so… i’m writing a novel. how insane. if you would’ve told me four years ago that this is what i’d be doing i wouldn’t believe you at ALL. this novel is nowhere near finished. my process has been pretty strict. once i write a chapter i white it out completely so i can’t see it. if i can’t see it i can’t pick at it, and if i can’t pick at it then i can actually move forward and write it. that changed this week.
i did an event at the store last night where i read excerpts from one of my favorite chapters so far. i don’t know why i did that. i haven’t let a soul look at this because it's become such a private process. marcos said something really profound when i told him i kind of regretted making that decision. he said “well obviously there’s something in there that you think is worth sharing.” and he’s right! so i plucked this chapter out, did some editing, did a lot of cutting for the sake of time, and i read it last night. so because it’s on the internet forever now, streamable on youtube, why not post it for y’all to read who couldn’t make it and/or stream?
this is all subject to change, of course! the working title is sisters of water. i think i like it???
for context:
this book takes place in florida (write what you know) and follows a white woman (her being white matters) whose backyard connects to a swamp. in this swamp she discovers three young girls, sisters, who all have… special qualities. the girls aren’t white. are they hispanic? black? who knows? this (white) woman brings them in and raises them as her own. but when the youngest child starts to show signs of some unknown illness, this new mother decides to begin practicing some spiritual, santeria-esque, brujeria as a means of healing her. the oldest sister is carmen, the middle sister (whose perspective the book is in) is named bernie, the youngest is mara.
this chapter takes place just after Momma had a High Priestess come assess, and hopefully aid in, Mara’s condition. it didn’t go well.
i think that’s enough context.
enjoy! be nice!
xoxo
When Carmen and I woke up the next morning it was raining. I heard the wind, the shaking of palm trees, the pattering on the windowsill. The air in the room felt a bit wet. More than usual. Before opening my eyes I reached my hand out for Mara, to see if she still had her fever. She wasn’t in our bed. My hand only touched cool sheets. I sat up quickly, blinking a few times to clear the sleep out. Carmen was looking at me, already getting out of bed.
“Her fever hasn’t broken. Momma was just in here, she wants us to come out and help.” she said, her voice still stuck in her sleep.
“Another ice bath?” I asked, swinging my legs out of the covers. “More medicine? What?”
Carmen paused for a minute. Not to find the words, but to force them out through her own confusion.
“She said something about a chicken.”
- - -
Carmen and I entered the kitchen to see Momma running around like a madwoman. She had candles lit and was muttering to herself, scanning pages from different thick books, following instructions, maybe. She had all her cups and bowls and pendants and crystals laid out in a way that seemed on purpose, but made no sense to either of us. She had on her “healing dress”, the one she got at the flea market. Every time she moved it wooshed around her like a white shadow, sometimes getting caught on a piece of furniture that would jerk her back, only frustrating her more.
Mara was in one of the chairs in the dining room, sweat pooling at the base of her neck, her pajamas sticking to her body. Her eyes closed. I watched as her chest struggled to rise and fall. Her skin was pale and her cheeks looked hollowed, hungry.
“She’s not doing any better. That Priestess was no help at all. She’s getting worse and I know there’s something else I- we can do.” Momma said, returning to her pattern of spinning through the room, dashing different herbs in a pot. “We’re the only ones who can stop it.” she said.
“What do you want us to do?” I asked.
“I already told your sister. Find a chicken and bring it back here now.”
- - -
fast forward!! they go into the swamp and wouldn’t a know it, they find a chicken! how surreal! how magical! how magical surreal!
- - -
Back home, Momma had us change into our dresses that were similar to hers, only these were ones she made from old curtains and lace she had collected over time. We changed Mara into hers first, being sure to be as careful as possible. When she was naked I was able to see her ribs, her hip bones sticking out, her thighs thin and veiny, her stomach almost completely caved in on itself. She was always the lightest of us, but never like this. The dress fit her loosely, the shoulder slipped down from time to time without her having to move.
Momma made these dresses for us years ago, so they didn’t wear the same. Mine was tighter around the chest and arms while Carmen’s stopped at her thighs. She had shot up like a tree from the time Momma had made them. The dresses were made for the summer solstice, some new ritual she had read about. She had us wear them and stay outside in the heat all day collecting offerings for the sun. I remember gathering flowers in the garden with Mara. I was on my knees picking at stems for what felt like hours. There were still grass stains on the hem.
We then cleaned the house from the top down. We swept, mopped, then swept and mopped again. We dusted every shelf, shook every book of its dust. We rinsed every dish, knick knack, and pendulum until they sparkled. We smudged the house, then again with a “set intention”. Momma said that we couldn’t do the work we needed until the entire house was clean in as many ways as possible.
