’s tone.

“I’ll call them.” She says as she eyes the cell phone on the table. “I wonder if anyone is home right now.” Marquita reaches for the cell phone, but before her fingers reach it Mechteld quickly claps her hand over it.

“What are you going to tell them?”Mechteld stares deep into Marquita’s eyes. The blue that she before thought as beautiful was now unnerving to Marquita. Mechteld continues, her pace slower, but each word carrying a deep seriousness. “Right now not only do they think you’re dead, but they’ve been told your body is missing.”

Marquita didn't know how to process what Mechteld was telling her. Her body was stolen? Everyone thought she was dead? Usually Marquita always knows if she can trust someone, but with Mechteld she’s not sure. Is she lying? Is this a trick? Why was she here and not in the hospital?  

Marquita can feel tears starting to form in her eyes again, but this time from fear. She tries to steady her voice, but a small quaver betrays her emotions. “But I’m okay. I need to let my mother know where I am. She’ll be worried.” Her last sentence barely squeaks out of her mouth as she starts to sob again.

“Marquita, they think you’re dead.” Mechteld repeats again, adamantly.

 

“It doesn’t matter. I need to speak with them.” Marquita pleas.

 

“And tell them what?” Mechteld asks, sounding slightly more annoyed.

 

“That I’m alive!” Marquita yells. “I can go home and we’ll be okay.”

 

“You’re not going home. You’re not seeing them again.” Mechteld says, her voice resolute.

Marquita lets her body collapse into the bed and rock onto her side as she continuously repeats through choking sobs. “What? What? What?”

Marquita’s mind cannot focus on a single thought. She frantically tries to organize the information she’s being told, but is unable to grasp onto any fact long enough to absorb it.  She begins to rock back and forth and whispering in Spanish, “Mama, where are you?”

Under her breath Mechteld mutters, “ik haat kinderen.”

She raises her voice over Marquita’s crying and calmly says, “It’s my responsibility to prevent you from telling anyone about what happened.”

Marquita responds by rolling onto her belly to cry loudly into her pillow. Mechteld tries to remain calm, but she finds Marquita’s uncontrollable wailing extremely uncomfortable.

Mechteld continues, with a softer attitude than before. “Listen your now a little more different than you were before and it’s something that must be kept secret.” She pauses, and then tries to adopt a more reasoning tone. “You know what it’s like keeping a secret and now you have more than one secret to protect.”

Marquita stops after hearing the word secret. She had been keeping a secret for most of her life and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like being different. The whole point of her surgery was so she didn’t have to have a secret or be different anymore. Now Maquita is enraged. She rolls onto her back again and sits up. She looks at Mechteld with large angry eyes still red from crying.

“This is crazy!” Marquita shouts. “I feel the same. I want to go home!”

Mechteld raises her voice and tries to sound assertive while looking at the wall and door. “Please don’t shout. People might think you’ve been kidnapped.”

“I have been! You’ve taken me and won’t let me go home.” Marquita can feel herself starting to become frantic. She wants to leave, but her legs felt heavy and immobile.

 “You can’t kidnap a dead body.” Mechteld tells her, almost flippantly.

The words “dead body” brings images from stories she heard from her grandparents. Stories that they would tell her to scare her into being well behaved when she visited them in Santo Domingo. They told her they’d sell her to a man who used resurrected dead bodies as slaves on his sugar cane farm. Had she been dead? Was she truly alive now? She thinks about the article title, “Body Snatchers?” Marquita’s frantic feelings now erupt into full-blown hysterical screaming.

“Oh God, am I a zombie?” Panic overtakes Marquita. She searches the skin and her fingers and arms for answers. When she sees her young, unblemished toffee skin she asks, “Am I gonna look like you?”

Mechteld tries to keep her voice calm, but her irritation seeps into her voice as she tells Marquita through clenched teeth, “Marquita, if you’ll just relax, I’ll explain things.”

“You can’t make me stay!” Marquita shouts as she tries to get out of the bed, but her legs crumble beneath her. She reaches out her arms to brace her, but instead lands hard on her belly. She looks back at Mechteld and cries, “Oh God, what have you done to my legs!”

Mechteld sits motionless as she watches Marquita writhe. Now completely annoyed, Mechteld exhales a long breath before answering, “Nothing, you’ve been laying in a bed without moving for three days. Your muscles have probably atrophied a little.”

“I don’t believe you. I’ve been drugged! What do you want with me?!” Marquita shrieks as she rolls unto her back and tries to stand. Before she can, Mechteld takes a pillow from the bed and leaps at Marquita. She forces the pillow over Marquita’s mouth and uses what little weight she has to keep Marquita pinned to the ground by her shoulders.

“Listen, you can either get in bed and I’ll tell you everything you need to know or you can kick and scream and I’ll knock your teeth out before tying you up. Either way, you’re going to listen to me.” 

            Marquita can feel Mechteld’s hot cigarette tinged breath against her forehead. Every instinct tells her that she needs to fight. Marquita tries to thrash against Mechteld to free herself from under the pillow. She throws her hands up, grabbing at whatever part of Mechteld she can reach until she finally makes contact with the bare skin of Mechteld’s arm. The touch Mechteld’s skin is like an electric shock to Marquita. In Marquita’s mind she can only see static as she feels a force holding her down that she knows isn’t physical.

Now Marquita knows that Mechteld is different, just like her. She now knows that Mechteld was a psychic too. 

14: Chapter Fourteen

Still straddling Marquita, Mechteld throws aside the pillow and pulls back her arm to strike Marquita. Before she can throw the punch Marquita covers her mouth and screams, “Wait! Stop! Please!”

            Mechteld stands up and takes a step away from Marquita. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply to calm herself. After a moment she looks down at Marquita and in exasperation asks, “Are you ready to talk?”

            Marquita’s hands still burn from the sensation of touching Mechteld’s skin. She feels dizzy and her eyes are not able to focus. Her body now feels both mentally and physically exhausted after the few moments of contact. Unconsciously, she curls into a fetal position and begins to cry again. Between sobbing breaths she says, “I don’t even know you!” and asks, ”What do you want with me?”

Mechteld looks at Marquita and in that moment she feels pity for her. She realizes that perhaps she has gone too far or exposed her to too much too quickly. She didn’t recognize that the strength of her abilities was unlike anything Marquita has ever experienced. She’d also forgotten that despite Marquita ‘s own abilities, she was still a girl.

Mechteld sees that the stitches from on Marquita’s head have opened and her scalp has separated leaving a bloody gash. “I’ve broken your stitches, I’m sorry.” Mechteld’s voice was flat again. She walks over to the belonging lying by her bag and picks up a sewing kit and rag. “Let me fix it.”

Marquita feels the gash on her head and then backs away from Mechteld. She drags herself as far back as she can in the small room until she comes to a stop under the room’s only window. Mechteld takes a deep breath and then with a more insistent voice says, “I’m not going to hurt you. Sit on the bed, listen to what I need to say, and let me fix your stitches.”

Marquita doesn’t move towards Mechteld or the bed. Instead she responds by bringing her knees up to her chin and cowering. Mechteld tries softening her approach and says, “Do you want your head to heal like that? You’ll have an awful part in your hair.”

            Marquita only sits, trying desperately to hold in a sob. Choking sounds come out of her throat while tears bounce off her chin onto her knees. Mechteld can feel her temper rising again. She breathes out and closes her eyes. “Fine, I’ll come to you.”

When Mechteld nears Marquita, she instinctively covers her head and shrinks her body lower to the ground. Again, Mechteld takes in a deep breathe and tries to not become angry. She approaches more slowly with her arms out; trying to look nonthreatening.  In a soft voice she calmly says, “I won’t hurt you. Please, just sit there and listen while I fix you up.”

Marquita looks up at Mechteld who’s now at her side. She tries to sound strong, as she cries, “Nothing you say will stop me from seeing my parents.”

“Please, just listen for now.” Mechteld softly says.

Mechteld sits down at the chair next to the window, opens the sewing kit and takes out a spool of black thread. She measures out a few inches of the thread and then reaches for an inch long needle. She quickly threads the needle and then places it between her teeth. Mechteld then takes the rag and turns to Marquita.

Marquita clenches her muscles in anticipation for another intense shock, but receives none. This time Mechteld’s touch feels like hot pricks followed by a numb sensation. Marquita’s vision once again sees static as Mechteld wipes blood away from the open wound.

With the needle still in her mouth, Mechteld starts to speak. Marquita notices her tone is different now. It’s no longer harsh. Instead it takes on a pensive quality that slightly distracts Marquita from the discomfort of her broken stitches.

“When I was a girl I was a lot like you. I was also different and I couldn’t tell anyone. I knew that if I did…” Mechteld’s voice trails off as she thinks about her next sentence, but unable to find the proper words, she continues by saying, “Well, I just knew I never could.” When Mechteld says this Marquita sees the static pulsate slightly, as if something was pushing from behind it.

Mechteld shortly pauses while setting the now blood soaked rag on the table. She continues after taking the needle out of her mouth. “But one day someone came to me. He was also different. Different like me.”

            Mechteld pinches the skin of Marquita’s scalp and then pierces it with the needle. Marquita gives a small wince, but Mechteld continues her story with the same reflective tone. “He showed me stories in his head. He showed me impossible things…”

Mechteld pauses in thought and Marquita can see the static once again fluctuate. She then continues, “He told me I was special. He told that there are others like us and that we were rare and revered. He told me that I could be greater; that my ability could be respected and not feared. He told me that I could be these things, but that he would need to change me.”

Marquita wants to interrupt and ask what she meant by “change”, but Mechteld continues without pausing and says, “You’re also special Marquita, more special than you can imagine. I’ve been watching you for a while and I know what you can do.”

            Marquita’s body stiffens. She wants to turn her head and look at Mechteld, but the pull of the thread reminds her to sit still. It was rare that anyone could surprise Marquita. She always knew someone’s thoughts and intentions despite how deep they buried their secrets.

“You’ve been watching me? How is that possible? I would have known. I can hear everyone around me. I can see inside them…”Marquita trails off trying to find the right word, but before she can, Mechteld finishes her thought.

“Except for me? Am I right?” Mechteld adds as she pulls the needle and thread. She pinches Marquita’s scalp again and starts another stitch. Mechteld continues, “You couldn’t hear me in the hospital and you can’t hear me now even though I literally have my fingers under your skin.”

The thought disgusts Marquita and causes her to squirm, but it elicits a small smile from Mechteld. Mechteld pauses for a brief moment and then curiously asks, “I’m interested in knowing, what do you see when I touch you?”

Marquita thinks for a moment and then evasively answers, “Can’t you just read me and know?”

“I’m giving you your privacy.” Mechteld answers and then adds, “I know you can see auras around people.”

Marquita is confused by the word, “aura”. After a moment she asks, “You mean their souls?”

Mechteld raises an eyebrow and asks, “Is that what you think it is?”

Marquita is not sure at first on how to answer, but then knowingly replies, “Of course, almost every living person has it and it disappears when they die.”

Mechteld reflects a moment on Marquita’s answer and then concedes, “Well, if we have souls, I guess that’s what we’re seeing.”

Marquita had never before discussed this with another person. She always wondered on her own what the colorful halos that she saw around people were, but she had never met anyone that could see them too. When she mentioned what she saw to her mother and a doctor they assumed it was a symptom of her seizures. Marquita didn’t tell them that she saw these halos all the time and that the inner feelings of each person could be seen by their halos.

The closest thing Marquita saw that resembled the colors she saw with each person were the bright halos of Jesus and the saints and the dark air that surrounded the devil.  When she was a girl she asked her priest about the halos she saw in the church’s icons and he told her the halos showed “God’s divine grace filling their souls”. She had never asked what the black surrounding the devil meant. She only assumed it meant God was not present in the soul of the devil.

 Marquita didn’t know how to interpret Mechteld’s halo. Her halo wasn’t black like the devil’s, but it didn’t have the beautiful radiance of the saints. There were times Marquita saw people surrounded by blackness, but she never knew what their inner thoughts because she was too afraid to get close. Mechteld’s halo was also different from almost everyone she has seen. Mechteld’s was different because Marquita could only see it while in direct contact. 

While Marquita is deep in thought, Mechteld starts the last stitch. As she does she says, “The auras are how is it begun with me. It started when I was a child. I could see what was really inside a person’s heart. I knew if they were lying, scared, happy, or in love.”

            She pulls on the needle and thread one last time and ties a tight knot. While she inspects the stitches she asks again, “What does my aura show you?”

Marquita remarks, “I can only see it when I touch you. For most people it’s around them constantly.”

“But not everyone.” Mechteld knowingly adds as she stands up from the chair and walks to her bag.

“Yeah, I never understood why. I thought maybe their souls had left them.” Marquita says. She then cautiously asks, “Are they like you?”

“Like us? Yes.” Mechteld answers as she pulls a bottle of antiseptic from her bag. She pauses as she kneels by her bag and then says, “And no. It’s complicated.” Before Marquita can ask about what she meant by “complicated”, Mechteld asks for a third time, “So, what does my aura look like when you touch me?”

Marquita can hear the genuine intrigue in Mechteld’s voice, which in turn intrigues Marquita. Up to this point Mechteld had been doing the explaining, but now it was Marquita’s turn. She wonders how she should answer Mechteld’s question. After a few seconds of thinking Marquita decided she wants to payback Mechtled for her callous attitude. Marquita settles on being honest and bluntly tells her, “It’s ugly.”

Mechteld pauses when she hears this and gives a small smirk and quips, “Ugly aura. Ugly soul. Ugly face. Sounds about right.”

Undeterred by Mechteld nonchalant joke, Marquita decides to get more descriptive and says, “It’s like a gray static that surrounds you. It’s trying to block something.” Marquita notices the smallest change in Mechteld’s body language. She becomes stiffer and her eyes dart to different spots in the room. Marquita continues, “You’re trying to push against it, but it’s pushing back.” As Mechteld approaches with the bottle, Marquita looks up at her and locks eyes. Marquita finally sees Mechteld becoming unnerved. In a calculated decision Marquita tells Mechteld, “It wants out.”

