unnaturally inspired, and other times it seemed natural but out of all proportion.
The night she had that awful dream Emma wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water and found Lisa by the sink, killing roaches and painting pictures with their innards around the edges of the drain.
“Lisa!” Emma had shouted, all bleary and confused, “What are you doing, child?”
When Lisa saw her mother she looked ashamed.
“Just killing bugs, Mama, that’s all,” she said, and her voice sounded guilty and repentant even if her words tried to make out like it wasn’t something heinous and disgusting she’d been doing.
“Why would you do such a thing, child?”
And Lisa had looked up at her mother like she was about to cry. “I just get so mad, is all,” she’d said. “Sometimes I get so angry I don’t know what to do.”
And all that night after Emma went back to bed she lay awake wondering which was real, the demoniac thing that drew her daughter to hurt those bugs, or the little girl who did such things even though they shamed her.
She never knew for certain.
The next day Mama Estrella and her sisters came looking for Lisa while Emma was away at work. She knocked three times, demanding to be let into the apartment, and when there was no answer she used her master key to open the door.
Lisa heard her, and she hid in the back corner of the closet, terrified of the chanting women and their incense. They looked and looked all through the apartment, but Lisa lay still as stone down in the dirty laundry, and they never found her.
When Emma came home she found Lisa still hiding terrified in her closet. Emma asked the girl what she was doing hiding there, and when Lisa told her Emma hit the roof.
She got on the phone and gave that Santeria Lady a piece of her mind.
But Mama Estrella didn’t hear a word of it.
“Emma,” Mama Estrella said, “your baby could die forever.”
Emma took the phone into the living room and closed the door as much as she could without damaging the cord. When she responded her voice was even angrier than she meant it to be. “You stay away from Lisa, Mama Estrella Perez. My Lisa’s just fine, she’s going to be okay, and I don’t want you going near her. Do you understand me?”
Mama sighed. “When you make a zombie,” she said, “when you make a real one from someone dead, I mean, you can make it move. You can even make it understand enough to do what you say. But still the body rots away. It doesn’t matter usually. When a zombie is gone it’s gone. What’s the harm? But your Lisa is inside that zombie. When the flesh rots away she’ll be trapped in the bones. And we won’t ever get her out.”
Emma felt all cold inside. She’d seen the rot; she knew what was happening to her little girl. But there was a truth in her heart, a knowledge and certainty that rose above all argument and justification. She reached into her heart and trusted what she found, and when she answered the Santeria Lady her voice was a crucible of rage. “Don’t you say things like that about my Lisa, Mama Estrella,” she said. “My Lisa’s alive, and I won’t have you speaking evil of her.” She opened the door and slammed the phone into its cradle before Mama Estrella could say another word.
Marlin, Texas
November 1948
Blind Willie finally left his open grave an hour after midnight. For a few moments he considered heading to the northern outskirts of town, to find his mourning wife and comfort her, but when he thought on that long enough he knew that she could never take him in her arms again, because the death that separated them was a final thing no matter how he came back to the earth.
Later he reconsidered this, and went home to look for her, but he never should have done it. It happened just the way he’d known it would as he’d stumbled from his grave: she wouldn’t hear of him now that he was gone. And when he stood before her she took him for a ghost, no matter how he tried
The night she had that awful dream Emma wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water and found Lisa by the sink, killing roaches and painting pictures with their innards around the edges of the drain.
“Lisa!” Emma had shouted, all bleary and confused, “What are you doing, child?”
When Lisa saw her mother she looked ashamed.
“Just killing bugs, Mama, that’s all,” she said, and her voice sounded guilty and repentant even if her words tried to make out like it wasn’t something heinous and disgusting she’d been doing.
“Why would you do such a thing, child?”
And Lisa had looked up at her mother like she was about to cry. “I just get so mad, is all,” she’d said. “Sometimes I get so angry I don’t know what to do.”
And all that night after Emma went back to bed she lay awake wondering which was real, the demoniac thing that drew her daughter to hurt those bugs, or the little girl who did such things even though they shamed her.
She never knew for certain.
The next day Mama Estrella and her sisters came looking for Lisa while Emma was away at work. She knocked three times, demanding to be let into the apartment, and when there was no answer she used her master key to open the door.
Lisa heard her, and she hid in the back corner of the closet, terrified of the chanting women and their incense. They looked and looked all through the apartment, but Lisa lay still as stone down in the dirty laundry, and they never found her.
When Emma came home she found Lisa still hiding terrified in her closet. Emma asked the girl what she was doing hiding there, and when Lisa told her Emma hit the roof.
She got on the phone and gave that Santeria Lady a piece of her mind.
But Mama Estrella didn’t hear a word of it.
“Emma,” Mama Estrella said, “your baby could die forever.”
Emma took the phone into the living room and closed the door as much as she could without damaging the cord. When she responded her voice was even angrier than she meant it to be. “You stay away from Lisa, Mama Estrella Perez. My Lisa’s just fine, she’s going to be okay, and I don’t want you going near her. Do you understand me?”
Mama sighed. “When you make a zombie,” she said, “when you make a real one from someone dead, I mean, you can make it move. You can even make it understand enough to do what you say. But still the body rots away. It doesn’t matter usually. When a zombie is gone it’s gone. What’s the harm? But your Lisa is inside that zombie. When the flesh rots away she’ll be trapped in the bones. And we won’t ever get her out.”
Emma felt all cold inside. She’d seen the rot; she knew what was happening to her little girl. But there was a truth in her heart, a knowledge and certainty that rose above all argument and justification. She reached into her heart and trusted what she found, and when she answered the Santeria Lady her voice was a crucible of rage. “Don’t you say things like that about my Lisa, Mama Estrella,” she said. “My Lisa’s alive, and I won’t have you speaking evil of her.” She opened the door and slammed the phone into its cradle before Mama Estrella could say another word.
Marlin, Texas
November 1948
Blind Willie finally left his open grave an hour after midnight. For a few moments he considered heading to the northern outskirts of town, to find his mourning wife and comfort her, but when he thought on that long enough he knew that she could never take him in her arms again, because the death that separated them was a final thing no matter how he came back to the earth.
Later he reconsidered this, and went home to look for her, but he never should have done it. It happened just the way he’d known it would as he’d stumbled from his grave: she wouldn’t hear of him now that he was gone. And when he stood before her she took him for a ghost, no matter how he tried
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