Sarah Cortez - Houston Noir

“And this all started happening after your husband left?”

“Sí, señora. Where is he? He would know what to do. I can’t afford to move out of here alone.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did your husband leave?”

“Pues, la verdad es que... there’s a lot of reasons. He had problems with drinking and he didn’t like this place because it’s so small, and we started to argue a lot. What made him leave was that I told him my boss, un güero, kissed me and asked me to have sex with him. I said no, of course, but he made me promise not to tell his wife. Yo no digo nada a ella. I don’t want any trouble, me entiendes?”

Ah, I see. She’s powerless at work.

“My husband told me to quit, but I said that we just moved here. The schools are good in this neighborhood and mis hijas deserve that. It reached a point where, when he got drunk, he would keep bringing it up. He said if I wasn’t going to quit or let him confront my boss, it would hurt him as a husband and man. I said no, qué no, and, well, se fue.”

Shit. It goes beyond the workplace. The source is her boss, but the chain continues at home. “I see. Bueno, whatever is making you see these visions could be something strong at work. I will investigate. Your husband may be involved. You don’t know if he’s come back? Like while you are at work?”

“I wouldn’t know. Mis hijas stay with a neighbor until I get home from work at six en la noche.”

He can come and go as he pleases. “Okay, I’m going inside.”

Xitlali enters the trailer. She turns on the light and it gives a yellow tint to everything in the room. The trailer is small: a kitchen area with a sink, table, and hot plates; living room area with a love seat, shag rug, and HD television; and the bedroom area where futons and blankets are spread across the floor, disheveled from sleep. Xitlali sees that all the pictures on the walls are warped and worn, and all the crosses look loose, ready to fall. The good thing about this case is there isn’t much to inspect . She’s tempted by the tortillas on the counter and the soft blankets on the floor. All the day’s fatigue spreads through her muscles and bones like a possession. She has the urge to sit down, just for five minutes. Get it together, floja! Porfa, ayúdame Dios.

In the bedroom area, Xitlali feels a presence — a strong energy pushing against her. The energy travels up her arm, into her head, as though someone put a wet cloth on her brain. Not good at all. I can see how they get visions. To someone not ready for this, it’ll cause some bad shit. I have to find the source. Xitlali looks under the futons and on the walls to see if there’s any point of connection for a spirit or a conduit of evil energy. Right there! On a wall next to the futons, there is a hanging black-velvet blanket with a snow tiger majestically standing at the top of a mountain. Xitlali notices a bulge near the bottom, where the blanket meets the floor. She lifts the blanket and sees an egg.

The egg is white and seems to be breathing, the shell straining and relaxing, almost seeming to emit a wheezing sound. Xitlali taps on it, and a muffled sound resonates. She grabs the egg and its shell seems to stiffen, as if it doesn’t like being touched. It feels less like a shell than a layer of warm skin. What the hell is this thing? Xitlali picks at the shell. The white peels off and the egg begins bleeding. The egg’s energy surges through her body. Fuck! She feels it release more energy. She can’t fight it...

I can see someone, off in the white distance. It’s my daughter! I see her as she is now. She’s so gorgeous. Her brown hair is long, reaching down to her lower back. She’s aging like me, Dios mio. I don’t miss her father’s nose. She’s wearing nice jeans and a green sweater. Ay, she’s always wearing the wrong thing! It’s summer! Ay, mija, why do you always wear a sweater in the summer? Pues, I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s here! Mi vida, she’s here! She seems to be talking to people. I’m going to walk up to her and surprise her. Mija! It’s me! Tu mamá, la unica qué tienes, mi vida! Dígame! Tell me everything. Oh, how I’ve missed you. Digame todo. Qué pasa? What are you doing now? Where do you work? Where do you live? Are you seeing anyone? You’re not married, are you? And your studies? Hey, por que... why are you looking at me like that? That’s no way to look at your only mother. Twelve years and this is how we start? No me mires asi. Mija, where are you going? Where have you been? Please, mija. Don’t go. If I reach out to you, will you hold me? I’m trying to hug you, mija, but you only go farther away. Please stop looking at me like that. Please stop going away. I can’t take it. No seas cruel, mija. I can’t see your face. I can’t. I can’t—

Someone bangs at the trailer door. Xitlali opens her eyes and finds herself lying on the floor, on the blankets.

“Señora Zaragoza! Is everything okay?”

“Yes!” How long was I out? Holy shit, that was strong. Xitlali sits up and rubs the tears from her face. She sees the egg lying where she dropped it, on the blanket next to her. Whoever did this really wanted this family gone.

She takes a pair of tweezers from her bag and uses them to remove the tiny doll from the vial on her necklace. She places the doll on top of the egg, says a bendición, and gives the doll time to absorb the egg’s energy. Then she burns sage near the doll and egg. The smoke surrounds the egg but doesn’t touch it, pushed away by dark energy. Xitlali waits a bit, then uses the tweezers to pick up the doll and hold it near the burning sage. Like the egg, the doll repels the smoke. The energy transfer was a success.

She puts the doll back into the vial. She puts the egg in a black pouch with sage, rosemary, and hierba santa. She blesses both, egg and doll.

As Xitlali steps out of the trailer, she thinks about advising Señora Ruiz to leave. But she knows that if the woman could do so, she would’ve already. There’s no use telling her the obvious. There’s only so much we can come to terms with. Así es...

Instead, she says, “Someone cursed an egg and placed it near your beds, Señora Ruiz. It was a strong curse, done by someone either inexperienced or evil. Your daughter must have slept too close to it tonight, causing her nightmares. I got rid of it, but someone put it there. I don’t want to say it’s your husband, but that’s the only person I can think of. He may have paid someone to place the curse. I don’t know. What I’m saying is, it’s gone for now, but he might do it again. You need to talk to him and tell him he’s hurting your daughters.”

“Thank you, Señora Zaragoza. Gracias, gracias, gracias,” Petra cries.

“Claro, señora. Bueno, let’s all get in a circle.” The family gathers and Xitlali has them clasp hands. Do they know any of this? Is it better for the little ones to not know? Perhaps if you don’t believe in these things, they have less power over you. Maybe it’s best if my kind die out. Ay, mija... maybe you were right.

Xitlali recites the prayer: “ May God bless this house, la Virgen ayúdanos, porfa, forever and always, con safos, safos, safos.” She tells Señora Ruiz how to purify the trailer with sage, hierba santa, and rosemary, every day, for as long as they have to live there.

Señora Ruiz signs the standard form for purification services and pays the bill in cash. “Gracias, gracias, curandera. If it weren’t so late, I’d invite you in for café.”

“’Sta bien. Take care of your hijas. Their fear only provides more dark energy for evil spirits. Love them. Dales todo.”