Marquita’s comment stops Mechteld from approaching any further and she stands still with the bottle of antiseptic and the bloody rag in her hand. She’s not sure if she should touch Marquita again. She’s afraid of what might be revealed.

“Didn’t like that, did you?” After an hour of abuse, Marquita feels she has finally found the only usable weapon against Mechteld: exposure. 

Mechteld opens the antiseptic, wets the rag and then looks into Marquita’s eyes. She returns to her stony demeanor before saying, “This will sting.”

Mechteld slaps the rag on Marquita’s fresh stitches and Marquita recoils with a soft scream. After recovering from the brief pain Marquita looks up to Mechteld and asks the question that’s been weighing on her mind the most, “Why can’t I hear you? I can hear everyone and see their memories, too.”

Mechteld closes the bottle and lays it on the windowsill. She looks again to the people on the street below. She then turns to Marquita and says, “I’m a little different. I learned control. I learned how to keep people out. It’s something I hope to teach you.” 

15: Chapter Fifteen

For Marquita her ability had always been a one-way street. She could enter others minds, but she had never met someone who could enter her mind. She didn’t know that she could protect her mind from others or that she would even need to. The one thing that did sound enticing to Marquita was the possibility that she could prevent herself from hearing the thoughts of another person. Her ability had become more sensitive in the last year. Recently, she was even able hear her neighbors thoughts through the walls. Crowded rooms were now unbearable for Marquita and school was torture. Five hundred students attended her school and each day she had to listen to each idle thought that filled their minds. With all the noise she was hardly able to have her own thoughts anymore. 

Furthermore, she wasn’t able to keep friends. They wanted to know how she knew certain things about them. Usually, they assumed that Marquita had been gossiping behind their backs and now most of the girls in her grade no longer talked to her.

The offer to learn control was also intriguing to Marquita because as her ability grew stronger, she believed that she would eventually succumb to madness. It’s why the surgery was vital to Marquita. Removing the tumor would not only save her physical life, but also finally give her mind relief from the now insufferable voices around her. Marquita now wonders, did the doctors remove the tumor? She remembers them starting the surgery. If they had, then it was now clear that the tumor wasn’t the cause of her ability. 

            Marquita wonders, “Is this my only option for a normal life?” but then immediately feels wave of shame rise up from her stomach. She quickly reminds herself that leaving her family is never an option. She wonders how Mechteld can be so insensitive about taking her from her home and loved ones. If she had been watching her, wouldn’t she know she has a family?

“How long have you been watching me?” Marquita asks.

Mechteld thinks a moment and then answers, “I encountered your father about two years ago. I was able to read from him that he had a daughter who’s psychic and also in bad health. I’ve kept an eye on you since.”

Marquita feels complete disbelief. For two years this person has been able to watch her without her knowledge. Questions spring into Marquita head: Is this true? How is it possible? Why did she just watch? Why did she keep herself a secret? What has she seen?

Mechteld continues, “When I learned that you’d be having a risky surgery I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

What Mechteld said struck Marquita as odd. She would describe her surgery as many things, but an opportunity was not one of them. Despite being slightly afraid to hear the answer Marquita asks, “Opportunity for what?”

“To change you before you died.” Mechteld’s voice is serious, but the answer is mysterious to Marquita. Again she hears the word “change” and it confuses her. Besides her legs being weak and the new scar on her head, she looks and feels the same.

Still confused Marquita asks, “To change me? Into what? I’m the same.”

“You’re not.” Mechteld says, her voice becoming edgier and more excited. “Everyone thinks you died Marquita, but you never did. You didn’t die then and you won’t die now.” Mechteld pauses and watches Marquita for any reaction. After receiving none Mechteld continues, “You never will because I changed you.”

            There’s a silence as Marquita thinks. As they sit, cars and people can her heard outside, but neither Marquita nor Mechteld move or make a sound. Mechteld doesn’t breath as she waits nervously for recognition from Marquita. Finally Marquita asks, “What does that mean, ‘You never will’?”

“You will never die.” Mechteld says strongly, emphasizing each word. “Your heart will continue beating forever.”

None of what Mechteld has said makes sense to Marquita. She sits below the window trying to piece together the information, but then finally looks up and says, “I don’t get it.”

Mechteld shrugs her shoulders a little and says, “There’s not a lot to it. You can’t die and you’ll never grow older. That’s about it.”

Mechteld’s attitude is so ordinary that Marquita still cannot comprehend what she is being told. Marquita furrows her brow and tries to guess if there’s a hidden meaning. Not knowing what to say, Marquita says what she knows to be true. “Everyone dies.”

“I haven’t.” Mechteld states plainly and then continues, “Millions of others haven’t and you won’t either.”

Mechtled looks down and meets Marquita’s gaze. Marquita knows what Mechteld is saying is impossible. Despite being sixteen, nothing about life is a secret to Marquita. For over ten years she has read the minds of almost every person she’s come in contact with. She knows what is real and what is a delusion from a sick mind. As she looks into Mechteld eyes, she concludes that Mechteld must be insane. 

It doesn’t surprise Marquita that Mechteld is crazy. One of Marquita’s greatest fears is losing her mind because of her ability. Keeping so many secrets and knowing the darkest thoughts of her friends and loved ones is a great burden to her mind. Perhaps Mechteld’s mind has degraded under the stress and created a fantasy that she could save people from death. If she has been following her for two years, this delusion has been slowly growing over time. Perhaps after two years of obsession, she tried to make her fantasy a reality on the day of the surgery.

But some thoughts about Mechteld invade Marquita’s mind and cast a small shadows of doubt. The paper said she was stolen from a morgue. How could she fool doctors into thinking she was dead? But biggest question for Marquita is, how could someone with such strong psychic control be losing her mind?

Despite the lingering questions, Marquita now knows what she must do. She knows that she must remain calm and not excite Mechteld’s temper again. She knows that she needs to either get the cell phone on the table or get out of this room. “She’ll have to leave to this room eventually,” Marquita tells herself. “She’ll have to eat, she’ll have to sleep, she’ll have to go to the bathroom, when she does I’ll make my move.”

16: Chapter Sixteen

Marquita keeps reviewing the plan in her head. If she can get the phone, she’ll call home. If her parents think she’s alive, she knows they’ll never stop looking for her. If Mechteld leaves the room, she’ll try to signal someone outside. If she takes her out of the room she’ll throw herself at the first person they encounter. Marquita wonders if Mechteld is capable of killing her or any witness, but she then decides it is a risk she will take. Marquita is not sure what she’ll do if they don’t run into anyone while leaving the building. Marquita knows she can’t run on her weak legs, but perhaps she can hide. She knows she must get away. She knows that the longer she is with this insane individual, the more likely it is that she’ll never see her family.

Marquita asks herself, “Now that she has me what does she plan on doing with me.”

Disregarding all the information Mechteld just told her, she changes the topic and asks, “Why did you take me from my family?

            Mechteld shifts in her chair; aggravated with Marquita’s deep denial. In her experience, people acted differently to this literally life changing news. But then she reminds herself, “They had violent conversions, Marquita merely drifted asleep.” She breathes in and tries to calm her impatience and anger.

She leans forward towards Marquita and explains, “Talent like yours needs to be nurtured, guided, and protected. We can’t do that in Corona.”

Marquita resists the urge to roll her eyes. Everything Mechteld says sounds ridiculous to her. Attempting to disguise her disbelief Marquita asks, “And where will we go?”

“Baltimore.” Mechteld answers.

“Baltimore?” Marquita asks, letting out a small laugh. “How is Baltimore better than Queens?”

            Mechteld starts to unconsciously crack her knuckles. She wasn’t used to people laughing at something she said. Usually, most people were too afraid to say or do anything when she was around. She can feel rage bubbling up into her chest, but she reminds herself that losing her temper again will accomplish nothing at this delicate stage.

“Well, to start with, everyone here thinks you’re dead. If someone you knew saw you that would be extremely suspicious.” Mechteld tries to keep her voice calm, but her answer comes out as a yell. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “In Baltimore we can both focus on your training. Queens will have too many distractions for you.”

            Marquita sits quietly. She knows it’s useless to argue with Mechteld on the merits of Baltimore. She told herself it didn’t matter anyway; there was no way she would be going to Baltimore.

Mechteld once again takes on a pensive tone as she says, “I wasn’t trained right when I began. I made a lot of mistakes, mistakes you can learn from.”

Marquita stares at a dark spot on the floor. She can feel her heart beating and her palms sweating. Despite all the hardships in the past year, this was the most stressful for her. She keeps her eyes on the dark spot and flatly says, “I don’t want to learn anything from you. I don’t want to be different. I want to go home.”

The two women sit in silence as the light begins to slightly wane outside. Mechteld ponders what strategy she would need to use next. She knows what Marquita’s breaking point is and that she only needs to apply a little more pressure in order to see results. She also notes that Maquita’s resilience has been surprising and it will no doubt be a useful asset in the future.

Before Mechteld can speak Marquita also decides to use a new tactic. She shifts her tone and says, “I won’t tell anyone where I was. Just let me go and it’ll be over.”

Trying to not sound aggravated Mechteld plainly says, “It’s too late now. It’s been done.”

Marquita had always been a calm person, but Mechteld’d refusal causes a rage to spike in her. If her legs had been strong she knows she would have charged at Mechteld, but instead she sits with her fists clenched and eyes staring forward and away from Mechteld. Marquita realizes she has never felt this way before. She has never been so uncontrollable. While trying to keep her voice steady she says, “You made a mistake by taking me. I don’t want this. I want to go home.” Her voice cracks when she finishes her sentence. Unable to contain her emotions, she begins to cry and hides her face in her knees.

Mechteld feels uncomfortable as she watches Marquita start to sob again. She knows she must change her strategy now in order to get Marquita off her one-track pursuit of returning home. Mechteld looks down and Marquita and says, “You don’t believe me.”

            “How can I? What you’re saying is impossible.” Marquita sobs as she looks up at Mechteld.

Mechteld holds the gaze but then breaks it and stares out the window again. She then asks, “You love your parents right?”

“Yes. Of course.” The question sets off alarm bells in Marquita’s head. Was this woman about to threaten her family? Were they safe now?

Mechteld continues, “They’ve had a difficult life right? They’ve always had to work hard jobs to provide for you. And to pay all those medical bills from your seizures and medications really cut into their American dream, right?”

“Yes.” Marquita answers.  She wonders why Mechteld is saying all of this. It doesn’t sound like a threat, but Marquita knows better than to trust a crazy person. 

Again Mechteld continues, “And the surgery didn’t help anything. There definitely wasn’t any money before and I believe if it weren’t for that anonymous donation the surgery wouldn’t have happened at all.”

Marquita knew that Mechteld was implying more than what she was saying. Irritated, she asks, “What’s your point?”

Astutely, Mechteld asks, “What if you could give them the life they deserved? A life where they can finally relax and have what they want. A life where the next bill in the mail isn’t the cause of another argument between your parents. Your dad won’t have to drive that truck anymore; they can get out of the city, and send some cash back home to Santo Domingo.”

Marquita gives Mechteld an incredulous look and asks, “Are you going to give them money?” She can feel her anger rising. Did she think that she could buy her parents off? Marquita then heatedly adds, “They would prefer me over any check…”

“No, I’m not going to give them money.”Mechteld answers. “Think of it this way. Your parents are going to be insanely rich after they sue the hospital.  After all, their beautiful daughter was stolen from a morgue with a history of critical violations. Who knows what has happened to you? Sold on the black market? Ritual sacrifice? Pedophilic necromantic bride?” Mechteld gives a small smile before saying, “A jury will reward them anything they ask and they’ll ask for a lot.”

Still angry, Marquita counters, “My parents don’t know the first thing about suing people. My mother doesn’t even speak English. Plus, they don’t have any money to hire a lawyer.”

Unfazed, Mechteld says, “It’ll be no problem for them. I arranged for a lawyer to meet with them. They’ve already started the process. He told them he’ll collect his fee after they win.” 

She shifts back in her chair again and says, “He’s a good lawyer and he’s one of us. He says the case will be simple. The only thing that prevents this plan from working is you.”

Marquita didn’t believe anything Mechteld said. It was clear to Marquita that Mechteld’s delusion was deeply entrenched in her mind. She’d clearly thought of an answer to all of Marquita’s questions and evidence beforehand. Marquita tries to focus her mind on the plan. She tells herself, “Just hold on and get out of the room. When you’re out everything will be fine.” But the frustration starts to bring more tears to Marquita’s eyes. Angry that her parents would be used as leverage against her, she stares at the ground and harshly whispers, “This is ridiculous. You’re lying.”

“Except, I’m not”. Mechteld reaches for one of the papers on the table. She flips through the pages and searches the articles. She then folds the paper in half and lays it in Marquita’s lap. Marquita looks down at the paper and sees the title, “Family of Missing Queen’s Hospital Girl Hires Lawyer.”

“Give it time and you’ll see how this is the only option.” Mechteld adds resolutely.

Marquita stares at the paper. In a small article she again sees the names of herself and her parents. She quickly scans the article and confirms that Mechteld was at least partially telling the truth. Again she clenches her fist; crumpling the paper.  But this time it wasn’t rage surging through her body, but dismay. For her the article revealed a deep and painful question. Marquita wonders, did her parents truly accept that she was dead?

A doubtful voice in Marquita’s head then asks, “How can a crazy person arrange all of this?” But just as quickly as she thinks it she silences the thought with a with a mantra of “It can’t be true. It can’t be true.”

Marquita wasn’t sure if Mechteld would respond to reason, but decides to use the evidence she knows is irrefutable.

 “If there are millions of people who…” Marquita trails off. She doesn’t want to give credence to anything Mechteld has said, but unable to find a suitable word she shakily says, “..can’t die, I would know. I would have read it in someone’s mind by now.”

“The people without auras, do you know any?” Mechteld asks.

