The Weeping woman

Cuatro

" I saw her?"

"Yes. This very river. You ran like never before back home" Alfonso chuckled, reminiscing the memory I couldn't remember.

"Well, I can't remember"

"Anything?"

"Nothing"

Alfonso gazed at the river, seemingly far away from reality. Until he fixtated his gaze on me, displaying hints of confusion and disappointment

"Maybe it's better to have forgotten it, it was truly a horrific moment for you"

"It must have been"

"It truly was" Alfonso glanced at his watch, then he grabbed me by my arm and we walked back home, " Mama always wants us to come home early. Those stories, she believes them" 

"I think I figured that"

"Yes, she shows no hesitation in showcasing her fears "

"Strong woman she is"

As expected, we happened to arrive home at Two O'Clock. Mama, Anita, Bernardo and Rosalina were sitting around in the living room, eyes glued to a Mexican telenovela. That was, until Mama saw us enter. 

"It may seem like a nuisance, but Alfonso? Maybe you can re-introduce Mexico City to Rosalina and Diego?" She glanced between Rosalina and me "I hope you two won't mind?"

Sixty minutes walking from a river and back surprisingly didn't seem to tire me out yet, so I agreed to a tour around Mexico City. After all, it has been five years since our last visit here.

"Okay, Mama. I'll take the van" Alfonso carefully rummaged through the pocket in his jeans until his fingers entwined around the keys.

"Rosalina, you're going to love Mexico City" Mama said.

                                                               ***************************

"So what do you think?" 

Rosalina looked around and admired the wonders of Mexico City. Unsurprisingly, the weather was warm, and the familiar whiff of churros filled the warm air.

"Dad, it's better than I ever imagined!" 

"Can you still remember what it was like since the last time you were here?"

"Only a bit, Uncle. You know how forgetful you are during your early childhood"

"Rosalina, you were ten"

"Yeah, but Dad? When you're ten, you don't exactly pay attention to what's going on around you....well, in my case you don't pay attention" 

"Smart like her Mother!" 

Alfonso ruffled her hair as I cringed at the word 'Mother'. I hated the topic of Rosa being brought up, because even now, I still miss her and wondered, ' if I hadn't let her go out, she would still be here and so would Alejandro and Fiona.

I forcefully refrained back tears to avoid making a scene.

Alfonso entertained us by showing us most of the stores and buildings. He also mentioned that if it were the season of The All Souls and Saints days, the celebrations would be inevitable and the streets would be more crowded and festive then it was today.

As we ventured through the streets of the city, we happened to come across several street acts such as dancing, drawing and acrobatics. 

But the one that happened to pique my interest was an old man in a wooden chair and a hat perched in front of him.

"Gather around, tourists and citizens! It's my pleasure during this fine day of the month of Febrero!" The man bellowed in a somewhat husky voice. 

"A storyteller" Rosalina said "They aren't very common in Idaho" 

We moved closer to the storyteller. The three of us passed through the crowd surrounding the man until we came to the front, only a few feet away from the storyteller sitting in his wooden chair.

We stayed there for what seemed like hours and hours, just listening to his stories about heroism, humour and romance. The crowds applauded, and after each story they anxiously waited for another, regardless of the warm climates and the hours that have gone by. Just the mere simplicity of this man caught their attention, and it was wonderful. 

This man would often remind me of a preacher after every story he told, whether it exciting or suspenseful.

That was, until....

"Now, the next story will be a classic tale. A very classic tale that has passed down from generation to generation"

I perked my ears, waiting for him to begin his next story,

"This story is called the La llorona" 

No. Not this again.

I glanced at Alfonso, he motioned towards Rosalina. As much as we wanted to go, she wanted to stay and listen to the wonders of the story.

She hasn't enjoyed her self since.....well, you know. And I couldn't take her away from here.

We stood there as we listened to the story again, watching Rosalina's facial expressions as she heard each sentence, her eyes wide with fright, yet with mere fascination.

"But, there is a superstition to the story. They say if you see her, or even hear her cry, it is a sign of a bad omen, and either you or someone in your family will be marked!"

Bad omen..her wail..

Then it all made sense. 

The woman..I saw her.

She wailed in my presence..which meant a bad omen.

And it was.. Thirty two years later I lost my wife.

I lost my wife to a superstition. I lost my wife and children..

I lost a family to a superstition.

At that point, neither of us could take it anymore, and taking Rosalina by both arms, we led her back to the van.

                                                                          ************

Later that night, I sat beside Rosalina for a while before she went to bed. Those stories were horrifying. Even more if you had supposedly seen the apparition.

Supposedly..

Rosalina stared up at me, then she stood up into sitting position.

"Dad, did anyone ever tell you that story?" 

"Yeah. When I was little. But I've forgotten about it since then", I looked at Rosalina and studied her exasperated expression, " Your Uncle told me about it today when we visited the lake. I couldn't remember that story, because Mama refused to talk about it"

"Dad? The stories they tell, are they true?"

Her Hazel eyes began to twinkle, a genetic trait she and her Mother have shared. And at that moment, I knew I couldn't tell her the truth. See, those stories were in fact, true. And there was something eerie about her Mother that she didn't know. 

Something that I wasn't so aware of..until now.