La Mujer

Rosa dunks the mixing bowl into the dishwater. She hums along to a catchy kpop song playing on an old, AM/FM radio she keeps next to the sink. Her hips sway to the beat while she scrubs bits of tamale dough from the bowls surface. It’s a pleasant summer afternoon, and Rosa is content, if perhaps a bit lonely. It’s been weeks since her son Carlos visited. The music melody changes, and it takes a few moments before she realizes its actually the sound of sirens and she turns the radio off. They sound close. She crosses herself with her soapy, wet hands and recites the lords prayer. “Por la señal de la Santa Cruz…” She finishes by grabbing her Rosary and closing her eyes. She thinks of her husband, when he was young, healthy, and alive. She thinks of her mother-in-law, whom she hopes death will take soon to end her suffering. And she thinks of her darling boy. She wants to text him, make sure everything is okay, but thinks better of it. Está ocupado, she tells herself.

A window over the kitchen sink looks out onto the alleyway between houses. Rosa likes to watch the comings-and-goings. An alley cat naps in the shade of a trash can behind her neighbor’s house. A knock at the back door startles her. ¿Quién es? She wonders. In the middle of a weekday?

Rosa leans over the sink to peer out the window. Two people are standing outside her door. A woman dressed in black, and a man in a torn business suit. She doesn’t recognize either one until the man turns his head. Carlos! She blinks to make sure it’s really him. What is he doing here? And una mujer! She can’t remember the last time he brought a woman over. The woman turns and looks at Rosa. “Ah!” Rosa startles and yanks her head back.

“Un momento!” She yells, settling herself. She wipes her hands on her apron while walking to the door.

“Carlos!” She exclaims, opening the back door. “Mi hijo, such a suprise!

The young man smiles and steps inside. “Hola Mamá” He says, wrapping his arms around her. Rosa embraces him back. Something about his body feels strange, but her joy pushes the observation from her thoughts.

“Oh, hijo,” she says, “I’m so happy you’re here. But why? Shouldn’t you be at work? You never stop by like this. And why did you come in the back door?”

“I know, I should have stopped by more often…” he says, avoiding the question. “But I’m here now Mamá.”

Rosa steps back, her arms extended, gripping his shoulders. She looks him over. “Your clothes hijo, what happened?” Before he can answer, she adds, “And?” She motions her head towards the woman still standing in the doorway.

“Oh! Yes, of course, where are my manners.” He laughs nervously.

“Mama, this is my…acquaintance…her name is…” He looks again at the woman in black.

“Thana” The woman says. The voice is soft and low. Something about the tone gives Rosa goosebumps. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Rosa glances back at Carlos, who looks at her expectantly. Rosa doesn’t like this. Is he really that smitten with this woman? She can’t remember him being this nervous in front of a woman before.

She studies him a bit more before turning back to the doorway.

“¡Claro! I mean, of course, please, come in.”

The woman steps through the doorway. Rosa feels a cold draft seemingly from nowhere and shivers.

The woman is tall. Even taller than her son. Her face is pale, a stark contrast to her long, black hair that hangs down to her chest. She is covered from her neck down in lacy black clothing. Black gloves on her hands. Something about her appearance makes it hard for Rosa to estimate how old she might be. She looks like la gótica, Rosa thinks.

“¡Tienes que tener calor! I mean…you must be so hot! Can I take your coat and gloves?” Rosa tries to hide her apprehension with words of hospitality.

“I’m fine, thank you.” The woman says, turning and walking nonchalantly into the dining room, her hands clasped together in front of her. She stops to look at the prayer candles on an alter next to the dining room window. The casualness of this stranger offends Rosa. Who does she think she is?

Rosa turns her attention back to Carlos.

“Hijo, your clothes!” She grabs at a large tear along the shoulder seem of his jacket.

“Oh, Mamá, it’s okay, I just snagged it on something on my way into work. I won’t be needing–” He stops himself mid-sentence. “How’s abuela?” He says, changing the subject.

Rosa still has questions, but she decides to ask later. “Ah…hijo…no está bien. Go see her. She’s in bed resting.”

Carlos nods and walks down a hallway towards his old bedroom, now his grandmothers’ room.

Rosa turns to the woman in black. She’s sitting on the couch, staring at her. An unnerving smile on her face. Rosa takes a breath to steady herself. Now that they’re alone, she thinks, she’ll find out just who this woman is. She smiles at the women as she sits down on the couch across from her.