Maquita is caught slightly off guard. She wasn’t expecting Mechteld to challenge her testimony. Flustered, she says “No, I see them sometimes, but I don’t know any of them personally.”

Mechteld skillfully asks, “Have you read their thoughts?”

Marquita searches her mind for the last time she saw someone without an aura. She remembers seeing a man on the subway on the way to a doctor’s appointment. He sat across from her, but did she read his mind? It was always so difficult to focus on one mind when she was on a crowded subway. Marquita struggles remembering each instance she saw someone without an aura. She saw a woman at the laundry mat, but a boy from her class was there also and she wanted to read his thoughts instead. She searches for more instances, but only finds missed connections. It’s then that she realizes that she hasn’t read the minds of any aura-less people. Marquita tells herself that it doesn’t prove anything.

Marquita tells herself, “So what if I haven’t read their minds. That doesn’t mean anything. It can’t be true. It can’t be true.”

After a moment, Marquita responds, “You still have no proof.”

“You’re the proof.” Mechteld answers.

Marquita put her head in her hands; frustrated with Mechteld’s response. Marquita shouts, “I’m exactly the same except I have a damn hole in head!”

Mechteld stays calm. She knows that despite the resistance from Marquita, she is making progress. She then asks, “Weren’t you supposed to be in the ICU after surgery?”

“…Yes.” Marquita hesitantly answers. She knows this is true, yet the sudden realization of this causes a stinging heat to spread out from her spine.

Mechteld then asks, “And weren’t you supposed to have at least two weeks of recovery in the hospital?”

“Yeah.” The stinging heat continues to spread. She can feel it in her legs and in her fingers. In her mind she tells herself, “No, no, it means nothing. It’s not true. It’s not true.”

Mechteld then continues, “Yet, here you are, in Astoria, with no doctors, no machines, and no medicine; sitting up and arguing with me. How is that possible?”

How was it possible that she wasn’t attached to a machine? And what about the medicine she needed to take to keep her brain from swelling? Marquita reminds herself that everything Mechteld has said is impossible and there has to be a reasonable explanation for everything. She quietly tells herself, “Everyone dies.”

Mechteld gives out a deep exhale and in an almost teasing voice says, “I don’t understand you Marquita. At the hospital you thought God sent me, but now you can’t believe that I’m here to help you.”

“You’ve shown me nothing.” Marquita quickly retorts, but both Mechteld and Marquita know that this is a lie.

Mechteld takes the paper from Marquita’s lap and places it back on the stack of newspapers. Casually she says, “When we get to Baltimore I can show you more.”

Marquita pulls her knees up to her chest and lays her head there. She closes her eyes and whispers, “I’m not going to Baltimore.”

Marquita pushes away all the information Mechteld has said. Instead she focuses on home and repeats to herself, “Just stick to the plan. Get the phone or get out of the room.”

17: Chapter Seventeen

Mechteld knows Marquita is close to breaking, but she reminds herself that the breaking point will also be the time when Marquita will be at her most desperate. She knows that she can keep Marquita quiet by force if needed, but she also believes that a more delicate approach will be preferable. Mechteld knows that she won’t be able to build Marquita back up if she does too much damage to her.

Mechteld figures that if Marquita wants better evidence, she can supply it. She turns to Marquita and says, “If you want proof I guess I can cut my wrists, but it might draw attention in the communal bathroom.” She then looks down at the spotted carpet and says, “Then again, would anyone really notice another stain on this carpet?”

Sarcastically Marquita suggests, “Perhaps you can jump off the Queensboro Bridge.”

Mechteld gives a small laugh and nods, “I could do that. I’d have to take you with me. I can’t have you running away while I’m in the water.”

“The only place I’m going is home.” Marquita answers, speaking into her knees.

They sit in silence listening to the afternoon rush of Astoria and watching the colors of the room change as the sun dips further behind buildings. Mechteld looks over at Marquita and sees a stream of blood starting to run from the fresh stitches and says, “Hold still, your bleeding again.”

Mechteld takes a tissue from her pocket and begins to wipe the blood. Marquita can once again feel the prickle from Mechteld’s touch and see gray static. As Mechteld puts pressure on the stitches Marquita plots her next maneuver.

Marquita asks, “You said a man came and changed you?”

“Yes, he first came when I was a girl, but he changed me when I became older.” Mechteld answers, the static once again pulsating.

In a calculating move Marquita then asks, “Were you taken from your family?”

“No.” She answers, her voice giving the faintest quiver. “My family was dead. There was no one to take me from.”

When she says this, Marquita can see a break in the static surrounding Mechteld. Marquita knows that if she pushes her mind forward she might get a glimpse at the thoughts Mechteld hides. Despite fearing what she’ll see, she moves forward and is hit with a force as powerful as a bolt of lightning.

Marquita’s mind floods with the image of flames upon flames and she knows that behind it are Mechteld memories. Marquita focuses her mind and she sees Mechteld with a beautiful face, unblemished by scars and her long golden hair covered by a white bonnet. She sees her sitting at a table in a dark room, lit by lanterns, with several men. The room looks like no room Marquita has ever been in. It’s furnishings and people look like they are from another time. Marquita can see that Mechteld’s face is nervous yet defiant as a man attaches a metal apparatus on her hands. The man says something to Mechteld in a language Marquita cannot understand. When Mechteld doesn’t respond he turns a knob her beautiful face contorts and screams in agony as thumbscrews are tightened. Quickly the memory changes and Mechteld is on her knees with her hands clasped in prayer with a rosary wrapped around her bruised and broken fingers. The memory fades away and now Marquita sees Mechteld with a rope tied around her arms and torso submerged in water. Then Marquita sees a weak and almost catatonic Mechteld being led to an empty stake. Mechteld’s face is now bruised with a long cut from under her nostril to the bottom of her chin. Her eyes are wide and terrified. She lifts her face to look up at a group of black birds in the sky flying over a castle tower where the shadowed outline of a man is standing.

Then the pain in Marquita’s head becomes more intense as the memory changes and now shows a cave with several rows of severed heads with beating hearts below them.” Mechteld pulls her hands away from Marquita. Her eyes are furious as she recoils from Marquita. She shouts, “Stop it!”

Mechteld gets up and leans her body against the frame of the window. For a brief moment, Mechteld face looks like she may cry, but it quickly changes into an angry grimace before she buries it in her arms.

Marquita feels like she has been submerged in ice water, yet her head and spine feel like they are on fire. All the muscles in her body clench and her nose begins to bleed. Unable to move, she shakes and cries. In her mind she continually repeats, “It’s true. It’s true.”

The images play over and over in Marquita’s mind. Now each scar on Mechteld’s face seems even more gruesome. As she recounts each torture she just witnessed, Marquita can feel every cut, bruise, and burn on her own skin. Her mind then races to the last memory she saw. The faces in the cave were moving and some were the same faces as the men from the room. A particular face haunts Marquita’s thoughts the most. She cannot get the image of the head, with his lips sewn shut, out her mind. Despite his mouth being tightly bound by string, his lips still tried to form words all while his eyes gave a wrathful glare. Marquita recognizes that he was the man who crushed Mechteld’s thumbs. She also realizes, this man haunts her most because it haunts Mechteld most.

Marquita wonders, “How is it possible to be alive without a body?” But she is quickly answered by the memory of Mechteld’s words,“…your heart will continue beating forever.”

Finally Marquita feels her muscles relax and she asks, “What is that? In the cave?”

Mechteld stands and walks away from Marquita and the window.  She goes to her bag and kneels beside it while taking a deep breath. She starts collecting items from the floor and packing them, placing the wooden box in the bag first. After a few minutes she then closes her eyes and breathes in deep again. She then stands up and she walks to the window beside Marquita and looks outside where the setting sun had turned the buildings and street orange. She keeps her eyes away from Marquita and instead watches the people below walking while casting long shadows on the street.

Finally she says, “I’m not an open person.” She pauses for several moments and then says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in contact with someone who has the ability to look into my mind. You may not know it, but that ability makes you extraordinary.” Mechteld and Marquita could now hear voices and footsteps outside the room, but both women stay still and quiet.

Mechteld continues, “I like my privacy and I like my isolation. It’s rare that I allow anyone near me.” She stops and then breathes deep. “But it’s my duty to train you. Before we go any further you need to know that my mind is forbidden. There are things that are hidden for a reason.” 

Mechteld sits back down and looks at Marquita. Her blue eyes now have a great intensity that scares Marquita. Unable to speak, Marquita stares back with her eyes wide and questioning.

Mechteld breaks the silence by saying, “You get three questions.”

Without hesitation Marquita asks, “What is that in the cave?”

Mechteld quickly responds with, “Not that question. Choose again.”

Marquita takes a few moments to think of another question and then asks, “What’s your real name? I’m guessing it’s not Nurse Lazarus.”

Mechteld nods and says, “You’d be right. It’s Mechteld.”

“How old are you?” Marquita then quickly asks.

“425.” Mechteld answers.

Marquita can think of many questions she wants to ask next. After a few seconds of consideration she asks, “You talked about learning control.” Marquita pauses, surprised at herself for choosing this question, “How is it possible?”

“It takes time. It takes a lot of practice. It will take a lot of dedication, patience, and endurance, but if you work hard you will be able to keep people out, too.” She pauses before adding, “And you can learn keep yourself out of others minds. I know you struggle with that.”        

            Mechteld leans over Marquita and picks up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the table. She takes one out, places it in her mouth and quickly lights it. She inhales deeply, sets the cigarette pack and lighter back on the table and looks down at Marquita.

“I think that’s three questions, no more for now.” Mechteld takes another drag from her cigarette and continues, “If I want you to know something about myself, I’ll tell you.”

            Mechteld starts to get up from the chair, but Marquita puts a hand on her knee to stop her. Mechteld is surprised by the contact; not many people willingly touched her.

“Wait, please.” Marquita’s voice shakes as she continues, “If this is true…If this is what I am now…I need to know….” Cautiously she asks, “What happened to you?”

Marquita gazes deeply into Mechteld’s face, taking in each scar that mars her face. Mechteld looks into Marquita’s hazel eyes and says, “We’re the same Marquita. We both inherited a curse.”

 

 

 

 

 

18: Chapter Eighteen

Marquita remains on the floor as Mechteld sits by the window with her cigarette slowly burning to its end. As they sit, the room becomes darker and darker. The street lamps flicker on and cast faint shadows into the room. Marquita doesn’t notice the change. Instead she focuses on what Mechteld has told her: “We’re the same Marquita. We both inherited a curse.” 

“So, the Morenos are cursed.” Marquita thinks and she wonders what Mechteld’s family did to incur God’s disgust. 

Mechteld watches the random pedestrians pass along the sidewalk. Despite the growing darkness she could still see the auras that surround them, but the distance between them and Mechteld protects their thoughts from her prying.

“I’d tell you to try and rest now, but you won’t be able to.”

Marquita is still trying to process everything she has learned. Overwhelmed she comments, “Who could after all of this?”

Mechteld slightly shakes her head. Correcting Marquita’s misconception she says, “No, I mean your body no longer needs sleep. You can’t even be knocked unconscious. The brain is always on.”

Unconvinced, Marquita points out, “But I was just asleep.”

 “It was your last time.”

Marquita wants to think it’s a lie, but she reluctantly reminds herself that everything else has been true. 

“How is it possible?”

Mechteld shrugs and says, “I don’t know. I’ve heard different ideas, but I don’t think anyone really knows.”

            Mechteld takes a last drag from her cigarette and then leans over Marquita to deposit the butt in the overflowing ashtray. She then sits back and explains, “Your body is different now. As I said, you can no longer sleep. You also don’t need to eat or drink. You still can if you want to, but it’s no longer necessary.”

 “Do you eat and drink?”

“Rarely.” Mechteld answers in a blunt voice. She then continues, “You need to know that your body will heal quickly from injuries and you’ll survive anything.”

“Any injury?” Marquita asks.

Mechteld nods and in knowing voice responds, “Yeah.”

Marquita looks at the scars that crisscross Mechteld’s body and she wonders about the traumas her body has experienced, besides the one’s Marqutia saw in her memories.

Cautiously, Marquita points to Mechteld’s various scars and asks, “Did you get those when you died?”

Mechteld lets out a long exhale and says, “I never died, just as you never died.” Marquita averts her eyes from Mechteld and shifts uncomfortably. Sensing Marquita’s awkwardness Mechteld rolls her eyes and explains, “I got most of these when I should have died. Some came afterwards.”

 “What if my hand is cut off?”

“I’ve had my arm blown right out of its socket,” Mechteld holds out her heavily scarred left arm and examines it. “But it healed.”

 “It grew back?” Marquita asks, her eyes wide as she stares at Mechteld outstretched arm.

“No, don’t be stupid.” Mechteld quickly snaps. She lets her arm fall again to her side.  Marquita looks away from Mechteld. She bows her head and pulls her knees close to her chest. Mechteld looks over to Marquita who tries to keep her eyes averted.

Mechteld’s softens her voice and explains, “I had my arm reattached and it healed.”

“What if you didn’t reattach it?” Marquita asks, her voice now quieter and more cautious.

Without mollifying the details Mechteld answers,“I’d have a bloody stump.”

Marquita looks at her own hands and imagine them replaced by wrists of blood, flesh and exposed bone. Repulsed, yet interested she asks, “Does that happen? Do people just have stumps?”

“Yes.”Mechteld answers. Marquita found it unnerving that Mechteld was so nonchalant about something so horrific.

 Marquita then asks, “What about being shot in the head?”

Mechteld gives a small shrug of her shoulders, “I guess it hurts and it’s an injury that requires a longer healing time, but you’ll survive and be the same.”

The images of the cave enter Marquita’s mind and she thinks about the blinking heads and heart pumping nonexistent blood. She thinks again about the face of the man who crushed Mechteld’s thumbs. These memories create the most questions for Marquita. She wants to know why they are they in the cave. Did Mechteld put them there? She also wants to know, can bodies survive being torn apart?