The sun was beginning to set. The house was flooded with orange and red. The room was a rose ripped open. Mara didn’t move from her chair once. She only moved her face in discomfort and pain. Her lips were thin, cracked, and looked like they were bleeding in some spots. If she didn’t have that scar on her cheek, the one she got when she fell off of the counter playing, I almost wouldn’t have recognized her. Once the house was clean Momma told us to pray over Mara while she set up the bathroom for the healing. I looked at Mara for a moment, and wondered where she was going, and why she was going so quickly.
So Carmen and I held hands, closed our eyes, and prayed. We believed Momma in that moment because, what else could we have done? I squeezed my eyes shut but I could hardly muster anything without my thoughts drifting off. I was already beginning to see life without her and I couldn’t bear it. I tried to remember her as I loved her: bright, funny, daring. I remembered her hanging from a branch in the backyard, her bare feet dangling and covered in mud even after Carmen demanded she get down and put her boots back on. She went digging for worms to chase me with them. Her laugh was a fire crackling. We would lie in our bed together and she’d ask me to tell her stories from the books I had read. I wished I had a story to tell her right then, but nothing came to me that she hadn’t heard already. She deserved something new, and I couldn’t find it for her.
Momma emerged. Everything was ready.
The bathroom was transformed. The lights were off, and the entire room was lit by candlelight. She had stones on every surface imaginable. The tub was filled, the water steaming with various flower buds and leaves floating in it. Momma made her a healing bath with Florida Water. She was obsessed with it. I knew because the smell burned the inside of my nose and sent the sensation down my spine. Too strong. The chicken was hanging on the curtain pole, upside down with its neck visibly broken.
“Why did you kill the chicken?” Carmen asked, horrified.
“I sacrificed the chicken for Mara. One life for another. Lower her in. Slowly.” Momma said, grabbing a book and flipping through its pages.
As we set her down in the warm water, I felt Mara’s muscles begin to relax. Once she was settled Carmen used a wet hand to smooth her hair out of her face. She put a hand on her cheek and looked at her for a moment before kissing her forehead and leaving. I did the same, only I held my lips to her hot skin for a second longer.
“I’ll see you soon.” I whispered. I kissed her again and followed Carmen out.
After some time Momma left the bathroom, closing the door behind her, telling us she would be leaving Mara in the bathroom overnight to “heal”.
“For the whole night?” Carmen asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we check on her throughout? Take turns?”
“No, Carmen.” Momma snapped. “We need to let her stay in there alone. Nobody opens that door until the sun rises. Do you understand me?”
Carmen and I stood still. Momma doesn’t speak to us like that.
“Yes ma’am.” we said together.
She softened when she heard us. “I want her to get better, girls. I know you do, too. Just trust me, okay? Please.”
We nodded and went into our bedroom, closing the door behind us. We sat on our beds, mine feeling much emptier than before. I kept quiet as Carmen lowered her head onto her pillow, turning her back to me. I repeated the same action, only stayed on my left side, staring at the back of her head until my eyes went blurry and finally closed.
- - -
We woke to screams from the bathroom unlike anything we had ever heard before. It was Momma screaming Mara’s name. Her voice wrapped itself around me.
Carmen and I flew from our bedroom and ran to the bathroom. My heart was pounding. She’s back. I thought. All of this had worked. We turned the corner and ran in. Momma was on the floor, clutching the edge of the tub in an iron grip. The skin on her knuckles yellowed from how tight she was squeezing. She was hyperventilating, her body rattling.
We stepped closer, lightly, and looked in the tub to see Mara, only she was completely submerged under the water, eyes closed. Sleeping.
I felt my stomach begin to churn, Carmen almost fell to her knees. But as soon as we saw her it was as if she knew Carmen and I were there. She opened her eyes under the water and looked around for a moment. She sat upright slowly, breaking through the surface. It was the most active I’d seen her in months, if not more than a year. She rose until she was standing, her body dripping with water, small flower buds stuck to her skin and in her hair.
Mamma’s panicked breaths turned to silence turned to cries turned to joy. We stood there, watching Mara look around curiously. She looked flushed. Life completely restored in her.
Mamma cried out one final sob before she reached out to Mara, wrapping her arms around her shoulders to pull her in for a hug.
Only once Mamma touched her Mara disappeared. Her body rippled and turned to a stream of water and flower buds that joined the rest of what was in the tub. All that rang through the bathroom was the sound of small lapping from the waves in the tub below us, the sound big enough to crash into us all.