“Tu casa es muy bonita.” The woman says before Rosa can say anything. Her voice once again raising goosebumps on her arms.

“You speak Spanish?” Rosa says, surprised.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite languages to speak.”

“Oh, how many languages do you speak?”

“All of them.” She replies.

Rosa lets out an awkward laugh, thinking it’s a joke. The woman stares at her, unblinking. Rosa clears her throat.

“Well…how long have you lived in El Paso?” Rosa asks.

“A long time.” An awkward silence settles between them.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Rosa is getting impatient.

“We just recently met. I’m…helping him with a new…transition.” The word lingers in the air.

Transition? Rosa repeats the word in her head. Why is this woman speaking so vaguely? She decides to change her questioning tactics.

“Thana. What a beautiful name! What is la procedencia…ah, I mean, the..origin?”

The woman gives another unnerving smile.

“You seem to be very curious about me. I don’t blame you. I know I might appear a bit…odd.” She lifts her arms up and wiggles her gloved fingers.

What was she hiding under those gloves? Rosa’s mind races. Tattoos? Horrible scars? Perhaps it wasn’t her business. But this woman was harboring some secret. Something that made her son nervous. Rosa was okay being a bit rude if it meant protecting her son.

“It’s Greek.” The woman interrupted Rosa’s thoughts. “My name. I enjoyed their culture, and decided to take the name for…casual encounters, such as this.”

“You gave yourself a name? What about your parents?”

“I have no parents.”

The answer hangs in the air. Rosa’s stomach churns. This woman scares her.

“Poor Abuela.” Carlos says, walking into the room. He sits next to Rosa and lovingly rubs his hand on her back for a moment. He looks at Rosa, and she can tell he is trying to figure out how she’s feeling. She smiles to cover her discomfort.

“¿Tienes sed?” Rosa asks, to loud and enthusiastically. “You two must be thirsty on such a hot day.”

“No, gracias, Mamá. We’re not thirsty.”

“Nonsense, you didn’t even ask Thana! I’ll grab some agua frescas for us. Disculpe”

Rosa hurries into the kitchen. She pulls out her phone and searches for the name Thana. The search result confirms it’s Greek origin. She scrolls down the results with her finger, looking for its meaning. Rosa’s eyes widen when she reads it. Death.

Superstitious images flood her mind. Rosa steadies herself with a hand against the fridge. Her heart is pounding, her breath quick and shallow. She shakes her head, trying to clear the thoughts. Estoy preocupando demasiado, she tells herself. She gathers the glasses and pulls a full pitcher of watermelon drink from the fridge. Just in case, she grabs a lighter from a kitchen drawer to bring with her.

“Ah, tómate todo.” Rosa says, placing the drinks on the coffee table between the couches. She walks to the window, pretending to look out. “What a beautiful day!” She says, to cover the flicking of the lighter. The wick of La Virgen de Guadalupe candle finally lights. A thin wisp of smoke rises that she waves with her hand to dissipate. She discretely slips the lighter back into her pocket, and turning, she sees the woman smirking. Rosa tries to ignore the look and sits back down next to Carlos.

“Carlos, you should stay for dinner!” Rosa says, looking at him, hoping he’ll understand that she’s intentionally not inviting the woman. “I have leftover tamales I made for the church potluck. Or I can make something else?” Rosa turns toward the woman. “I understand if you need to leave before then.” It’s not subtle, but Rosa is done with subtlety.

Carlos looks to the woman, as if asking for permission. Rosa wants to scream at him. Yes! Stay! Tell this woman to leave!

“Sorry Mamá, we can’t stay long, we have to…” He looks again at the woman, who nods approvingly, “…go to an appointment.”

An idea flashes in Rosa’s mind.

“Oh, I just remembered the dishes!” She says, smacking her hands on her thighs. “¡Qué despiste! The water must be getting cold, and I hate to waste it. Disculpe, I’ll go finish them quickly.”

“I can do the dishes for you.” The woman says as Rosa gets up. Just what she hoped she’d say. Rosa feigns surprise.

“Oh, how nice of you to offer, it’s okay, I actually enjoy–”

“Please, I insist.” The woman stands and walks towards the kitchen. “You should spend time with your son, while you can.”

She bites her tongue. Her plan is working.

