Chapter 35
I killed Mother.
One night, or perhaps one more day. That is all she has, he says. The dehydration was too much for her already-weakened state. It is my fault.
Mother had asked for a priest in her final weeks before falling into the slumber. I never called for one. It felt premature, impossibly so. I believed that she had time, that a priest could be brought later. I clung to this belief the whole time.
Mother never had a chance to confess her sins before the end, to purge her soul and repent. That could be the difference between Hell and Purgatory.
Doctor Lobo stands beside her bed, looking grave.
The silver moon beams in the window, which brings in a cool breeze and the buzzing of crickets and cicadas.
I see specks of stars in the sky. When I was little our farm dog Trigo died, and Mother pointed to the clouds and said Trigo became a little star in the sky.
“Leandro? Are you listening to me?”
I look at him. “Yes,” I say, though I did not even realize that he was talking. He does not look at me with pity like the others do, and that I am grateful for.
“As I was saying, you must not blame yourself. It is the natural course of an illness with a high fatality incidence.”
Empty words spoken only out of kindness. Of course it is my fault. Doctor Amado had said there was a possibility she could awaken and recover. It was I who robbed her of that possibility, because of my neglect.
“Tomorrow you must speak with your relatives about burial procedures.”
“Burial?” The word carves a hole inside my chest. “There won’t be a burial.”
“Pardon?”
“She will remain here, in the senzala.”
Yes, that’s it. All will be just as it was. Nothing has to change. She’ll remain in the senzala and I’ll still visit her at night. In some ways, it will be better, because I won’t have to do the exercises or give her sponge baths or any of the other things. Yes, it will be the same, only simpler.
Minus the hope.
Minus the hope that she will ever wake up again.
It’s not the same at all.
I killed her.
“Her body will decompose.”
“Aren’t there chemicals that can stop the decomposition process?”
He stills. But he doesn’t tell me I am mad. He looks down at Mother, then at me again, and I can see him deliberating. His hesitation is enough to give me hope. He’s not shaking his head and averting his gaze, unable to face me, like all the other doctors.
A primal despair grips me. “Is there truly nothing that can be done?” I ask. “There must be something.”
“Well…” He sighs. “I studied medicine at the prestigious University of Padua. Your other doctors were right in that this case is beyond the reach of medical science. We must look to other, non-medical arts.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“All illness springs from a lack of balance in the spirit. The solution is to return to a state of harmony. And then, even extreme cases can be cured, I have seen it happen. The key is to understand that it is not enough to heal the body. The spirit alignment must be restored.”
“How do we do that?”
“Through magnetic healing, a three-dimensional healing that restores the fundamental harmony of the spirit. It cannot revive one who is already dead, however it can bring someone back from the precipice. I don’t believe she has more than one night, so if we are to do it, we must do so tonight.”
“Oh.”
My mouth has gone dry. His talk of magnetism sounds unorthodox, but traditional medicine has already given up on Mother.
Maybe this…this three-dimensional healing could work.
He is a well-bred, successful man, and besides, what is the alternative?
Mother dies as a result of my neglect. He is not lying about her condition, I can see it.
I can see that she is on the brink of death.
Doctor Lobo can do no greater harm than what I have already done…
If Mother dies, there will be no one left alive who loves me.
“Do it.”
He nods, a shadow crossing his face. He looks around the room. “The house will need to be purged in its entirety, of course.”
“The house…purged?”
He nods. “To clear the dark spirits that fester here.”
I shudder. “There are dark spirits here?”
“Oh, yes. There are dozens of devils festering in this house. They are attracted to your restless aura, your intense inner turmoil. Joaquina’s as well. These dark spirits feed on your destructive energy.”
I think of Joaquina, and can only imagine what he must think of me, given the things I confessed to in the letter.
“I…I tried ending the affair. I tried dismissing the girl, but she refuses to leave.”
The words sound pathetic when spoken aloud. He frowns, no doubt judging me a coward for being unable to assert myself against a girl servant. For letting her rule the house in my stead.
“She may look innocent,” I say defensively, “but her true nature is beguiling and feral. She cares not at all for what is right and proper. She lives in constant pursuit of hedonistic pleasures. She likes fancy fabrics and fashions, gemstones, gazing at her own image in the mirror, and the pleasures of the flesh.”
“Does she have many relatives? Friends?”
“She has six siblings and they live in poverty. The parents work all day and the children roam in the mud, picking through abandoned building sites and such. I suppose that explains why Joaquina behaves as she does.”
He nods, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “You feel an unbearable compulsion to sin when you see her, don’t you? Almost as if it’s coming from outside of you?”
“Yes, exactly!”
“Because it is coming from outside of you. There are devils, dark spirits, in this house, and they will lay waste to you as they already laid waste to your mother. You can feel them, can you not?”
“Yes, I can!”
“Right now they are still thought-forms, invisible to the naked eye. But in time, they will solidify and gain corporeal form, especially if Joaquina remains here.”
I swallow. “Corporeal form?”
“That means you will be able to see them. You will start hearing strange sounds at night. Flames convulsing, cold gusts of wind, erratic sounds. And if it keeps going, you will see them. When they become solid, it is almost impossible to purge them, as is the case with all manifestations of thought into matter. We must reverse course while they are still energetic.”
I shudder. Yet I feel deep down that he is right. This house and its shadowed corners, its sinking darkness that seeps into every piece of furniture, is haunted.
“The girl must be dismissed,” he pronounces. “I will take care of it, but you must promise never to seek her out again. You must not go knocking on her door later.”
“Of course not,” I say. “Never again, never.”
“You must understand, even the thought of her will attract the spirits to return. Speaking her name will send forth a powerful wave of intention that may undo my work here. After tonight, you must not think of her, you must not utter her name, and you must not acknowledge that she ever existed. Can you do that?”
It sounds excessive, but a clean break from Joaquina is perhaps what I need. I have tried it my way and it hasn’t worked.
“Yes.”
“Very good. Now tell me, where is she?”
“Asleep in her maid’s cot down in the servants’ quarters.”
He takes out an hourglass from his suitcase and plants it on the nightstand beside Mother’s bed.
“Keep your mother company. The chance of success is low. Say your goodbyes if you need to. You have until the sand spills in this hourglass. After which time, you will return to your room. You will hear some troubling sounds, feel some disturbing vibrations. These are the spirits being stirred up. No matter what you hear, you will not interfere. Do you understand?”
I nod. The sand in the hourglass has already started slipping through to the bottom, which gives me the sense that it has already begun, and I feel unprepared.
“Excellent,” he says and turns away.
“Doctor Lobo, I must warn you…Joaquina can be very persuasive.”
He smiles. “So can I.”