The Devil You Know Sunday EMILIANA MANEUVERED A POT of dried black beans under the flowing faucet. A skull materialized on the surface of the water making her drop the pot clattering in the sink. The skull disappeared. She shut off the faucet and listened to see if the noise had awoken Estela, but there was nothing. Estela was so medicated, she could sleep through a mariachi band playing full blast. It was Sunday afternoon. Luis, her grandson, was working, and his wife Estela was taking a nap. I must have imagined it, thought Emiliana, setting the pot on the counter. The skull looked like Tzitzimitl. That old demon hadn’t bothered her in years. Just thinking about her sent a shudder down Emiliana’s spine. Emiliana put on her raincoat and went on her mile-long afternoon walk in Seward Park in South Seattle. Her hips, knees, and hands blasted with pain, but she forced herself into the pouring rain, wading through puddles in her child-sized boots, the cold drops kissing her cheeks. Women Of Fire And Snow 42 I’m too old for this! I should be spending my last days in the sun, slowing down into the rhythms of nature. Instead, I’m in this dark place, still caring for the family. I don’t know how long I can keep doing it. She crossed from Luis’s low-income neighborhood into the more expensive blocks encircling the park. As she approached, the trees, lots, and homes became larger. She entered the park and stood on the bank of Lake Washington. In the distance, Mount Rainier loomed, a curtain of clouds partially drawn across its profile. Emiliana removed her boots and socks, gracefully balancing on each ancient foot in turn, despite her arthritis. The shock of the cold, wet grass ignited a longing for Mexico. Something darted in the periphery, catching her eye. She searched the shadows of the cedars, where tree trunks and hawthorns took on menacing forms. Blinking, she bent to study the mycelium, which extended to the soles of her weathered feet. “Thank you, Mother Earth,” she prayed, “please give me energy.” Eyes closed, Emiliana hummed an ancient song. With each exhalation, she blew away every thought … every sensation. Her mind quiet, she opened another sense, one with no name, and fear gripped her heart. Tatiana was in danger! She inhaled and opened her mind’s eye. Her great-granddaughter struggled in a pool of black sludge; a fiend hovered over her. Emiliana visualized Tatiana. Average height, toned, strong limbs covered with lean muscle from swimming and running. Brown hair fell heavily below her shoulders to frame a heart-shaped face, with large almond eyes and caramel skin. Smart, kind, respectful. Never a problem until six months ago, when she’d invited them to dinner to introduce them to a new husband and house. Emiliana’s pulse quickened. She put on her boots and hurried home. The urgency made the uphill walk back more strenuous than usual. Gasping for breath, she stood at the corner as The Devil You Know 43 the cold night air stung her cheeks. The lights from homes in the valley spread out like so many earth-bound stars. “He’s coming for her,” a low guttural voice said. The words were Zapotec, of the ancient valley peoples. She turned, expecting a man, but the street was empty.
EMILIANA MANEUVERED A POT of dried black beans under the flowing faucet. A skull materialized on the surface of the water making her drop the pot clattering in the sink. The skull disappeared. She shut off the faucet and listened to see if the noise had awoken Estela, but there was nothing. Estela was so medicated, she could sleep through a mariachi band playing full blast. It was Sunday afternoon. Luis, her grandson, was working, and his wife Estela was taking a nap.
I must have imagined it, thought Emiliana, setting the pot on the counter. The skull looked like Tzitzimitl. That old demon hadn’t bothered her in years. Just thinking about her sent a shudder down Emiliana’s spine. Emiliana put on her raincoat and went on her mile-long afternoon walk in Seward Park in South Seattle. Her hips, knees, and hands blasted with pain, but she forced herself into the pouring rain, wading through puddles in her child-sized boots, the cold drops kissing her cheeks.
I’m too old for this! I should be spending my last days in the sun, slowing down into the rhythms of nature. Instead, I’m in this dark place, still caring for the family. I don’t know how long I can keep doing it. She crossed from Luis’s low-income neighborhood into the more expensive blocks encircling the park. As she approached, the trees, lots, and homes became larger. She entered the park and stood on the bank of Lake Washington. In the distance, Mount Rainier loomed, a curtain of clouds partially drawn across its profile. Emiliana removed her boots and socks, gracefully balancing on each ancient foot in turn, despite her arthritis. The shock of the cold, wet grass ignited a longing for Mexico.
Something darted in the periphery, catching her eye. She searched the shadows of the cedars, where tree trunks and hawthorns took on menacing forms. Blinking, she bent to study the mycelium, which extended to the soles of her weathered feet. “Thank you, Mother Earth,” she prayed, “please give me energy.”
Eyes closed, Emiliana hummed an ancient song. With each exhalation, she blew away every thought … every sensation. Her mind quiet, she opened another sense, one with no name, and fear gripped her heart. Tatiana was in danger! She inhaled and opened her mind’s eye. Her great-granddaughter struggled in a pool of black sludge; a fiend hovered over her.
Emiliana visualized Tatiana. Average height, toned, strong limbs covered with lean muscle from swimming and running. Brown hair fell heavily below her shoulders to frame a heart-shaped face, with large almond eyes and caramel skin. Smart, kind, respectful. Never a problem until six months ago, when she’d invited them to dinner to introduce them to a new husband and house.
Emiliana’s pulse quickened. She put on her boots and hurried home. The urgency made the uphill walk back more strenuous than usual. Gasping for breath, she stood at the corner as the cold night air stung her cheeks. The lights from homes in the valley spread out like so many earth-bound stars.
“He’s coming for her,” a low guttural voice said. The words were Zapotec, of the ancient valley peoples.
She turned, expecting a man, but the street was empty