“Uno momento,” she says, patting Carlos’s leg. Rosa creeps towards the kitchen entrance and peers around the corner. She watches the woman standing over the sink, holding her hands in the air. Then the woman pulls off a glove, revealing a hand comprised only of bones. Rosa gasps loudly. The woman jerks her head to look just as Rosa pulls her head back. She leans against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to control her breathing, steadying herself. Por la señal de la Santa Cruz…

A burst of adrenaline courses through Rosa. She marches past the couch and frantically waves her hand at Carlos.

“Carlos, necesitamos hablar.” He looks at her, concerned. “Mama, is everything–”

“Ahora mismo!” She yells in a whisper, motioning for him to follow her down the hallway. She yanks him into her bedroom and slams the door.

“Who have you brought into my home?”

“Hannah? She just…”

“Thana, her name, her supposed name, is Thana!”

“Right, sorry, Thana is just–”

“¡Basta! No more lies! This woman, who knows all languages, who has no parents, whose name is Greek for death, she…” Rosa sucks in a breath, her body trembling.

“La Muerte…”

A wave a fear and anger crash over Rosa. Death, here, in her house! Her mind races for an explanation. She must have tricked her son...

“No, Mamá, she’s just…”

“She’s right.” The woman’s otherworldly voice interrupts Carlos. They both turn to see the woman having appeared behind them.

“You get out of my house!” Rosa screams.

“You invited me in.” The woman responds, calmly.

“La Muerte, I will curse you out! You think you can come and take my mother by tricking my son?”

“Mamá, she…” Carlos tries to put a hand on Rosa’s shoulder, but she shrugs it off.

“¡Espera!” Rosa says, turning to Carlos, then back to the woman. “Ah, are you here to take mi madre?” Relief rushes over Rosa and she clasps her hands together. “"Gracias a Dios" Oh thank you, thank you, she is in such pain, I’ve been waiting for death to take her.”

“I’m not here to take you mother.” The woman replies, coldly.

Rage swells in Rosa. “So you think you’ll take me, away from my son! How dare you!”

Carlos reaches for Rosa’s hand. “Mamá, please”

“No, no Carlos, I will cast this spirit out of my house!” Rosa grabs her Rosary and closes her eyes, praying aloud.

“Okay, if you wish me to leave, we will.” The woman says, as if bored and exasperated.

“Stop!” Carlos steps in front of Rosa and grabs her hands.

“Mamá, listen to me. She’s here to take me.”

Rosa opens her eyes. “¿Qué?”

“I…was in an accident. I glanced to look at my phone, and…” Carlos looks down. “I’m so sorry Mamá.” He raises his head, tears in his eyes. “I begged death to let me see you one last time.”

“No…Carlos…no no no.” Rosa steps back, shaking her head. She turns to death. “You…you can’t. Take me in his place!” Rosa gets down on her knees and clasps her hands together, pleading. “Take me!”

Death steps forward and places a gentle hand on Rosa’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry, his mortal body has already passed.”

Rosa’s mind races, searching for an answer, a solution. She remembers children’s tales of how to trick death, or bargain with her.

“Mamá, please, let’s use the time we have left.” He turns his head, which Rosa knows he does when he’s thinking. “Let’s look at that photo album you made for me. The one I never made time to look at with you.”

Rosa nods, tears filling her eyes. She pulls her apron up to wipe them and walks to the closet.

The three sit down and Rosa blows dust off a binder before setting it down on the coffee table. She takes as long as she can, lingering on each picture, telling stories. Her and Carlos laugh, and cry, and tease each other over the pictures. Every so often Rosa glances at death. She seems amused.

After some time, the light fades and dusk casts the living room in a cool gray shadow.

They finish the high school years just as Death interjects.

“I’m sorry, but it’s time for us to go.”

Rosa looks pleadingly at death, but her cold stare makes her realize it’s no use. The three slowly stand and walk to the back door. Rosa turns to Carlos and hugs him, her warm tears soaking his shoulder.

“Mi hijo, mi hijo…” she says, through sobs.

“Mamá, it’ll be okay. I’ve had a good life. You and Papá gave me everything I could have asked for. I’m not scared. I feel…okay.”

Rosa pulls back and looks at him. He does seem to her to be at peace.

Rosa follows them out the door and Carlos turns to her for for a final embrace.

“Goodbye Mi hijo.” Carlos turns and his image fades into the night. Rosa turns to death, who is lingering in the doorway. “Thank you.”

Death nods. “I’ll be back soon for grandmother. She won’t suffer too much longer.”

Death turns and fades into the night.