About halfway there I slowed down and began moodily kicking at pebbles. Another connection between my family and the Floreses? I didn't care what Myra said. I wanted to know more about this!
“You what?!?” Myra screeched when I told her what had happened. I rolled my eyes and removed my fingers from my ears.
“Oh, come on, My, don't be so melodramatic. What happened to her? She looked normal one minute and the next she seemed totally spaced out!”
“She's nutty! How many times have I told you that? People say she's cursed, too! Every man in her life dies! Your Uncle Freddie left her for another woman, but it was too late. He died the morning of his wedding day. Mike had been born by then, after she'd quickly married Uncle Martin on the rebound. And Uncle Martin's dead now, too!”
“So?”
“Your uncle was a young and healthy man, Lovelove. He was thirty-three! He didn't have to die so soon! They found him in his bed that morning. Dead.”
“That doesn't mean she had anything to do with it.”
“Aside from being cursed? Well, I heard people say that long ago before your uncle died, she had come to see him the night before. Carrying her baby.” Myra watched my face carefully. “Do you believe me now?”
I snorted.
“Curses,” I said, “happen to come true only when the victim wants or believes them to happen. That woman couldn't hurt an ant. From what I've seen and heard so far, I'd think she was a victim, not a villain. I intend to get to the bottom of this, even if it takes me the whole summer!” Yeah, yeah, I know, the arrogance of youth and all that. Perhaps I was envisioning myself a heroine. I didn't really understand then the price that came with it.
“Oh, really!” Myra said.
“Really!”
“Then count me out!” Myra shuddered. “Better safe than sorry. Don't say I didn't warn you, Lovelove. You're on your own in this. You'd better leave it alone! Go home and play Star craft or whatever!”
I rolled my eyes and sighed some more, but I couldn't get her to change her mind, so I finally gave up. Myra absolutely refused to go out with me, so I left. Allain and Ian were coming down the hill from our house when I let myself out of the de Dios gate, so I stood there and waited for them to come by, planning to go with them to the barrio. Ian had his iPod, so I appropriated the other earphone and plugged it into my ear, half-wincing at the sound. “Sweet Dreams.” Air Supply, for heaven's sake! Ian and Allain have no taste for any song created in the "90s or later. They like vintage rock and pop, not alternative or hip-hop or RnB, and they don"t even know or care who Eminem is!
“Don't you have any Westlife or Rivermaya?” I asked. Don't get me wrong, all you Air Supply fans. It's all just a matter of preference. As my friend Charisse would say, “De gustibus non est disputandum,” or in plain words, “In matters concerning taste there is no point in arguing.”
“Whose iPod is this anyway?” Ian asked, which settled the matter.
I walked into the village in my usual pose when walking with my brothers; my right hand in the crook of Ian's elbow, my left in Allain's.
The usual basketball game was ongoing on the court in front of the cooperative store. It came to a crashing halt, literally, when we arrived. Buddy stopped in mid-jump to stare and came crashing down to earth, landing ignominiously on his backside in the dust. Everyone turned to look where he was looking. I giggled to myself, unhooked one hand and gave my best regal wave, then turned casually towards the store, thanking my lucky stars that I had chosen to wear my yellow capris and ocher-brown fitted blouse. Even if Michael hadn't appreciated the effect, it was good to see that others didn't.
In the next instant, Ian said, “Wow! Who's that?”
Allain and I turned to see what he was looking at. A girl was walking, or rather, drifting, down our lane towards the barrio. As she drew nearer, I could see that her flowered cotton shorts and pink t-shirt were faded and worn. Even then, she was dramatically beautiful and graceful. Her huge dark eyes with long thick lashes and her long, straight, very black hair contrasted dramatically with her very fair, smooth skin and classic features. She walked straight ahead, looking neither to the right nor to the left as she passed the court. Then I realized ours were the only admiring looks she was getting. The others were insulting. Or downright scornful.
