The Afterlife (14 page)

Three cars were in the driveway, and I suspected one was an unmarked police cruiser. It just had that look. But I was wrong there, too, because soon the front door opened and a man in a black suit came out, briefcase in hand. The briefcase seemed to weigh a lot, because the man's shoulder was slumped from carrying it. I realized immediately who he was. He was the man from a funeral home, and he had just conducted business with Crystal's dad and mom. Maybe he brought out brochures about caskets and headstones. I feared the discussion.

Full of sorrow, I swung my attention away and stared absently at the vineyards, where a blackbird on a wire was wiping its beak under a wing. "Crystal," I moaned. The blackbird, done with its primping, leveled its wings and jumped, the wire like a guitar string producing a metallic twang.

"Chuy" I heard.

I turned. It was Crystal, coming out of the vineyard, and she did not seem in the least shocked that my body was nearly gone. But I was troubled that her legs—how beautiful they were—were gone, as were most of her arms. Her long, brownish hair flowed, and the corners of her mouth were dented with the start of a smile.

Crystal approached me with the stumps of her arms out. What a rare gift for an average-looking dude like me! To be the object of desire! Crystal leaned her face to mine and gave me a light kiss, then one that was heavier, for her tongue touched mine in greeting. We clunked our heads together, bashful as ponies.

"Crystal," I whispered, my face in her neck.

"Chuy," she said back in a sweet whisper.

We kissed again and touched nose to nose. Was a ghost ever so happy?

We laughed and then became quiet when the funeral man's car pulled away, raising a long cloud of farm dust. We watched the car stop at the end of the drive, its brake lights deep red against the grayish morning.

We looked toward the house when the front door closed with a click. Crystal's father was gone, and the blackbird that I had seen earlier settled on the rail. The bird cleaned itself again, but beat its wings and lifted skyward when the door opened. Crystal's mother, shrugging into a coat, came out. She shaded her eyes, as if she was looking for her daughter, and, not finding her, began to tend to a potted plant's dead petals. I let Crystal pull in all the images of her mother that she could. I watched her take in, as if for the last time, her mother's dark hair, her face, her hands methodically pinching at dead flowers. Her mother then shaded her eyes and stared far away.

"Oh, Mother," Crystal moaned.

I lowered my head. Two ants were carrying a feathery seed that was three times bigger than them. The little guys had courage and purpose.

I waited a patient five minutes before saying, Let's go.

We turned, flowed a few inches from the ground, and found ourselves at the side of her house. Once more, I inspected the faucet where I had washed my face after the wasp stings. I gazed up at the barn, where the abandoned honeycomb nests mostly remained.

"Chuy," Crystal volunteered. "I missed you."

I swallowed that tender declaration.

"I missed you, too," I said. "God, I wish I knew—"

She cut me off, as if she could read my mind, and said, "But you know me now."

Our deaths would be remembered by family and a few friends who might think of us as they drove through the streets of Fresno and Selma. Let them remember us as okay kids—both of us long-distance runners who didn't get very far.

We leaped into the air and the wind took us.

"Where are we going?" Crystal asked. Her hair swirled in front of her face, which was pink from the cold wind.

I smiled at her. "Let's check it out," I answered without fear as we sailed over her farm and over a farm that was like hers, full of grapevines.

They say autumn is the color of death, and, for Crystal and me, it was true. We were like the tint of fallen leaves, grass burnt by the first frost, and the ashen-colored fog that sometimes rises from the valley floor and smothers our dreams. My dream had been to grow up, work a regular job, nothing special, hang out with friends, and be with someone special like Crystal. I received a portion of that dream and felt grateful for it. I loved her like no other. She flew at my side, southward toward what, I now knew, is called the afterlife.

ay, dios
oh, God

borrachos
drunkards

cabrón
bastard

los campos
the countryside

cara
face

carnal
blood brother

chale
no way

chavalo
child

chicas
girls

chicharrones
pork rinds

chismosos/as
gossipers

cholo
gangster

chones
underpants

la chota
the police

churros
doughnut-like pastry

"
Cielito Lindo
" a song

cochino
Pig

comadre
extremely close woman friend

cruda
hangover

entiendes
understand

feo
ugly

feria
cash

hijole
wow

huango
loose, misshapen

mala
bad

menudo
a soup

mi'jo
my son

mi abuela
my grandmother

mi novia
my sweetheart

mi papi
my daddy

mocosos
snot-nosed kids

mota
marijuana

nada más
no more

nalgas
buttocks

novio
boyfriend

paleta
Popsicle

panadería
bakery

pan dulce
sweet bread

pendejo
stupid person

placa
signature graffiti

primo
cousin

pues
well

puta
whore

qué asco
how disgusting

qué gacho
what a mess/what a bad thing

quien sabe
who knows

rancheras
old-fashioned songs

raza
Latino race

sapo
toad

sin vergüenza
shameless

suave
cool

telenovela
soap opera

tonto
stupid

tripas
intestines

vato
cool guy

viejo
old man