Timidly, with her voice faltering, Marquita asks, “And heads can live without bodies?”

Marquita knows that Mechteld is now thinking about the faces, too.  In a raspy whisper Mechteld replies, “Yes.”

Mechteld then listlessly adds, “You can be shot, stabbed, crushed, dismembered, or disemboweled. It’ll hurt, but you live. You can never drown or be suffocated. Your body cannot freeze and only your top layer of skin can burn. You’ll also never be sick again.”

This causes a spark of excitement in Marquita. Doctor appointments and emergency room visits had consumed Marquita’s short life. In her mind, Marquita questions, “I’ll never take a pill or have to do to another medical test?  My parents won’t have to pay another bill?” But with that thought Marquita’s excitement fades. She thinks, “The only bill they’re paying now is for my funeral.”

Marquita still didn’t know if the doctor completed her surgery.

“Will I still have seizures?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.” Mechteld says dismissively. “But I know the surgeon took out the tumor to be biopsied. It’s the only thing they have of you now.”

Marquita couldn’t help but imagine her mother crying over the tumor. Clinging to it as the last remains of her beloved daughter. Insisting on burying it. These thoughts disgust Marquita and she feels shame for thinking them, but notices that Mechteld’s face now has the smallest hint of amusement. 

19: Chapter Nineteen

A.N.- Dialog that is in italics is spoken in a foreign language.

 

For a moment the two women quietly sit as the room darkens until the ringing of the cell phone breaks the silence between them. The ring reminds Marquita that, despite everything she’s experienced, the world outside the room still exists. She wonders, “If I scream, would it matter?” She quickly decides against; figuring Mechteld would become physical again. Mechteld looks and the caller ID and quickly answers the phone.

“Yeah?” Mechteld casually answers.

“Having fun baby-sitting?” A woman’s voice asks.

Sounding surprised Mechteld asks, “How did you know?”

 “We read it in the newspaper. It has your name written all over it. You need to be more careful. You’re going to get arrested.”

“I had permission. Cornbury gave me a license.” Mechteld says, her voice friendly.

The woman gives an incredulous laugh and asks, “You’re kidding? For a sixteen year old?”

Mechteld gives a breezy hum and says, “Yeah, luckily my name still carries some weight. He was practically falling over himself to do me a favor.”

“God, I see why Mark hates that man.” The woman says disdainfully. She then changes her tone and says, “Mechteld, I called for a reason. Have you been watching the news lately?”

 “I’ve been busy with the kid. I haven’t been near a TV.”

 “Do you have a newspaper with you?”

Mechteld looks to the table and then says, “Yeah, hold on.” She gets up from her chair, walks past Marquita, and goes to the table. She takes the newspaper from the top of stack and asks, “What am I looking for?”

The voice answers, “Las Vegas. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Marquita sits under the window not understanding the conversation. In the time she’s been awake, Marquita realizes that this is the first time she has seen Mechteld both slightly distracted and acting pleasant.

Despite all she’s learned, the desire to go home is still strong in Maquita, but she reminds herself that if she stays she could finally learn control and possibly live a normal life. A normal life was the thing she prayed for each night. Marquita asks herself, “Shouldn’t you be happy? Isn’t this the future you wanted?” Marquita thinks about what the future means to her. Was it truly infinite now? Does that really mean it has to be a future without her family? Marquita feels as if she’d rather die then be without them, but ironically, that’s the one thing she cannot do.

Marquita feels almost paralyzed as she contemplates, “Should I stay of should I try to escape?“ After a moment she begins to slowly shift from her spot. She still doesn’t know what she should choose, but she figures she should at least see how close to the door she can get. On shaky legs, Marquita slowly stands as Mechteld listens to the voice on the phone.

Mechteld scans on headlines and quickly finds what she’s looking for. On the first page below the fold Mechteld reads, “Identity of Casino Robbery Suspect Shot by Police Still Unknown”.

“Who is she?” Mechteld quickly asks.

 “Her name’s Anita. She was shot on live television and they have her in police custody at a hospital. We need to extract her for trial.” There’s a pause in the conversation. Then the woman asks, “The job you just did at that hospital in Queens, how long did it take you to prepare?”

            “Months.”

 “Did you do it by yourself?”

“Yeah, for the most part.” Mechteld replies. She then asks, “Why are you doing it? Sounds like something Yazzie can handle.”

“The Vegas office is new. None of them have done an extraction,” the woman answers. Then, hesitantly the woman adds, “Also, Anita is one of mine. She was my first protégé. Mark pulled some strings and now we’re supervising their team. We want you to help.”

Mechteld waits a moment before speaking. After scanning a few sentences she asks, “What’s her motive? Why does she need that much money?”

After letting out a tired exhale of breath the woman answers, “I don’t know. She had some issues with addiction, but that was almost 80 years ago.”

Mechteld looks again at the article and then skeptically asks, “Six robberies for drug money?”

Now near the door, Marquita lightly presses her hand to the doorknob while keeping an eye on Mechteld. Without turning around Mechteld covers the receiver of the phone and says, “Make good choices Marquita.”

Mechteld turns her attention back to the phone and she hears the woman say, “Mechteld…. I think she’s going crazy. She had some mental issues when I first changed her, but I thought she was better.” The woman pauses before warily saying, “I think she’s trying to expose herself.”

Mechteld looks at the article again and then makes a side glace at Marquita now standing at the window.

 Mechteld ask, “You’re sure it’s her?”

“Yes.”

 “And are you sure she’s insane?”

“I guess we’ll know for sure when we extract her.” The woman gives out a stressful exhale and then with a slight plea in her voice says, “Mechteld, if we have to do, what I think we’ll have to do, I want you with me.”

Mechteld stands at the table biting her lip as she thinks. After a long pause she uneasily answers, “I got the kid with me. She needs to train.”

“I know you. I know you can make it work.”

Mechteld thinks a moment, gives a small sigh and she says, “I’ll call you in two hours and let you know.”

Quickly the voice says, “Okay, talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.” Mechteld responds.

Mechteld braces her hands on the table and leans into it. She hadn’t planned for an interruption. She knows that the extraction will probably be no problem for her, but she also knows that she needs to keep an eye on Marquita. Mechteld thinks, “I had a plan. Las Vegas is not part of the plan.” She looks again at the article and then responds, “But this is family.”

Marquita stands by the window watching the street; not sure what to do. Marquita keeps asking herself, “Why don’t you leave?”, but Mechteld’s warning is effective. She knows that she couldn’t outrun her and after seeing the memories of the cave she was genuinely afraid of what would happen if she were caught.

Mechteld sets down the phone and then turns to Marquita. She leans on the table and says, “Alright, we’re not going to Baltimore. We’re going to Las Vegas.”

Stunned, Marquita shouts, “What? No, I am not going to Las Vegas. I’m not leaving Queens.”

Mechteld takes a deep breath and cracks her knuckles against the table.

“I can do a lot of things right now. I can tie you up, put you in a big suitcase and take you with me to Vegas. I can tie you up, put you in a big suitcase and leave you in Baltimore. It could be days or weeks until I get back, but it doesn’t really matter because you’ll still be alive and waiting. Or I can make you this deal and I’m not a person who makes deals.” Mechteld’s voice wasn’t threatening; yet it scares Marquita. She then stands from the table and moves to the widow by Marquita. They now stand face to face. Mechteld is only slightly taller, but the power Marquita perceives from Mechteld makes her feels as if she’s a foot shorter.

Mechteld continues, “If you do this, if you come with me and behave, I will consider,” Mechteld then stops and empathizes,  “not promise, but consider letting you have some sort of contact with your parents.” Marquita opens her mouth to speak, but before she can Mechteld adds, “Very restricted and controlled contact.” Mecheld pauses a moment and then continues, “But you have to do what I say, when I say it. When it’s time to train, you will train. When it’s time to shut up, you will shut up.”

Marquita thinks about the offer and wants to know what could be in Las Vegas that is so important. She knows she doesn’t want to go, but she also believes that Mechteld will follow through with her threats. As she stands face to face with Mechteld, she can’t decide if this the best option for both seeing her parents again and controlling her ability. She still wasn’t sure if she should fully trust Mechteld. Reading her memories told her a lot, but it still left many questions unanswered.  Apprehensively she asks, “And if I say ‘no’?”

Without pausing Mechteld bluntly answers, “You get the suitcase. So what’s it going to be?” 

20: Chapter Twenty

Marquita thinks carefully about the offer while her finger graze the dusty windowpane. She wants to believe that she can have a future. She wants to know the feeling of control. She wants to not be afraid of Mechteld.

Finally she turns her eyes away from the windowpane and says, “You could be lying to me.”

Mechteld shrugs and says, “I could be, but I haven’t told you a lie yet.”

Marquita silently stares as she feels a uneasiness from deep inside her. Despite all she has seen; Mechteld is still a mystery to her.

“To do this for me is a favor. I don’t forget those who help me.”

            The photo of her parents catches Marquita’s eye. Marquita wants to say yes, but the fear of leaving Queens still bothers her.

“You can’t just ‘consider’ contact with my parents. You have to promise me. I can’t do this without them. I need them to know that I’m okay and that I love them.”

Mechteld shakes her head, “They can’t know what you are.”

“Why? If they knew they would understand. I’m sure of it.” Tears once again line Marquita’s eyes as she begins to wheeze.

Mechteld turns away from Marquita’s crying and begins stacking the newspapers, setting aside the one with the picture of Marquita’s parents. Calmly she says, “You didn’t believe me until you violated my thoughts. How do you expect your parents to understand?”

            Marquita stands still as she continues to gasps. She knows Mechteld is right, but a burning in her chest keeps her from answering.

“I need an answer Marquita. Are you coming to Las Vegas?”

Marquita keeps her eyes averted from Mechteld as she asks, “Can I see my parents?”

Mechteld looks at Marquita who keeps her crying eyes. After a long pause Mechteld breathes out and says, “I’ll arrange something, but only after we come back from Las Vegas.”

            Marquita looks up from the floor with wide surprised eyes. She watches Mechteld and holds her breath.

“But I think it’s a bad idea to see them, Marquita.”

Mechteld takes the remaining paper and looks at the side-by-side photos. She then removes the page from the rest of the paper and begins to fold and tear the photos out.

“Why?” Marquita asks, cautiously.

“It’s better to be done with it. The last moments will linger for an eternity. You’d be surprised at how disappointing goodbyes can be if you try to do it over.”

Mechteld hands the pictures to Marquita. She stares at her parent, wishing she could see their auras in the photograph.

“You said your family was dead. Who did you have to say good bye to?”

“Just take the advice Marquita and help me pack.”

21: Chapter Twenty-One

 

Mechteld and Marquita work in silence as they gather papers, fold clothing and pack the large rucksack. After a few minutes Marquita asks, “Why are we going to Las Vegas?”

 

“Someone I know needs help.” Mechteld flatly answers as she sorts trash out of the pile.

 

“Who are you helping?”

 

“Her name is Margreet and she’s one of my protégés. She’s discovered that one of her protégés has….” Mechteld pauses while she tries to find the correct word, “…..compromised herself.”

 

“Compromised?”

 

Mechteld pauses again, unsure how to proceed. “Margreet believes that this person is trying to expose her immortality. It happens from time to time. When it does, they have to be captured and put on trial.”

 

“Trial? Like for criminals?”

 

Trying to sound casual Mechteld answers, “As I said Marquita, there are millions like us and we have a government and laws, just like the mortal world. For them, the worst crime someone like us can commit is exposing what we are.”

 

Marquita raises her eyebrows and begins to open her mouth, but before her question can be asked Mechteld quickly interrupts with, “How are your legs feeling?”

 

“Weak.”

 

Mechteld gestures around the room. “Walking will help. Do a few paces, I don’t want to take the chair. ”

 

Slowly Marquita balances her weight and begins to take small strides with outstretch arms.

 

“Does it happen often? Immortals exposing themselves?”

 

“Sometimes, but aftermaths are usually carefully controlled. But this incident happened on television. Luckily mortals don’t realize what they’ve witnessed.” Mechteld takes the paper from the top of the stack and gestures to the Las Vegas article.

 

            Marquita brings the paper closer, “Then it’s not too big of a problem?”

 

            “No, it’s definitely a big problem and I have to help prevent it from becoming an even bigger problem.”

 

            “Why you?”Marquita asks as she returns the paper to the pile.

 

            “You may not believe it now, but the mentor-protégé relationship is very significant. If she needs help, I feel compelled to help her the best I can.”

 

            “Have you done this to a lot of people?”

 

            “You’re certainly not the first.” Mechteld’s answers while taking another cigarette out of its pack.

 

“How are we getting to Las Vegas? Are we flying?”

 

“No, we have to avoid transportation that involves over scrutiny of our identities. After all, you’ve been dead for a few days now.” Mechteld picks up her now bulging bag and turns it to access its pockets. “I don’t have a social security number, passport, or driver’s license other than the one’s I’ve stolen.”

 

“You steal people’s identities?” Marquita asks, taken aback.

 

Mechteld shrugs her shoulders. “It didn’t used to be like that, but now it’s necessary.”  

 

Mechteld pulls a small vinyl wallet out of side pocket of her rucksack bag and pulls out a license. “Come here, let’s see if this one works out.”

 

Mechteld holds the ID up to Marquita’s face. Its former owner was a 19-year-old Edison, New Jersey woman named Jasmine Thomas. Her face was fuller than Marquita’s and eyes much darker. But their skin was the same smooth unblemished toffee.

 

“It’s the best I could do on short notice. I hope you’ll pass for nineteen.”

 

Marquita takes the license and examines the picture. “She doesn’t really look like me.”

 

“Yeah I know. I’ll get you a better one when we return. In the meantime, you need to wear these.”

 

Mechteld hands Marquita the hijab and sunglasses from the hospital. Marquita holds them out and raises a scrutinizing eyebrow.

 

Mechteld points to Marquita’s scar. “Little girls with head wounds attract attention.”

