Four Eyes | Page 4

Mosquitos and no-see-ums hungry for his skin.

"You got duppy?" Jimiti asked.
"That a ghost?"
Jimiti sighed. He stopped walking and faced the huge bay.
"A ghost," he confirmed, with sadness in his voice. "I don't self
understand what I doing here. I would have prefer to stay in Florida,
helping all them old people over, giving them some company. Instead, I
explaining what a duppy is."
"Who you talking too?" Manny asked, because Jimiti spoke to the
water.
"You see duppy often?"
Manny hesitated.
"Never mind." Jimiti took one more step towards the water. The steady
roll of waves against the beach began to slow, almost to a crawl, and
then died away. The wind dropped, the air hushed.
One lone rogue wave washed towards them. It broke, a miniature froth
of salty mist spinning off from it's top. And from that, Manny saw it
wash against a form.
"You see her?" Jimiti asked.
Manny blinked. The wave died, but a lady stood out of the water. Her
skin glistened with rivulets of water that dripped down between her
breasts, her stomach, her inner thighs, and then back into the ocean.
Her features never stayed in focus, but wavered like a reflection in
windy puddle.
"Yes," Manny breathed.
"This La Llorona," Jimiti said. "We meet often at places like these:
beaches, rivers, small ponds in parks with ducks paddling around the
middle."

"Who is she?" Manny stood frozen in place.
"My spirit guide." Jimiti nodded. "You won't find her on any Vodou
altar. And until a year ago, I never seen her. I think all the believing
Latinos in Miami that make her strong. Or maybe the world changing
this year. I don't know." Jimiti chuckled. "I once tell her she ain't even
the right mythology for me to see. And she had ask me 'what the right
mythology, Jimiti? You a two hundred-year-old blend of cultural mess!
What in you vein? Kikiyu? Ashanti? Grandmammy rock you to sleep
talking 'bout Ananzi, or Brer Rabbit? It don't matter where I come from,
only that I exist to you.' "
Jimiti stepped forward again.
"I old La Llorona. You tell me everyone here lose they culture. You
right. Look this one here. Don't self even know what a duppy is. My
coming back useless. You hear?"
The watery figure spoke. It sent shivers down Manny's back. He had
never heard a ghost speak.
"So because they don't know, you won't try bringing it back to them."
Jimiti sucked his teeth. "They young. They don't care. Too busy with
they nice car, big building, money, technology. I don't have nothing to
share with them. The world change past me, and I don't understand
them."
La Llorona looked at Manny. Her eyes cleared with a ripple.
"You are right. The world has passed you. But they still need
understanding. Compassion."
Jimiti spat. He looked at the amazed look on Manny's face and pursed
his lips.
"Compassion. What you know of compassion?" He looked angry, and
hurt. "Let me help you understand this spirit here," he told Manny. "La

LloranaÉ better known as Bloody Mary."
"Please don't," La Llorona asked.
"Haunting, crying, river spirit," Jimiti continued. "At the youngest age
she had take her two children to the river. She grabbed them by they
little young neck and pushed them both under river, and hold the both
of them there until their palms stop hitting thewater. Then she let go
and watch them still body float away."
La Llorona looked down at the water by her waist.
"And after she killed herself," she whispered, "she searched the edges
of waters everywhere, hoping to find her two lost children." Her voice
hardened. "Thank you for telling him this Jimiti. You are such a kind
old man."
Manny felt the water around him vibrate and surge against his legs.
"Please," La Llorana asked him. "Don't think those things about me."
Silent tears rolled down her face. They mingled with drops of water
hovering on the edge of her chin and fell down into the ocean.
"I'm sorry," Jimiti apologized. He had tears of his own.
La Llorana shook her head.
"Take care of yourself, Jimiti," she said, putting a wet hand to his chest.
"I will see you again, soon enough. You know this. Go do what you
have to do."
A wave broke against La Llarona's legs. She dissolved into the water
with a sigh. A single strand of seaweed that had been wrapped around
her small breasts floated free and grounded itself on the sand in front of
Manny.
Out past the small reef he could hear her calling for her children, a
small plaintive voice lost in the rustle of coconut palms.

Jimiti put a hand on Manny's shoulder.
"You know what they does call the