Part 21 (1/2)
”Don't see her anymore.”
His eyes danced with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”She's real religious and it spooked her. Plus, she has a Kindred Primary of her own to find. I've tried to find him for her, so she won't be so sad. I know he's on earth now, but he's, like, in fourth grade or something. Ten year age difference. They'll be cool when they're both adults. Time comes, I'll arrange a hookup.”
”You can do that?”
”Sometimes. It's not part of my a.s.signment, but I think it'd be a nice thing to help her find him.”
I turned a little more serious at this point. ”Are there lots of you around? Revenants?”
He shrugged. ”I know some. I see 'em. La Llorona is the worst.”
I balked. I'd heard of La Llorona, a famous legend around New Mexico. ”Isn't that the lady who drowned her own kids, and wanders the ditches and rivers at night?” I asked him.
He laughed. ”Okay.”
”Did she really kill her kids?”
”Yeah, man. But she ain't crying 'bout that no more. She had post-partum depression, mamita, you know what that is?”
”When women get crazy after they have a baby, from hormones.”
”Yep. She had that, and an abusive husband, and she was stupid. The Maker and mayordomos decided to let her linger, but she's been lazy. That's why she's crying.” He laughed and shook his head in disbelief. ”She's been lingering for hundreds of years, but is too lazy to do any good deeds. She wants to, but she can't find the energy, so she cries.”
”Sounds like she needs medication.”
He laughed loudly at this. ”Yeah, maybe she does. She's a depressed soul. Yeah. That's about right. She's selfish, too, and don't want to move on.”
”She's not helping anyone,” I said. ”Why is she allowed to linger?”
”Ah, but she is helping. Think about it, Maria. Parents tell their kids she's gonna get them if they go near the rivers or if they go out at night alone. Then the kids see her, or hear her crying, and they believe in her, and they stay away from danger. Funny thing is, she killed her own kids, but she's saved a bunch of others.”
”Why doesn't she get good deed credit for that?”
”Because it's a pa.s.sive good she's doing, not an active good. She's incredibly pa.s.sive, La Llorona, but we've had some good talks. She's a'ight.”
”You've met her?”
”Word. You want to meet her? She ain't hard to find. She's freakin' loud.”
I shrugged, because even though I did not want to meet La Llorona, I didn't want to offend Demetrio by letting him know ghosts - other than him, of course - scared me.
”Are people surrounded by ghosts?”
”Maybe.”
”The frozen cows, do they count as a good deed for you, even though they're not in your jurisdiction, so to speak?”
”Yes. Which reminds me,” he said, he held up a finger in a ”eureka” motion. He pulled the little gold notebook and strange quill pen from his pocket, and jotted something down in it. He didn't let me see what he was writing.
”What are you doing?”
”Recording the deed, for posterity,” he said with mock pomp and what sounded like a fake British accent.
”Who keeps track?”
”The Maker. The mayordomos. Some other beings. Everything is accounted for.” He looked up at me apologetically. ”This little book here, it's nifty cuz it uploads directly to the universe, like the fastest computer connection ever.”
”It looks like a dusty old notebook.”
”That's the best part. Okay. Hey. It's getting late, sweet. You better get home.”
”But I need you,” I whined, clinging to him. He smiled at me, and held me gently.
”I need you too,” he said. ”But here's the good news, mami. I have you, and you have me. Time and distance don't matter now. We got each other now. Forever.”
”How many deeds do you have left,” I asked, suddenly realizing that once he'd completed them, he'd be gone from here.
”About 600,” he said.
”You're about halfway done.”
”Yeah. Just about.”
”And what happens when you finish them?” I braced for an answer I was pretty sure I didn't want to hear.
”I move on.”
”Without me,” I said, devastated.
”I'll see you again.”
I began to cry. ”This sucks,” I said.
”No it don't, Maria. You think so now, but there's so much you don't know yet.”
”Teach me.”
”I will, but not right now. Right now, your mom is turning to wine to fill a void you're helping create in her. Humans can do good in the world, every bit as much as lingering souls like me. But you gotta pay attention to what's going on around you. Be willing to give more often than take.”
”My mom is drinking again?” I said in disbelief.
”She's scared,” he said. ”And alone. She's been doing it more lately. She thinks the worst about you, it messes her up inside. Now, go to her and prove her fears wrong.”
”When will I see you again?”
”Stop worrying, Maria. This is a day to celebrate finding each other. I'm yours. I'll find you soon. I have to trust you not to come looking for me now that you know what's at stake.”
”I get it.”