 

            Marquita pulls the scarf over her head and tries to wrap it, but each attempt results in limp fabric hanging loosely around her head. Mechteld takes the scarf away from Marquita and folds it before quickly draping it over her head, pinching the fabric beneath her chin and securing it behind her neck.

 

“Doesn’t this “government” of yours have IDs?” Marquita asks as she feels her new accessory.

 

“Yeah, but stolen IDs provide a layer of anonymity. Sometimes I don’t like people knowing who I am and where I’m going.” Mechteld points to Marquita’s new license. “It’s vital you memorize the information on that ID. You’ll get caught by not knowing who you’re supposed to be.”

 

            Mechteld quickly takes the ID from Marquita fingers and asks, “What’s your name?”

 

Marquita searches her memory and confidently answers, “Jasmine Thomas.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

Marquita pauses as she tries to remember.

 

“Study.” Mechteld says as she pushes the license back while reaching for the bottle of antiseptic and bloody rag.

 

“Lesson one Marquita, memorize everything. IDs, maps, faces, languages, accents, phone numbers, geography, it’s all important. Believe me, not knowing what the capital of New Jersey is when holding a New Jersey driver’s license is suspicious.”

 

“It’s Trenton, right?” Marquita says, as she looks closer at the license.

 

Mechteld kneels over the bloody spot left from Marquita’s head and opens he bottle of antiseptic. “Lesson two: Never draw attention to yourself. Keep your head down and don’t talk to anyone.”

           

            She stares at the blood for a moment before emptying the bottle on the spot and quickly dabbing with the rag. Without looking at Marquita she cautions, “Lesson three: Don’t piss me off.”

 

            Mechteld cleans the spot until it blends with the other faded brown spots on the floor. As Marquita watches Mechteld place all the bloody rags and tissues into a bag and set it aside.

 

“So how are we getting to Las Vegas? Are we driving? Do you have a car?” Marquita asks.

 

“No, we’re taking the bus. We’ll go to the Port Authority as soon as we finish packing.”

 

Marquita feels a flutter begin in her stomach. Nervously she asks, “A bus to Las Vegas? That’ll take days.”

 

“It’ll take two and a half days.”

 

Silence falls between the two women as Marquita’s brow stiffens and she begins to feel a tightness in her chest. In a low voice she confesses, “I don’t like being in crowded places. The voices give me terrible headaches.” 

 

Mechteld dumps her mountain of cigarette butts into the trashcan, causing a small billow of ash to erupt. Unconcerned with Marquita’s complaint Mechteld says, “It has to be the bus. It’ll be a good place to practice.”

 

Before the cigarette ash settles, Mechteld turns and kneels beside the bed. She reaches underneath and feels around before pulling out an old and battered sword the size of her forearm.

 

Marquita eyes the sword with a raised eyebrow. “Family heirloom?”

 

“Holy relic.” Mechteld answers as she examines the sword from handle to tip.

 

 She then quickly wraps it in a worn t-shirt, adds it to the rucksack and closes it. Mechteld again reaches under the bed and begins to pull, this time removing a large black suitcase. She pushes it towards Marquita and says, “Here, you can carry this.”

 

Marquita stands the large suitcase upright and tests its weight. She lifts it easily off the ground several times before saying, “It’s empty.”

 

Mechteld hoists her heavy bag on her back and then lifts her hood over her hair.

 

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” 

22: Chapter Twenty-Two

At the Port Authority thousands of travelers stream in and out of the terminal as buses board and depart with passengers. Despite being early, the air is muggy and hangs heavy in the busy station. At the end of a line of passengers Mechteld and Marquita wait. Mechteld is again over dressed for the hot weather. Long sleeves cover her scarred arms and a ball cap and sunglasses hide her composed face. Marquita clothes are looser and more comfortable than Mechteld’s, but the mix of anxiety and humidity causes sweat to steam out from under her hijab and trail down her face.

To Marquita, the air of the Port Authority is a moist toxic mix of sweat and exhaust fumes. Each breath brings her a disgusting wave of dizziness and nausea, which makes her body sways and her hands and knees shake. As more and more passengers enter the terminal Marquita mind becomes increasingly more agitated. The thoughts of thousands of travelers begin to pour into her mind unfiltered, adding to her discomfort. Marquita looks to her side and sees Mechteld standing still, seemingly unbothered by the presence of so many people.

Doubtful thoughts begin to enter Marquita’s mind. Deep down she knows that if she gets on the bus with Mechteld she will be saying good-bye to the only life she’s known. Leaving New York meant Corona and her parents will be gone and if she were now immortal, they would become a distant memory to her. The thought makes her heart ache and eyes water. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to leave her old life and she certainly wasn’t ready to begin a new one with a stranger.

“If you’re going to escape this, now is the time. This is the place. If you get on that bus it will only become harder.” Marquita thinks.

But, she knows that Mechteld won’t willingly let her leave. She had only seen a small fragment of her mind, but the glimpse she had was violent. And she can’t deny the desire to possess what Mechteld has. The power to be in control. The ability to not be powerless against herself.

“If I only had more time. I need more time to think. I still don’t really know who Mechteld is or why this is happening.”

As more people join the lines, her mind becomes more disoriented. She struggles to focus on her own thoughts as she hears the inner dialogues of those around her. The one thought that comes through is how can she stop Mechteld from taking her away? Mechteld didn’t seem like the type of person who was scared of anything. Marquita watches the woman beside, who seems relaxed, but notices that behind her sunglasses she is watching every person and action around her. Marquita looks at the long sleeves of the thin hoodie that hides her disfigured skin.

“Lesson two: never draw attention to yourself. She doesn’t like to be seen. Is that what she fears?” Marquita wonders.

She then asks herself, “Why don’t you scream? Draw attention to yourself. If you scream you can go home.” She tries to force herself to breath deep and find the courage to run, cry out or even look at someone but instead feels powerless. To her, it feels like a dream and she’s trying to run from a monster on paralyzed legs. She begs herself, “Don’t do this. Don’t allow her to take you.”

Finally Marquita sobs out loud to Mechteld, “I can’t do this.”

Mechteld leans in and whispers in a voice both forceful and encouraging, “You can do this, just take a deep breath.”

            Marquita tries to breath deep, but is only met with resistance from her own body. Her eyes water more as she feels pain start to spread through her chest.  Marquita chokes on her words as she says, “I can’t breath. Please, I’m going to die if I do this.”

Mechteld looks ahead as she keeps her expression neutral. Out of the side of her mouth she assures Marquita,“You won’t die, you don’t even have to breath.”

Marquita holds her breath, desperate to find relief, but the feeling is unnatural to her. As she strains to keep her lungs full she feels her heart give one painful beat after another.

“You don’t understand what this feels like.”

Mechteld nudges her forward and harshly says, “Believe me, I understand.”

As they get closer to the front of the line Mechteld wipes Marquita’s sweaty tearstained face with her sleeve.

“Come on, look normal for a few seconds.”

Marquita can sense Mechteld becoming taut as they approach the front of the line. Her body is still, but her eyes quickly dart from the driver taking tickets, to the bus and then back to Marquita. When they reach the front of the line Mechteld places the large black suitcase to the side by the cargo hole of the bus. She gives the driver a soft smile while keeping her eyes down as she hands him the tickets. The driver holds the tickets as he takes in the two mismatched passengers. Marquita feels a tension in the pause. She begins to shake again, but Mechteld remains calm and still.

Pointing to Marquita, the driver asks, “Is she going to be okay?”

Marquita’s mind screams, “Do it! Do it now! This will be over!”, but her throat seizes and only a small gasps escapes.

Mechteld nods as she looks up at the windows of the bus, never meeting the driver’s eyes. “Yeah, just a nervous traveler.”

 

The driver’s gaze now lingers on Marquita, whose toffee skin was now gray and jaw tightly clenched.  Her face was once again wet from sweat beading on her forehead and lip. As he examines Marquita, Mechteld watches the driver. Marquita tries to focus on him too. She wants to discern his thoughts from the numerous voices now screaming in her head, but she can only read the aura surrounding him. She knows his an honest man and empathetic, but suspicious.

Trying to meet Mechteld’s eyes, he hands the tickets stubs back and says, “Take the seats by the restroom, just in case.”

Mechteld keeps her eyes averted, nods again and says thank you as she pushes Marquita forward. As they step on to the bus Mechteld grabs the back of Marquita’s shirt and quickly tells her, “Keep your head down. Use your eyes and ears.”

At the front the aisle Marquita watches the busy riders of the crowded bus. The passengers are mostly older couples going on vacation with a smattering of lone tourists and drifters. Marquita stands frozen as her mind screams, “No. No, No.” She stands until feels a prodding from Mechteld. Slowly she starts to move, holding her arms close to her while dodging elbows and bags. Behind her she can feel Mechteld’s overstuffed rucksack poking her back and moving her forward. Marquita keeps her eyes and the furthest two seats, never looking at the numerous passengers around her.

            The close proximity to the others causes a pressure to build in her chest. Each step forward creates stronger compressions that strangles her lungs. The thoughts from those around her swirl into an incomprehensible clamor of, “When...?”, “What…?”, and “Did I…?” which battle her thoughts of, “What are you doing? Just turn around!”

Halfway down the aisle she begins to hyperventilate, taking in loud shallow breath. A few fellow passengers turn to look at the wheezing girl. 

Keeping her head down Mechteld hisses through gritted teeth, “Remember lesson two? Don’t attract attention to yourself.”

Panting, she answers, “I told you I don’t like crowds. There are too many people on this bus. They’re all shouting inside my mind.”

Mechteld pushes Marquita past peering eyes. “Travel makes people anxious. They’re all thinking about the long journey.”

In a small exasperated shout Marquita retorts, “Yeah, I know. I hear them all!”

“Keep your voice down!”

Finally the two women reach the back of the bus. Marquita turns to Mechteld with tears streaming down her face and pleads, “Don’t make me do this. I can’t take two days and a half days of this.”

Mechteld lightly guides Marquita to the window seat and softly assures her, “It’ll calm soon.”

Marquita clasps her hands in front of her, knowing this is her last chance. With wide frantic eyes she begs, “Please, I want to go. Take me somewhere else. I’ll go to Baltimore.”

Mechteld sits next to Marquita. She stares back into the girl’s scared eyes and tells her, “Breath deep. Don’t resist it, accept it.”

Unsure if Mechteld is referring to her impending panic attack or her thoughts of escape she asks in a painful gulp, “What?”

Mechteld leans into Marquita and in a low voice commands, “Listen to me. This is part of your training. Stop resisting. The more you resist the worse it will get.”

Marquita shakes her head as she grows paler and paler. She keeps her lips tightly sealed, trying again to hold her breath. More forcefully Mechteld orders, “Stop trying to run away. Breath deep. Let this come to you.”

Marquita lets go of her breath and looks to Mechteld. “It’s already here.”

Mechteld keeps her eyes connected with Marquita’s. “Tell me what you feel.”

“I feel like someone is squeezing my heart. I can’t focus my vision. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Marquita bends forward, putting her head in her lap. She wraps her trembling hands around her head trying to find relief. Tightly she closes her eyes as her muscles tense and contort her body.

“Breath deep. You’ll going to feel bad, but it will pass. Don’t resist. Accept. Accepting it is the first step to controlling it.” Mechteld leans forward and whispers, “This will end Marquita.”

Softly Mechteld reaches out her scarred hands and places them on Marquita’s wrist. Suddenly Marquita’s vision is filled with bright light and her erratic gasping ceases. The feel of hot humid air envelops Marquita and her vision is filled with a vibrant green. A thick jungle of trees, vines and moss now surrounds her. Above her is a canopy of branches and leaves that only allows the brightest rays of light to shine through. Her ears are filled with the songs of birds unfamiliar to her along with hoots, clicks and calls of hidden animals.  A white-faced monkey catches her attention as it walks along a low hanging limb. Around her she can hear the sound of ocean waves and taste the salt in the air. Marquita can feel an emotion coursing through her; a feeling of intense happiness that, to her, could only be described as euphoria.

She watches the monkey leap from it branch and land near a ripe fig. As it grasps the fruit with its tiny fingers its long black tail coils around the branch for support. To her side she could hear someone calling, “Mechteld, look at this.”

Before she can turn to the voice, the trees, humidity and euphoria fade until only the beat of the ocean remains. Softly, over the din of the bus Mechteld whispers, “Listen to the sound. Count the waves.”

One by one she counts the tides splashing as a hypnotizing concentration overcomes her. Gradually, the sound of her fellow travelers dissipates until finally the ocean is the only thing she can hear. As the beat continues, the grip on Marquita’s heart loosens and her breaths become deep and regular as a sedate sensation overtakes her.

Mechteld removes her hands and Marquita opens her eyes. The voices return and Marquita finds herself sitting up on a now moving bus, merging into traffic. She feels a warm trickle from under her nose, but before she can raise her hand Mechteld givess her a tissue while saying, “Here. Your nose is bleeding.”

As Marquita presses the tissue to her nose she asks, “How did you know it would pass?”

She shrugs and impassively answers, “It always does.”

Marquita sits for a moment listening to the conversations and inner thoughts of the others. She no longer feels an intense anxiety, but her head continues to ache from the thoughts around her. She rubs her temples and she continues to hold the tissue as she leans her head against the seat in front of her. She turns her head away from Mechteld and looks out the window of the bus and feels disappointed. She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. She didn’t do anything.

Disheartened, she complains, “I still hear them. They’re still loud.”

“This is only the first step. Overcoming the anticipation of fear is the beginning. After fully experiencing the attack you can know what to expect and then control it.” Mechteld answers, ignoring Marquita’s displeasure.

             “That was the most intense it’s ever felt.”

Marquita lowers the now red tissue and checks her nostrils for blood. Mechteld holds out her hand for the tissue.

“This is only a bus ride. Believe me you’ll have worse to come.” She crumples the tissue and buries it in her pocket. “You’re more powerful now. The power will grow as time goes by. That’s why you need to learn control now. You don’t need to make my mistakes.”

