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LA LLORONA
By Priscilla Parker
She squinted in the low light, making sure to keep a tight hold on the water skins in the strong current. Too late, she thought, it's getting dark. But she'd stay here until the skins were filled. Then, they'd have water to drink and for cooking tonight. Tomorrow, she would refill the terra cotta cistern that sat just inside the doorway of their house.
Listening to the sound of her children playing she smiled. They were joy in her hard world.
Finally, the skins were filled. She hooked the fourth bag onto the end of the water pole and lifted it across her shoulders to balance it. Stumbling under the weight, she stopped a moment to shrug the pole into a more comfortable position.
"Jorge, Amelia ven pa ca." She called them to her side. They kept playing cat's cradle with a piece of string that she'd given them earlier. "Come on." She said in English and started walking down the trail though the cotton fields back to their house. This time they followed.
The weight of the water and the weight of the world rested on her shoulders as she walked back to the house she shared with her husband, Juan. She was as scared to go home as she was to leave. How could she leave? She had two children and herself to feed and who would hire a woman? Who, in this migrant camp or any other, could afford to pay her for any of the things she knew how to do, cook, clean, and raise children? And how would they treat her children? How would they treat her? It was better to return to the things she already knew, she decided. Weary and heart heavy, she plod toward home.
At least he didn't beat the children.
Voices carried on the wind from her house and she perked up. Visitors were always nice.
"Mis hijos, you be nice to the visitor, okay." They nodded. "Come here, let me clean you up."
They came to her. Jorge stuck the string in the pocket of his shorts and then held out his hands. She took a look at him. He was getting big. Already his clothes weren't fitting him. Only this pair of shorts still fit and they were tight.
Balancing the water skins, she lifted one up and wet her hands and rubbed all of the dirt she could off of his face and body. He moved out of the way of his sister and she held out her hands as he had.
Maria dried them off with the inside of the hem of her dress. It was dirty already anyway. They walked over the hard packed earth and around the corner to the entrance.
Quickly, she entered the house, pulling the water skins off one end and then the other with one hand and then rested the pole on the wall. She emptied the skins into the large pot she had on the countertop and into the pitcher she used for pouring.
"Go play." The children moved to their play area over by the dining table that stood just to the right side of the door.
"Juan, we're home."
The steady stream of laughter coming from the hearth room stopped and Juan coughed. "Excuse me." She heard him say.
He came into the kitchen from hearth room and glared at her. "What are you and those filthy children doing here? I told you to get water."
She held up the pitcher. "I did get water, but only enough for tonight because it was getting dark. I'll refill the cistern in the morning." She set the pitcher back on the table. "Who's here?"
"None of your concern."
"I heard laughing."
"You heard nothing. Go fill that cistern now!" He snapped.
Having accepted her fate, she didn't flinch. "No. I will do it tomorrow. It is too dangerous to be at the river at night." She moved then to light the lanterns.
Before she got two steps he'd closed the distance and grabbed a handful of her hair. She bit back a yelp as he tugged her head around to look at him. "What did you say?"
"Mama, mama!" She heard the children scuffle behind her and waved them back. She knew they'd stay too afraid of his anger to act.
"I said no."
"You will do as you are told. I will punish you for this later." He let her hair go. She would not give him the benefit of knowing it hurt and forced the tears from her eyes.
"Now, I have company. You will sleep out here con tus hijos." He said and turned on the heel off his foot. "Bring me some water." And disappeared back into the hearth room.
Her kids rushed over to her as soon as he was gone into the other room. Maria squatted down and hugged them both. They were crying. "Callate!" She whispered and put her finger over her mouth.
They quieted down. Jorge rubbed the back of his hand on his face to wipe the tears away. He was only five, Amelia three and Maria was sorry they had to see the violence of hers and Juan's marriage. "Mama, why does daddy hurt you?" He grabbed Amelia's hand as she struggled to control her sobs in hiccups.
"Don't worry about that, mi jito. You just take your sister and play over there."
He nodded and they went back to their play area and he pulled the string back out of his pocket and wound it around his fingers.
"Where's my water?"
Maria poured two glasses and set the pitcher on the tray. She might as well leave it in there for them while she cooked dinner. She wiped a damp sleeve over her forehead and face as much to relieve the heat as to clean the dirt.
She picked up the tray and hurried into the other room. He was already mad and there was no telling what he would do to her next. As she rounded the corner, Juan turned in his seat. Now she had a moment to register that he was wearing his best suit; the one that he wore when he visited his father at the main house.
Maria set the tray on the small coffee table in front of the chairs and looked at his guest. She was a young woman, probably nineteen or twenty. Young? Maria laughed inwardly. She, herself, was only twenty three but the years in between had been long and hard. The young woman was dressed in some finery. She wore an embroidered cotton dress that had full skirts and ruffles at the high neck.
"Hi, I'm Maria, Juan's_"
"Get out. I didn't hire you to talk to my guests."
"Hire me?"
The young woman looked at Maria and pursed her lips, then looked back at Juan. "Good help is hard to find these days." Then, she laughed at patted Juan's hand.
"Help?" Maria looked at their hands then at their faces and realized that something more than just visiting was taking place.
"I apologize, Esperanza, she keeps a good house, but is a little slow." He offered Esperanza a glass of water, which she took and sipped from.
She flicked open a fan to fan herself slowly. "No need, Juan. But, we will not live here, surely?" At that, she looked around the room with great distaste.
