The Wailing Woman

6. Crashing a Funeral

I don't remember how my mom died. I don't remember the flames, I don't remember feeling the heat, nor how I survived. Everyone wants to know what happened, I wish I could tell them but I can't. I only remember the after, waking up in the hospital and being surrounded by doctors and police officers. Doctors were trying to figure out how I could survive a fire without any burn marks and the police were trying to figure out how the house caught on fire.

Too many questions to be answered and I couldn't talk. My throat felt as if it had been scorched by the fire and the flames came out of my mouth. The doctors and police took my silence as a shock to what happened. But I won't ever forget the look on their faces, full of pity because they knew something that I didn't know.

No one wanted to give me more pain and neither did I, so I buried it.

Doña Refugio came to my rescue, the neighbor's crazy old lady with her frizzy brown-gray hair. She wasn't crazy, she was an old woman slowly losing her memories but my mom trusted her with my life. Refugio helped my mother by teaching me my father's native language. She took care of me when my mom had to go to work. She also knew of our true identity, banshees. Mom trusted her and Refugio became like a grandmother to me.

Left in her care, Refugio raised me until my last year in high school. She continued to teach me Spanish, taught me how to garden, learned to conceal the truth, and tried to help me fight the voices. She always wanted me to win, but they won again when they spoke of Refugio's death.

I flattened the edges of my black skirt as I have been anxiously doing for the past couple of minutes. A week has passed since Theo's father died and I was able to find out today was his father's funeral. I have been standing outside the stone-cobbled funeral home, tip-toeing back and forth on entering.

Groups of people stood outside in black clothing idly talking to one another. They were beginning to stare at me, Come on, Nora. You need to do this. It's the least you could do.

Once more I flattened out the black skirt while wiping down my clammy hands and my boots began to click the ground swinging the wooden door open. Instantly, the smell of coffee brewing and gardenia lingered through the air. My eyes roamed around the lobby room, candle-shaped lights, gray walls, small tables with vases filled with different flowers, and a bunch of people either sitting down on the couches or standing.

I began to walk as I passed through people until the strong aroma of coffee once again filled me, the room seemed to be occupied with food and drinks. Cookies, sandwiches, brownies, coffee, water, and many more foods. My stomach grumbled in response. Now is not the time to hunger, remember what you came for, I scolded myself.

I turned away from the delicious sweets and moved my legs towards the big room where the casket stood until I accidentally bumped into someone's shoulder. Contents of the person's bag spilled out, I hurriedly reached to help pick up the items when I noticed a glass bottle shaped into the form of a tear.

My hand reached for it, picking it up as I saw liquid shifting between blue and purple. There were words inscribed onto the bottle, PĀX. I furrowed my eyebrows, I turned around to see a girl with waves of long brown hair as she kept pushing her back behind her ears as she tried to pick up the rest of her stuff.

I could only see her side profile but she was very pretty. Her high cheekbones, long lashes, thick eyebrows, and olive skin. She finally faced me, her golden eyes widened at my hands.

I stretched my arm out handing over the tear-drop bottle, "I think you dropped this when I bumped into you. I am sorry about that." I said cautiously.

She stiffly nodded her head, "It's okay, I have been clumsy lately."