“What mistakes do you make?”

“Let’s just say there are a lot of mistakes to be made. When you’re young and untrained you’re basically a child, more so in your case I guess.” Mechteld adds, gesturing to Marquita who begins to scowl. “You don’t know the rules and it’s easy to get into trouble. Plus, there are more than a few liars out there. Even when you’re psychic it’s sometimes difficult to know the truth. You can give your trust to the wrong people or allow yourself to be fooled.”

            The two women sit silently as the bus enters a tunnel. Marquita watches Mechteld as she sits completely still, her unshaking hands lightly resting on her lap. She keeps her eyes looking forward as she scans each of the seats ahead of them. Two empty rows separated them from an elderly Chinese couple reading newspapers. Despite the scene Marquita made while boarding, no one seemed concerned with the two women in the back.

“How did you learn all of this? How to calm down?” Marquita asks, breaking the silence.

“It was taught to me a long time ago.” Mechteld answers, still staring ahead.

“By the person who changed you?”

Mechteld lightly shakes her and answers, “No. It took me over 100 years to find someone who could help me.”

“The person who changed you didn’t teach you?”

Mechteld gives a small pause before replying, “He didn’t stick around. When I woke up I was alone. A few hours later he found me and told me to go to a city called Viborg, but he never came for me.”

            Marquita searches her mind trying to remember what Mechteld told her only hours ago. Cautiously she inquires, “But you said that he showed you things and said you could become great if he changed you. Why would he tell you that and then leave?”

Marquita watches Mechteld fingers twitch slightly. She keeps her eyes averted as she answers, “I guess you’d have to ask him.”

            The doubtful thoughts enter Marquita’s mind again. She thinks, “She warns you about liars, but she’s the liar. Her story is false. Why would someone come to her as a child and change her as an adult? Why would wait years just to leave? Why would he let her burn? .....Mechteld herself said it’s difficult to know the truth, even for psychics.” Her thoughts race more, “Had anything been true? The jungle and the sound of the ocean felt real, but how can I know for sure? Were the thoughts in Mechteld’s mind merely illusions? Could it have been a scene she created to sooth the panic attack?”

Marquita then asks Mechteld, “That place…. the jungle and ocean. Is it a memory of yours?”

“Yes. Sometimes I go back to it when I need to feel calm.“ Mechteld fingers begin to twitch again, which she relieves by cracking the knuckles of her right hand.

Marquita thinks back to the feeling she experienced. For her, the feeling was one of the most intense pleasures she experienced in her life. She thinks hard trying to recapture the sensation: the freedom from anxiety, the weightlessness in her chest, and the uncomplicated bliss. She longs to experience it for just a second more, but now finds it elusive, like trying to remember a dream.  Marquita turns to Mechteld who sits stoically.

“The feeling I experienced…it was…beyond happiness.”

“It is a happy memory, but” Mechtled hesitates before carefully finishing, “…some things aren’t real.”

The answer troubles Marquita. Was Mechteld admitting to lying? Why try to fool her? Why was she working so hard take her? Why was she important?

 

 

 

23: Chapter Twenty-Three

 

 

Marquita watches Mechteld whose eyes wander from passenger to passenger.

 

“I know she’s hiding something. There has to be more to this.”

 

Marquita wonders if she is reading minds or just ignoring her. She too begins to watch the other occupants, trying to explore their minds, but is only met with blur of incomprehensible chatter.

 

In a soft voice Marquita finally breaks Mechteld’s concentration by asking, “What can I do?”

 

Mechteld blinks a few times as she unconsciously cracks a knuckle, “What do you mean?”

 

Slightly hesitant, Marquita elaborates, “Now that I’m like you, what can I do?”

 

 

Mechteld lightly shrugs before answering, “You’re doing it right now. You’re living”

 

Timidly, Marquita inquires further, her voice becoming quieter with each word. “No, I mean… you know… powers.”

 

            Mechteld’s body goes completely still. Slowly she turns her face to Marquita. Her eyebrows crinkle together into a knot on her forehead as her lips pucker into a sneer that gives her numerous scars grisly embossments.

 

            “Powers?” She gruffly asks, “Please do not be referring to super hero powers.”

 

Marquita’s cheeks grow warm as she nervously stammers, “Well, no, but-“

 

Mechteld quickly cuts off Marquita’s answer, “You’re the same person, only immortal.”

 

There’s only a short pause before Marquita interrupts again by whispering.

 

 “Do I need to…suck blood or eat people to continue living?”

 

Mechteld looks at Marquita with mocking astonishment. The knot on her forehead is now smooth as her brows straighten and her eyes become wide. Her mouth hangs open before answering, “Dear God Marquita, no. You are not a ghoul or a vampire.”

 

            Marquita speaks quickly, explaining, “Well, I don’t know. I’m still trying to understand what’s happened to me.”

 

Mechteld shakes her head and questions, “What on Earth would make you assume that?”

 

In a small voice, Marquita answers, “You have heads-”

 

But before she can finish her sentence Mechteld digs her fingers into the armrest and cast her an intense icy stare.

 

In a quiet, yet forceful voice Mechteld says, “You’re a sixteen-year-old girl and you’ll always be a sixteen-year-old girl.”

 

Mechteld turns her eyes to the front of the bus again. Marquita leans away from her and brings her knees up to her chest. It hadn’t dawn on Marquita that not only would her body never change, but also it would never grow again. Her small frame would never be able to reach the admirable height of her mother’s. Her arms would never reach the top self, she would spend an eternity balancing on her toes, and her hips would never show where her torso ended and legs began.

 

In a mournful tone she asks, “I’ll always be sixteen?”

 

“Physically.” Mechteld answers, but she notices the Marquita’s downcast expression.

 

“What’s wrong with that?” Mechteld asks, “Most women would kill for the chance.“

 

Marquita looks down to her body, which is easily scrunched into the small seat. Underneath her skirt, her legs feel like skinny twigs. Her knees easily pressed against her collarbone, unhindered by fat or strain.

 

“I’ll never look like a woman.”

 

Mechteld scoffs, “You look like a woman to me.”

 

Marquita leans back and now examine her chest.

 

“I’ll never have breasts.”

 

Mechteld cringes in her seat. She pulls her ball cap over her eyes and lets out a long sigh.

 

“Uhh...Are you kidding me?” Mechteld leans her head back in exasperation before saying; “I’m going to need you to not say anything for at least three hours.”

 

“I’m sorry, when the doctor told me I had five years left the first thing I thought was I’ll never become a woman. Now I get to live, but I have to be la enana forever.”

 

Mechteld lifts her hand, silencing Marquita. “Three hours, nothing for three hours.”

 

Mechteld reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and pulls a mp3 player with tangled headphones. She raises her hat again and delicately she begins tug at the headphone wires.

 

Noticing the device Marquita asks, “Wait, do I get a mp3 player?”

 

Mechteld continues her unraveling, never looking at Marquita. “Do you have one on you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I guess not.” Mechteld flatly answers.

 

Marquita shifts uncomfortably.

 

“But I want to listen to music, too.”

 

Unconcerned, Mechteld answers, “That’s nice, but this one is mine.”

 

Marquita pulls at the cloth of her hijab as looks at traffic slowly passing by the bus. She gives a frustrated sigh, “There’s nothing to do.”

 

Mechteld clenches her jaw as the knot on her forehead returns.

 

“Look out the window.”

 

“We’re on the turnpike. That’s not interesting.”

 

“God damn, just be quiet.”

 

            Mechteld untangles the rest of her headphone wires and places a bud in her ear, but before placing the second Marquita asks, “Did you bring anything to eat?”

 

Mechteld closes her eyes as she makes a fist around the ear bud.

 

She struggles to keep her voice calm as she says, “You don’t need to eat anymore. I went over this.”

 

“Well, I can nibble, can’t I?”

 

            Mechteld closes her eyes and breathes deep, “All I have are cigarettes.”

 

Slowly, Mechteld unclenches her fist and raises the second ear bud to her ear.

 

“That’s not very healthy. Cigarettes give you cancer.”

 

Mechteld breathes deep before forcing the second bud in her ear. “I’ve been smoking since America was a colony.”

 

“I can’t even sleep. I’m going to be bored.”

 

“You need to manage your boredom. You have an eternity ahead of you and most days aren’t very exciting.”

 

“There isn’t anything to do.”

 

Mechteld reaches down to a side pocket on her bag, pulling out a deck of cards.

 

“Play solitaire, make a house of cards, or stare out the window. I don’t care. Just be quiet.”

 

Taking the cards Marquita begins to whine, “But, I don’t know how to play-“

 

Again Mechteld raises and hand and silences Marquita, “Lesson number three Marquita, you seriously need to shut up now.”

24: Chapter Twenty-Four

In front of Marquita her tray table is pulled down with playing cards spread out in a disorganized display in front of her. In the first hour of mandatory silence she tried to occupy herself with the simple games she knew, but eventually gave up after they failed to entertain her. The second hour she would take turns organizing the cards into suites and watching the other passengers. In the third hour she stared out the window as she tried to block out the minds of the other passengers in order to give time to her own increasingly anxious thoughts.

 

Now Marquita is facing forward as her hand tightly clutches the armrest. Her body becomes tenser while her mind dances quickly as she begins to question:

 

“I know she’s not being honest, but what can I do?”

 

“How dangerous is she? She has heads in a cave.”

 

“Is that thought real or is she trying to scare me?

 

“What would she do if I scream on this bus? Would these people be hurt or just me?”

 

“If I get away, where will I go? She knows my home. She knows my family. She knows where I’ll go.”

 

            “What are mama and dad doing now? Are they looking for my body or planning my funeral?”

 

“If only someone knew I was alive…. That I was here.”

 

She scans the features of each person, trying to identify someone familiar. She stares at the back of each head, hoping one will look back and recognize who she is.

 

An older Chinese woman turns and momentarily locks eyes with her. Marquita can see a flutter in her aura and wonders, “Could she have felt me?” She looks at the woman again and she tries to focus, willing herself to block out the other thoughts and noise. The cacophony of voices fills her ears becoming louder and more incoherent until she is finally interrupted by Mechteld straightening in her seat and announcing, “Okay, let’s practice.”

 

She looks to Marquita and asks, “Man with the white hair, what’s his name?”

 

Marquita looks back to the woman, but sees she has turned back and her aura has returned to its previous state. She looks ahead to the man Mechteld has singled out. Eight rows ahead she sees an old man with white hair peeking out from under a Mets cap. She doesn’t attempt to read his mind, but instead responds, “What? I can’t separate his thoughts from everyone else’s.”

 

In a lecturing voice Mechteld says, “Lesson one, Marquita. You didn’t have to read his mind to know his name. His luggage has a tag. What name was on the tag?”

 

Marquita gives a small-bemused laugh, “I don’t know. I wasn’t looking.”

 

There’s a short pause between the two women before Mechteld asks, “Did you not listen to anything I said? I told you to use your eyes and ears.”

 

Marquita defensively responds, “I was on the verge of a panic attack.”

 

“That’s no excuse.” She coolly answers.

 

Marquita raises her voice, attracting side-glances.

 

 “That’s no excuse? That’s a perfect excuse!”

 

Mechteld pauses as she watches passengers, waiting for them to face forward again. She continues in a low voice, “I gave you three important lessons for being my protégé and so far you’ve failed all three.”

 

Sinking into her seat, Marquita closes her eyes and breathes out.

 

“I didn’t ask to be your protégé.”

 

“That’s right, you didn’t,” Mechteld answers, “but that doesn’t excuse you from not doing it.”

 

            Mechteld can feel her temper rising. She pops her neck and then reaches for the cards on Marquita’s tray table.

 

She composes herself before asking, “Do you know how to play gin rummy?”

 

Marquita doesn’t open her eyes. Instead she replies, “Isn’t that a game for old ladies?”

 

Mechteld gives a small pause at Marquita comment, but continues nonplussed, “It’s a good memory exercise and it requires a lot of strategy.”

 

Mechteld quickly deals ten cards to herself and Marquita before leaving the rest in a stack on the tray table in front of her. She then explains the rules of the games and tests Marquita’s knowledge several times before beginning. The game is slow at first with Mechteld always winning, but Marquita gradually improves with each round.

 

A calm begins to develop between the two ladies as the game progresses. Each hand eliminates a small fraction of the animosity and hostility of the past day. Neither one speaks except for the occasional, “knock” and counting of points.

 

While keeping her eyes on her cards, Mechteld breaks the concentration of the game by saying, “You know, I didn’t ask to be immortal either. Many of us don’t.”

 

Marquita looks up from her cards, but sees that Mechteld is not meeting her gaze.

 

“Why did you do it? Why change me?”

 

“Because you’re special,” Mechteld explains, still never looking up.

 

Marquita gives her a dismissive huff and says, “A lot of people are special.”

 

Mechteld takes a deep breath, puts down her cards, and looks at Marquita. Struggling to remain patient she says, “Not like you. I’ve been around for a while; there are not a lot of people like us. There are several people with mild psychic ability, but what we do is different.”

 

Marquita lays her cards down with a hard slap on the tray, “So? That might make me special but does it make me important?”

 

“You can be, if you let yourself,” raising her voice slightly.

 

Marquita rolls her eyes, “God, you sound like my school’s guidance counselor.”

 

But Marquita knows that she is special. She has never met anyone who could do what she can do.

 

“How many? How many people are there like us?” She asks, trying not to sound too curious.

 

Mechteld picks up the empty card box, places the discarded cards inside, and closes it. She holds it in her hands in front of her as she begins to speak.

 

“I’ve met quite a few basic mind readers. They can read the surface of a person’s thoughts, but they can’t probe deeper. They can’t access memories unless the person is thinking of it. They can’t see auras.”

           

            Her scarred fingers lightly glide across the surface of the battered box.

 

“Then there’s us, powerful psychics. You’re either born with it or not. No amount of practice can make a basic mind reader into a powerful psychic. Believe me, I’ve tried. There are only a few hundred of us and we vary in skill and power. I’m sure you’ve noticed that it can run in families.”