"No, mi amor, my father who owns these lands just passed away. I have out here working. You and I will live in the house where we met."
Maria, angry now at what happened before her in her own house stood up. She seized Esperanza's arm and jerked the fan out of the way so she could look into her face. "I'm no help, I am Juan's wife. If he chooses to leave me, so be it, but know that you make a poor choice in husband if you marry him. Look." She turned her head to the left and put Juan in her direct line of vision. Dark anger that filled his face and she dropped her eyes.
Esperanza gasped at the darkening bruise on Maria's face.
Juan jumped from his place and grabbed Maria by the shoulders and pulled her away from his soon to be bride. "How dare you spread lies? You are no wife of mine and you could have gotten that bruise from any of those children's possible fathers." He dragged her from the hearth room and threw her onto the hard dirt packed floor.
"Get gone." He said and disappeared back into the hearth room.
"Mis hijos, my children." She called them. The came to her. "Take this." She slipped a small pouch from her waist band and handed it to Jorge. "Take this and put it in your pocket."
Jorge did as she asked.
"Now, run and hide. Remember where we got the water today?"
"Mama, it's dark."
"Jorge, you have to do this for me. Take the lantern and your sister. I'll meet you there. Please, I do not want your father to_" She heard movement in the other room. "Go now."
He was crying again, but he grabbed Amelia's hand and dragged her out the front door as he dragged the lantern off the table.
"I'll come, my babies."
She crawled on her hands and knees to the table and hoisted herself up. Blood trickled down from a gash in her calf she'd gotten when Jorge dragged her against the coffee table. Limping over to the pot of water, she had to use the countertop for balance. She ladled water out and onto the cut. Blood thinned and poured down her leg and wet the floor.
The metallic smell of wet dirt wafted up and she smiled. The coming rain was one of her favorite smells. It spoke of respite from heat and the grit of dirt.
Juan came from the hearth room with Esperanza. "Your horseman will escort you home. I'm sorry that I cannot go with you tonight. I'll be along in the morning to continue the plans."
He stood in the doorway until the clomp of the horse hooves was very distant. He inhaled the fresh and cooling night air. "The rains are coming."
Maria limped back to the table. "No, that's just the water on the floor I used to clean my leg."
He turned to her. "That's three times you have talked back to me today. See for yourself." And, he stepped in from the doorway.
Big drops of rain sent puffs of dirt into the air and then rolled on the long dry and packed ground into rivulets. "No." Her hand came up to her neck and fingered the crucifix that her mother had given her. "Mi dios, no."
She stood to run out the door. Juan blocked her passage. "No, wife, you will get your punishment now because tonight is the last night I will see you."
"No." She pushed him into the wall and tried to run past him.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her back into the house and smacked her hard across the face. She moaned. It hurt twice as much having already been bruised the nights before.
She kicked him in the shin and surprised, he let her go.
"You bitch." He grabbed her hair and dragged her away from the door. "I gave you food and shelter and love until you had those filthy bastards. Who is their father anyway?" He punched her hard in the stomach. She dropped down to the floor.
"You're their father. I will not be blamed for your sin. Leave knowing that I have been true."
"Liar!" He screamed and kicked her back. Pain shot up though her head and she gasped for air. "Get out now!"
Torrents of rain beat down now. She moved as fast as her injured body could. Blood rain heavy from the gash in her leg. Tomorrow she'd sew it up. Tonight, she must get to her children. God, why had she sent them to the river?
She ran through the waist high cotton plants. The beds now ran with water and slipped as the mud sucked at her feet. Her breath came hard and her side ached. She clutched at her ribs. Broken.
She slipped again and pain danced through her middle. A broken lantern sat in a puddle. Screaming, she pulled herself off and continued her trek to the river.
When she got there, weakened and wheezing, the river was running fast and full. "Mis hijos! Jorge, Amelia." She called searching for them.
She checked the stand of rocks they'd been playing at earlier and found the length of string Jorge had entertained his sister with. Fear moved the pain away. Where were her children?
Footsteps in the mud lead to the water's edge. She followed them, a knowing too great to acknowledge, bubbled up from her depths. The pouch she'd given to Jorge lay just underneath the surface. There were stones here. From time to time, she would take the children across to let them climb and play in the mesquite trees.
"No, no, no." She mumbled to herself and limped along the riverbanks. About a half a mile up the river was a stand of ironwood trees that rooted in the river. Their branches were low and here, she found her children, floating in the river held in place by the arms of the trees.
She screamed. Tonight, she thought they might escape. A hard life she could bear, but no longer. Not without her children. She continued to scream until her mind broke.
Making her way back to her house, she shuffled through mud. Rain streamed down her face and into her mouth that hung open as she cried and sobbed. Juan would pay for this.
She entered the house, leaving a wet trail behind her as she made her way to where the children had played. She had her wedding trunk there and she opened it. Tearing off her rain ruined dress, she winced. Her wedding dress slipped neatly down onto her still lithe body.
Limping over to the kitchen, using the countertop again for support, she found what she was looking for. It was the only piece of good kitchen ware that they had. Her father had spent the last of his silver to buy her a good kitchen knife. "To last you through the happy years of your marriage, my daughter."
Quietly, lace rippling as she walked, Maria stole into the hearth room where Jorge lay sleeping. He snored.
Conclusion on page 2
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