 

Mechteld opens the box and lays the cards in fan across the tray face up.

 

“With our ability we can enter a mind, probe memories and thoughts and feel the emotions of an individual.”

 

Her index finger roams along the deck, pulling cards before dragging them into a prominent display above the rest.

 

“Most psychics need to train in order to control and enhance their skills. Lifetimes are dedicated to becoming stronger at searching a mind and better at filtering out the constant swirling thoughts around us. A few of us learn to shield ourselves from other psychics. It’s a difficult, but in my opinion a beneficial defense to master. In my experience, only the strongest psychics have been able to break that barrier.”

 

Mechteld pauses and then turns to Marquita. Her blue eyes take on a deep and serious quality again as she speaks in a sobering voice.

 

“But, that’s what you did yesterday. You were able to breach my defenses and enter my mind. I had to train to become what I am. I spent decades of intense practice refining my abilities and building my defenses, but you entered my thoughts, my memories, with little effort. It should be impossible. An attempt to crack my mind should have crippled you. That’s why you’re very special and extremely important.“

 

Marquita didn’t know how to respond. She remembers that being in Mechteld’s mind was the most painful experience of her life, but taking the step in wasn’t difficult. For her, she saw an entry and decided to move forward. The resistance wasn’t great; all she needed was a touch.

 

Marquita curiously asks, “Has anyone entered your mind before?”

 

Softly she answers, “When I was weaker.”

 

“How many?”

 

“Altogether? Only four, including you.” Mechteld lifts a hand and begins to count on each finger, “The person who made me immortal, the person who taught me how to control and refine my abilities, and the person who is the most powerful and sadistic immortal ever created.”

 

Mechteld pauses as she remembers. An uneasy expression envelops her face. Her voice becomes pensive as she continues, “He could read my mind without a touch. Despite how hard I tried to hide my thoughts, he found memories I thought I had escaped. He knew how to manipulate me. He used me.”  

 

            She looks at Marquita, with a now serious look in her eyes.

 

“Practice is important. You don’t want to be taken advantage of.”

 

Mechteld replaces the discard pile, picks up her cards and continues the previously abandoned game with a, “that’s gin“. Marquita recognizes that the memory was painful for Mechteld, possibly even scary. Marquita wonders, “What could be scary to Mechteld? She’s been burned alive and keeps heads in a cave. What could be scarier than that?”

 

They don’t play long before Mechteld interrupts again. 

 

“I didn’t even know I was truly immortal until 1625. As I said my creator had left me. There was no one to teach me about what I was. I didn’t know if I had only come back to life and I could die again. I could still bleed, but no amount of blood loss could make me pass out. I tried poisoning myself: nightshade, hemlock, arsenic, but nothing worked. On the way to Viborg I fell off a footpath and went over the edge of a ravine. I broke bones and the pain was horrendous, but I never died. I felt indestructible, but I still wasn’t sure.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

Mechteld contemplates how to continue. Cautiously she starts, “I was executed or at least an execution was attempted.” She pauses as she remembers. “For hours I swung on a branch of a tree as villagers waited. By dawn the next day they cut me down. I tried to play dead, but my body was warm and when they cut my veins I bled.”

 

Marquita’s eyes become wide as she asks, “Executed? For what?”

 

“Murder...”Mechteld answers forthrightly before continuing, “…and for being a witch.”

 

Trying not to lift her voice Marquita demands, “Murder? Why?”

 

Her voice becomes flat as she explains, “Because I murdered a young man. His name was Gottfried Bäcker.”

 

The stoic tone of Mechteld’s reminiscence is unnerving to Marquita, yet she wants to know more. She wants to know what Mechteld is capable of. 

 

“Why did you kill him?”

 

Mechteld stares at the back the seat in front of her. She keeps her voice calm.

 

“I wanted to make him immortal. When I found him he was very sick, almost near death. This boy was like us; he had our ability. I thought that it was a sign. That he was meant to be immortal. I didn’t want to wait for him to naturally expire, so I smothered him. His village found me with the body and hung me for being a witch.”

 

“Did he become immortal?”

 

“No…” A small crack of emotion now colors her answer. “….he died. It didn’t work on him or maybe I did it wrong. I’ll never know.”

 

Marquita waits to absorb the full impact of Mechteld’s confession before asking, “What did they do when they knew you weren’t dead?”

 

“They couldn’t let a witch go free. At first they didn’t know what to do with me. I had survived the hanging and my scars showed that I had survived the stake. They decided to wrap me in chains. After a week they took me out into the forest and every man in the village followed. After two days of walking we came to a small cave. They anchored me to the ground and then the men took every boulder, rock and stone they could find and laid them on me until I was barricaded in. Every week for a year, someone from the village came to see if I had left.”

 

As the full reality of Mechteld’s past imprisonment settles in her mind, Marquita says, “They kept you there a year?”

 

“They stopped checking after a year.”

 

“How long were you there?”

 

“I didn’t know it at the time, but I was in the cave for about 19 years.”

 

“And then they let you go free?”

 

“No,” Mechteld shakes her head. “I think the village had forgotten about me.”

 

“How did you get out?”

 

Slowly, she answers, “I could have left whenever I wanted to.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

“I deserved to be there.” Mechteld states bluntly.

 

            Mechteld is silent as she stares at her cards. After a moment she finally lies them down again and continues.

 

“When I came out of the cave I learn what year it was and I saw I had not physically changed. I then knew that it was real. This was forever. Nothing could break it.”

 

            She stares at the scars on her hands for a moment. Light shines off her jade ring as she lingers again on her memories.

 

“I wandered for a few years after that and I eventually ended up in England. There I met a man named John Felton. He was also a psychic. His ability wasn’t particularly powerful. He was just a basic mind reader. John was an army officer who had read the mind of a superior and realized he’d been passed over for a promotion. Of course he wanted his revenge and he was willing to do anything for it. He didn’t want to die, but he knew what he was planning was a suicide mission. The man he was targeting was extremely powerful and well protected. I figured, why not help him? He could get his revenge, not have to die and I would have another person like me. I followed him to Portsmouth, but things didn't go as planned. He got his revenge. He stabbed the man through the heart. John had figured he would be executed on the spot, but instead he became a national hero. I didn’t know it at the time, but he killed England’s most hated man.”

 

            The speed of the bus began to slow. Marquita looks out the window and sees the bus is exiting from the highway. Mechteld collects the cards and stacks them neatly before placing them in the box.

 

“That’s why lesson one is important. I couldn’t understand the minds of those around me. At the time my English was poor and I hadn’t mastered focusing my ability. If I’d known how’d positively people would react I wouldn’t have been a part of it. A few months later he was eventually executed for the murder, but I was long gone by that time and suffering for my mistake.”

 

“Confused, Marquita asks, “I don’t understand. How was it a mistake?”

 

“I knew Felton had planned to die that night, so I figured there would be no better time to change him. But the process only works if you are near death.  Felton didn’t die that night, so the process couldn't work on him.”

 

“So it was a missed opportunity?”

 

“No, it was a miscalculation. There’s a liquid that has to consume to make the process work. I put it in your IV before the surgery. For Felton I put it in his drink, but another person besides Felton drank from his cup.”

 

Marquita realizes she’s become engrossed by the story. Fascinated, she asks, “Who else drank from it?”

 

“England’s most hated man.”  

25: Chapter Twenty-Five

            The bus slows and come to a stop at a station next to a convenience store.

 

The driver stands and announces in a loud voice, “Philadelphia. We have forty minutes.”

 

The two women watch the others stand and stretch as they gather their purses and wallets before disembarking. As the others near the front Mechteld says, “Everyone will get off to have lunch.”

 

“Will we?” Marquita asks.

 

“We won’t be eating.”

 

Mechteld reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and takes out a pack of cigarettes and lighter.

 

“Come on, I need a cigarette.”

 

            Marquita’s legs shake as she stands. The hours of sitting made her already weak legs stiffer. She wavers as she walks down the narrow aisle. When she gets to the top of the steps she firmly grips the rail as she feels Mechteld bracing her small frame by the shoulders. Together the carefully walk down the stairs. The driver waits for them at the bottom. Marquita locks eyes with him as he says, “Feeling better I see.” 

 

His aura changes to a shade Marquita has always associated with suspicion. With the other passengers away his thoughts come out clear.

 

            “These two are weird. How do they even know each other?”

 

Marquita pauses to look at the driver and read more from him, but is interrupted by Mechteld pushing her forward towards the curb.

 

Once out of earshot, Mechteld says, “He’ll switch out at Pittsburgh. He’s thinking about saying something to the next driver about us.”

 

“Will he?” She asks. The thought is optimistic to her.

 

“Maybe, he doesn’t know what to say besides ‘They’re weird’.”

 

Together they sit on a curb, their legs stretched out over hot asphalt. From under her baseball cap, a bead of sweat runs down Mechteld’s forehead before becoming lost in the scars crisscrossing her face. Marquita scratches her head as the stiches start to burn as the sweat collects under the hijab.

 

Mechteld pulls out her pack of cigarettes and quickly lights up as Marquita desperately fans air under her skirt. She looks at Mechteld’s long sleeves and says, “We stand out with all these clothes on.”

 

“We’ll stand out worse without them.”

 

Marquita thinks, “Should I try to stand out? Is being noticed the key to getting home?”

 

Marquita looks across the street to the convenience store where the other passengers were buying their lunches. It feels odd to Marquita that she isn’t hungry. She knows she hasn’t eaten in days, yet the absence of hunger pangs is discomforting.

 

Turning to Mechteld she asks, “Do you really never eat?”

 

“Only on rare occasions. Some immortals keep up the ritual, but it seems redundant to me.”

 

Marquita thinks about an existence without food. For her, it seems to alien and unnatural to live without it. In Corona, life revolved around faith, family and food. She suspects she won’t have any of those things while with Mechteld.

 

Marquita thoughts go to the last dinner she had with her parents. After their prayers, their meal suffered from several strained silences. It was the first dinner they had together in months, but despite his chronic absences, her father had made an attempt to be there and make her happy by making her favorite food. The memory stings Marquita’s consciousness as she thinks about it. Even with the silence and confusing feelings, the memory is precious to her.

 

Thinking about her last meal Marquita says, “I could never give up my favorite food-”

 

“Tostones.” They say at the same time.

 

Mechteld nods, “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Surely you have a favorite food?” Marquita asks.

 

Mechteld takes a long drag from her cigarette and lets it out slowly, “You’re looking at it.”

 

            Mechteld rubs the butt of her now spent cigarette on the ground before taking another from the pack. Quickly she lights it and sets her pack and lighter back down.

 

Marquita asks, “Did you read from my mind that I loved tostones?“

 

Mechteld shakes her head as she breathes deep before letting out a cloud of smoke, “No, I learned that from your father.”

 

Marquita again wonders about her parents. Had her father gone back to work after only a few days of losing his daughter? Did they tell their family in the DR what happened? Had they planned a funeral? Or were they looking for her?

 

Marquita thinks back to the picture of her father in the paper. She knows he was hurting. His tired eyes etched in the newsprint showed a level of emotion she hasn’t seen in years. It was a reminder that despite everything, she meant something to him.

 

“He always made tostones when he came back from a long trip. He would pretend he was making them for himself, but he’d always make me the most.” She says out loud.

 

She thinks again to the awkward silences at dinner and at the hospital and about his casual wave as he walked away from her hospital room. 

 

“He could never say it.” She says as she keeps remembering his hand waving back at her. “He always had to be so hard.”

 

“It wasn’t his fault.” Mechteld offers. “He expressed himself in the way he knew how.”

 

“I’d trade all the tostones in the world for one real moment with him.”

 

Marquita hangs her head and thinks to herself, “Not even in the end could he do that.”

 

“At least you knew.” Mechteld keeps her eyes on pavement. “He’ll regret actions for the rest of his life.”

 

Marquita turns to Mechteld with her eyebrows slightly lifted.

 

“Or at least until I see him again.” She adds.

 

“If.” Mechteld corrects. “We’re only in Pennsylvania. You still have a long way to go.”

 

The thought enters Marquita’s mind, “Why wait and follow her rules? I can end this now.” But it’s quickly extinguished with memories of heads scars, fire, and her father’s unconcerned wave.

 

“Before he became scared of me he wasn’t afraid to hold my hand. Whenever we’d walk around our neighborhood he’d hold my hand and say, “Stay close, New York is the most dangerous place in the world”, but when we would visit Santo Domingo he’d hold my hand tighter and tell me, “Stay close, Santo Domingo is the most dangerous place in the world”.”

 

            Marquita grins slightly as she remembers, but her hazel eyes hold sadness.

 

“I used love Sundays because my dad didn’t work. After church, just the two of us would walk to the bodega hand in hand and he’d buy two chocolate milks: one for me, one for him.”

 

“When I started to know things I shouldn’t, he treated me different. His grip on my hand became looser until one day he let go. After that he started to push me away and eventually he got his job so he could run away from me.”

 

“It wasn’t you he was running from. It was himself.”

 

“Yeah, but when you’re ten it doesn’t make a difference.”

 

From the bus the hear the driver shout, “Five minutes!”

 

Marquita looks down at the small pile of cigarettes next to Mechteld. She realizes she has been unaware of how long she has been talking. For her, she finally had a chance to tell someone the feelings she kept to herself and despite the circumstances she feels there is so much more she wants to say.

 

Mechteld stands and shakes stray ash from her clothes.

 

“Come on, let’s go. Use your eyes and ears this time.”

 

26: Chapter Twenty-Six

As Marquita step onto the bus the buzz of voices surround her again, but this time they are muffled by the repeating memory of her father not turning around. In her mind a constant refrain of her father’s agitated steps accompanied by a breezy wave plays again and again as she walks down the bus aisle.

 

Marquita and Mechteld take their seats in the back. Mechteld scans the passengers as Marquita’s eyes are drawn to the Chinese woman. She stares for a moment hoping to once again see a change in her aura before her thoughts go again to her father. As the bus drives away she thinks back to the origin of her family’s dysfunction.

 

Marquita turns to Mechteld and asks, “You said we both inherited a curse?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Marquita feels a pressure growing in her belly as her mind searches for a long hidden memory.

 

“My grandfather was like me. He could hear thoughts. I never met him, but my father knew what he could do.”

 

            Marquita stops herself from proceeding with the story.  She had always stopped herself from revealing what she knew.

 

“My grandfather and his brothers did something bad. It happened before I was born, before my father was born. Everyone says we’re cursed because of what they did.”

 

For years, the story has lived only in her mind. It was a story she has never told anyone. A story that no one knows she knew.

 

            “My grandfather and his brothers were in the army. They were sent to a coffee plantation and they…”

 

As Marquita trails off Mechteld interrupts by saying, “You don’t have to say it.”

 

Ignoring Mechteld, Marquita continues as fixates on the heinous images in her mind, “I saw it in my great-uncle Rodrigo‘s mind….the horrible things they did….”

 

Mechteld interjects again, “I know what they did. You don’t have to say it.”

 

For years, knowledge of the story has been eating away at Marquita, but finally she feels it’s now her chance to admit her secret stigma.

 

“Since then, my family has suffered from so many tragedies. God hates us. The Bible says it, The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression….”

 

Marquita struggles to remember the verse, but Mechteld effortlessly finishes it by reciting, “….but he will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and the fourth generation.”

 

“Yes….” Marquita hoarsely adds, the word caught in her throat. Tears begin to line her eyes as her mind fills with her darkest memory.

 

“My father thought I had the Moreno curse. Six years ago he took me to the plantation in Cibao where the curse began. They found a Haitian priest to do an exorcism. They made me drink this strange liquid and it made me sick and hallucinate. But, the exorcism didn’t work. It didn’t change me. It only made me tell the truth. I had learned so many secrets and they all came out.”

 

Mecteld grips the seat as she stares forward. She knows the story in Marquita head. She knows how long she’s carried the shame. Marquita breathes deep as her anxiety rises up to her chest.

 

“I told my father’s secret. I told what he did when he was young. After that…after he knew that I knew… he stopped being my father. Since I was seven I have known what my father had done. He thinks about Juan Acosta so much. I knew his secret, but I decided to still love him. But, when he learned what I could do he ran away. I was something to be feared instead of loved.”

 

            Marquita’s eye begins to burn as tears run down her face. She tries to hide her face from Mechteld and quickly wipes her face. She can feel the anxiety spreading in her body as her joints stiffen. Marquita takes a labor gulp of air and then feels the familiar stab of panic.

 

            “Oh god, not again.” She thinks as she tries to hide her developing symptoms. She closes her eyes, but her mind is met with a flood of memories from the coffee plantation. Relentless images attack her thoughts as she sees flashes of the unrepentant look on her grandfather’s then young face as he holds a machete meld seamlessly the Haitians priest’s prayers and her screams of “Juan Acosta”. Marquita feels herself beginning to break as her body reflexively curls into itself. She puts her head between her knees and struggles to breath. Desperately she tries to fill her lungs, but is only met with her body’s refusal.

 

Marquita feels a burning pain shoot through her clenched arm and opens her eyes to realize that it’s Mechteld’s hand. Once again she hears the beat of an ocean, but her vision is clear. She listens as her muscles gradually loosen and her chest expands once more.  Marquita’s feels her body sitting upright again. She turns her face and finds Mechteld staring her with eyes that have developed into a stormy blue ringed with the slightest hint of wetness.  Her forehead is once again knotted in the middle, but not from anger or annoyance. This time, Marquita sees that Mechteld’s face is weighed by trepidation. Mechteld waits for Marquita’s breath to steady before she speaks.

 

“My family did something horrible too. It also happened long before I was born.” Marquita sees static grow in her vision before Mechteld lifts her hand away from her. Marquita knows Mechteld is protecting her thoughts from potential prying.  She keeps her eyes on Marquita and says, “My family destroyed a city in the name of God.” 

27: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Marquita leans back into her seat and reflects on the older woman’s admission. Both their families had destroyed lives. Both their families have angered God. Both of them were cursed.

 

Marquita wonders if Mechteld had seen her memories. She wonders if she relived each swing of the machete like she did. If she could smell the blood and dirt grinding beneath bare feet, like she could. She wants to know if Mechteld can see the frantic look in their eyes?  She wants to know if she is not the only one cursed to remember someone else’s atrocities?  

 

“Look around the bus, what do you see?”

 

Confused, Marquita answers, “People?”

 

Mechteld turns to Marquita, “Tell me about them.”

 

Marquita understands what Mechteld wants her to do. She looks at the other passengers and begins reading their auras. To her, most auras look calm while some are slightly agitated. Quickly she glances at the Chinese woman, but sees her aura is no different from the other mellowed passengers.  She listens close and can hear fragments of dull thoughts over the constant buzz of voices.

 

She looks to Mechteld and says, “Most are calm, just settling in for this leg of the trip.”

 

Mechteld stares forward at a passenger. Marquita didn’t need to look to know who it was. 

 

“What’s the old man’s name?”

 

Marquita confidently answers, “R.W. Caine, he lives in Midwood.”

 

Nodding, Mechteld says, “Good. What does R.W. stand for?”

 

Marquita pauses and searches her memory for any clues, but finally answers, “His tag doesn’t say that.”

 

“I know. I don’t want you to read his tag.”

 

She hesitates before saying, “If I could touch him I could know.”

 

Marquita expects Mechtelds face to be stern, but is surprised to see a somewhat placid expression.

 

“I want you to do it from here. I want you to filter out the rest and only listen to him. He’s about to fall asleep so it’ll be easy.”

 

Marquita shakes her head, “I don’t know how.”

 

“Lean back.” Mechteld sits up straight and gestures for Marquita to follow. She then takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Feel your breath.”

 

“What?” Marquita asks.

 

Mechteld quickly snaps, “Shut up, I’m trying to focus you.” She returns to her calm tone as she continues, “Take a deep breath.” She breaths deep again as she closes her eyes and lets it out. “Feel it go through your sinuses, feel that slight chill, feel it travel down your throat, feel it expand your chest out and fill your body.”

 

            Marquita follows her example, but is unsure what to expect.

 

Mechteld continues, “Now hold it. Don’t let it out.”

 

            Marquita breathes deep and fills her lungs.

 

“Now, feel your heart beat. Count each beat until you get to 60 and then start again. Don’t focus on the voices around you. Think about how each beat from your heart takes your blood through you veins from you fingertips to your feet and then to your brain.”

 

            It seems ridiculous to Marquita. How is this supposed to help her read another’s mind? She digs her nails into the seat trying to fight the urge to exhale. Her heart begins to pump hard in her chest. Feeling uncertain, she begins to count, “One, two, three, four…” She imagines the highways of veins that crisscross her body and how each painful thump constantly races her blood further and further before it rushes back. She visualizes it flowing into her eyes, fingers, liver and brain.

 

“Look at Mr. Caine. Focus on him. Look at the shades of gray in his hair. Look at where is hat is worn from use. Look at the moles and veins of his neck, the lines in his wrinkles, and the protruding of his ears. Memorize him. Know the details that even he doesn’t know. Focus only on him. It takes energy and a lot of concentration. You can’t think about yourself, or the other people around you. Only him. Once you are solely focused on him then you can start to reach in.” 

 

Marquita lets go of her breath and interrupts, “But-“

 

Mechteld jaw quickly stiffens, “I told you to hold your breath.”

 

“But, I don’t think I can get to that point. I can’t block out the voices.”

 

Mechteld grits her teeth and says, “Yes, you can. You just have to focus. You can’t give up after five minutes, or an hour, or even a day. This takes practice and patience. It’s slow. It doesn’t happen all at once.”

 

Mechteld breathes again and leans back. “Once you’re in it’s like reaching into a bag and looking for an object. You know what it feels like, its weight, its shape, its texture…You just have to feel around until you grasp it.” She looks over to Marquita. “Now, hold you breath, count your heartbeats and concentrate.”

 

Marquita again takes a deep breath on holds it, expanding her chest to its limits. She then counts her heartbeats one after the other until her eyes begin to water and she instinctively gasps for air.

 

Before she can give up, Mechteld chimes in with, “Your body doesn't need to breath anymore, fight it.”

 

Marquita waits a moment and then breathes deep again and counts. Slowly pain in her chest fades. She looks forward at the old man and starts to examine his features. She sees his dark gray hair flecked with silver. She guesses it must have been black and thick in his youth. Her eyes move to his skin, which is a mix of pink and tan with three dark, almost black moles surrounded by at least a dozen lighter freckles. With each of his deep breaths the moles and freckles ripple on his loose wrinkly skin, which exposes deep lines and trenches. Mr. Caine’s breaths become even as he drifts off to sleep. The expanding and contracting of his body becomes hypnotic to Marquita. She can feel herself being pulled close to him as each of his breaths brings her further in.

 

She suddenly feels herself surrounded by cool cloudy water. She frantically kicks until she breaks the surface and is then hit by sunlight. Young tan hands wipe water from her eyes.

 

She hears herself say, “Come in! It’s great!” in an unfamiliar voice.

           

            She looks up to see a small brunette woman in an old fashion swimsuit sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of a dock. The woman shakes her head with a smile and lifts her feet away from the water.

 

“Come on now, don’t make me beg.”

 

She looks down into the rippling water and sees that she’s not Marquita. She sees a handsome man with dark hair. She realizes she’s in Mr. Caine’s dream. She’s on the surface of his thoughts.

 

He swims towards the woman, keeping his head above water and eyes on her thin ankles. She tries to push away from the edge, but before she can a wet hand grabs her left foot and pulls.  

 

She laughs as she screams, “Robert, no!”

 

Marquita thinks, “Robert. That’s his name.” She tells herself she now only needed to reach further for the rest. She can be finished in minutes and breath again.

 

She kicks beneath water and feels herself diving into a darkness. She repeats to herself, “Robert, Robert, Robert.”

 

She feels a force pulling her to what she desires. She knows she’s no longer in a dream. She knows she’s reached his memories.  

 

Marquita feels a warmth envelope her. She smells the air and knows that New York is near. Her face is hot and wet and her breath comes in wheezing gasps as the warmth pulls her closer. She opens her eyes and sees a woman holding her.

 

Marquita chokes on her breath as she struggles to whisper, “Mama.”

 

Marquita feels the woman’s hands cup her cheeks. The woman looks into her eyes and says, “It’s okay Rob. Just breath. Don’t worry.”

 

            The woman begins to stroke the short hair on Marquita’s head. She buries her face in the woman’s chest and realizes she feels so small in her arms. The woman rests her head on top on Marquita’s and holds her tighter. She can feel the love and deep concern in her embrace. It reminds her of her mother’s last embrace. 

 

Softly the woman says, “You’re strong. You’re my boy. You’re my Robert Wilhelm.”

 

            She sinks more and more into the woman as a pressure in her chests alleviates. Cold air finally rushes deep into her lungs, which lets her cry out.          

 

A soothing voice assures her, “You can do this Rob. In and out.”

 

            Suddenly the warmth surrounding her begins to fade. She looks up and no longer sees Mr. Caine’s mother. Instead she met with a darkness that’s pulling her hard and fast. Marquita tries to kick and thrash against the force, but finds that her limbs are stiff and rigid.

 

Then a stinging brightness besieges her as she inhales a choking gulp of air. She closes her watering eyes and says, “His name is Robert Wilhelm Caine.”

 

Her vision focuses, yet she still sees darkness. She blinks a few more times and realizes that she is wearing sunglasses. She takes off the glasses and sees that the sun low in the sky. Mechteld notices her and answers her unasked question.

 

“It’s almost six, you’ve been concentrating for five hours.”

 

Stunned, Marquita lightly shakes her head. “Five hours? No, that can’t be.”

 

“It’s true, you went catatonic. I put those sun glasses on you to make it look like you were sleeping.”

 

Marquita keeps shaking her head in disbelief.

 

“Five hours to learn a name? I can’t be doing this right.”

 

“No, you did well.” Mechteld says, sounding pleased. “You stuck with it. Most beginners lose stamina around the third hour. In time it’ll get easier and quicker until it’s no effort at all.”

 

Marquita tries to process what she just accomplished, but finds that she cannot. In fact, she cannot grasp onto a single thought. She sits with her legs stretch wide and her arms hanging limp at her sides. Her head rests awkwardly on her shoulder as thoughts continue to swirl uncontrollably. After several minutes she comprehends that she is still on the bus and it’s no longer moving.

 

“Where are we?” Marquita softly asks.

 

“Pittsburgh. They’ll change drivers and rest here for a bit. I’m going to monitor our driver and see if he mentions anything. I trust you to stay put. I’ll know if you don’t.”

 

Marquita stares forward.

 

“I don’t think I can move.”

 

Mechteld stands from her seat and steps over Marquita. “Good. I’ll be back. Don’t talk to anyone.”

 

Marquita watches her walk down the aisle and off the bus. She sits unable to move, but despite being exhausted she gives herself a small smile.

 

“I did it.” She thinks.

 

She entered his mind without physical contact and blocked out the voices from around her. She finally took some control over her abilities. The thought brings a light feeling to her chest.   

 

Instantly she feels like she wants to try again. She looks around at her potential subjects and her eyes rest on the Chinese woman. She takes a deep breath, but before she can begin counting her heartbeats she sees Mechteld climb the steps of the bus. She quickly exhales and looks down at her shoes before Mechteld again climbs over her stretched legs.

 

“We’re fine. Nothing was said.”

 

            Mechteld takes her seat and Marquita hears a rustling coming from her direction. She rolls her head to its side to see a small plastic bag between them. Mechteld pulls out a plastic bottle and sets it in front of Marquita.

 

“Here, you’ve earned it.”

 

Marquita looks down at her tray table and finds a small chocolate milk.