The Beauty of Death Vol.1

Finding Water to Catch Fire-1

FINDING WATER TO CATCH FIRE

by Linda AddisonFanya came to as she sank in the cold river. She was strapped in her wheelchair and couldn’t think clearly enough to unlatch the seat belt. Then two voices started talking in her head.

They always say it’s an accident.

Mami Wata, how many have died as accidents in your water?

Many more than I like to remember, Atabey, said Mami Wata.

This one carries powerful Taíno ancestors in her, Atabey said.

And African, Mami Wata added. She may be exactly who we need to help restore some balance.

Perhaps, if she can find her strength, Atabey said.

The two women’s voices faded as Fanya lost consciousness again, water filling her lungs.

Fanya coughed violently. The stinging sensation of water being drawn out of her lungs made her shake her head, which brought waves of pain. Her right hand went to the side of her head. She slowly opened her eyes. A full moon lit the river in front of her. She was on the grassy section of the Three Rivers waterfront park. She looked at her hand and saw blood.

Water ran like an army of ants, down from her hair, clothes, over her wheelchair into the ground. What is going on? She must be dead. Was this heaven or hell?

“Neither, although that has been debated by many,” a woman’s deep voice whispered in Fanya’s ear.

Fanya slowly turned to her right. A tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a white gown stood next to her with intricate loops of braids on her head. Dots of gold created curved patterns on her forehead and cheeks. The woman smiled, a gold nose ring reflected in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful woman Fanya had ever seen.

“Who…who are you?” Fanya asked slowly.

“I have been called Mami Wata.” The woman reached to touch Fanya’s head.

Fanya flinched, expecting pain, but the woman’s fingers were a cool gentle breeze against the wound. The throbbing in her head stopped. Mami Wata lowered her hand, which was covered in blood for a second before the red fluid soaked into her skin. Mami Wata closed her eyes, lowered her head. When she lifted it, Fanya saw a flash of gold light in the woman’s eyes.

“As I said, Atabey, there are strong African ancestors in her, at least one priestess,” Mami Wata looked to Fanya’s left.

“And Taíno,” another woman said, her voice soft as a child’s.

Fanya turned. A young woman stepped out of the shadow of a nearby tree into the moonlight. Atabey wore a sleeveless blue and green jumpsuit, covered in patterns that reminded Fanya of a map. An intricate tattoo laced along her arms and neck like some kind of sea creature with long tentacles that glowed against her mocha skin. Her long dark hair hung in curly waves around her face and shoulders. Red, brown, and gold leaves were caught in her hair, as if she had rolled in a pile of fall foliage, but it was early spring.

Fanya rolled the wheelchair’s push rims to back away from the women. “I don’t know what’s happening here. I must be seeing things. I-I hit my head.” She stopped moving. “I fell and hit my head.”

“Do you remember how you fell?” Mami Wata asked, her eyes holding Fanya’s attention as sure as if she held her hands.

Fanya pushed the wheel locks on, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. Atabey stepped next to Mami Wata, with the moonlight to their backs Fanya couldn’t see the details of their faces, but the eyes of both glowed with a soft light.

“To see truth you must release denial, Fanya.” Atabey held out her fist. As she slowly opened her hand, Fanya threw up in the grass over the side of her wheelchair.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was with Peter,” she said, gasping. “We were arguing.”

“Again,” Mami Wata said.

Fanya nodded. “He hit me…again,” she said. “He promised he wouldn’t after the last time, but he loses control when he’s angry.”

“Yes,” Atabey said, kneeling next to Fanya. When Atabey put her hand over Fanya’s, her stomach convulsed, but there was nothing left to vomit.

“He knocked me over and I-I hit my head on a table,” Fanya touched the side of her healed head. “I don’t remember anything else, just being in the river, and then here with you two.”

“How do you suppose you ended up in the river?” Mami Wata put her fists on her hips. Something slithered in her hair.

“It had to be an accident. Peter wouldn’t purposely throw me in the water. He must have thought I was dead and panicked. He—”

“—loves you.” Atabey spat the words out like poison.

Fanya opened her mouth, then slumped back against her seat.

“His love comes with bruises, cutting words, and apologies,” Atabey said, tightening her grip on Fanya’s hand.

“Ending with your death,” Mami Wata said, folding her arms across her chest. A milk-colored snake slid out of her hair and wrapped itself loosely around her neck.

Fanya pulled her hand from Atabey’s grip. “My death?” she asked, looking around. Fanya saw moving cars on the distant Thirty-First Street Bridge but no one else in the park, no boats on the Allegheny River. She put her hands over her eyes. “You two aren’t real. I must be dreaming.” When Fanya opened her eyes again they were still standing in front of her.

“The water in your blood called to the water spirits of the Earth, Fanya.” Mami Wata put her left arm around Atabey’s shoulder. “Here, on this land of much denial, so many lives have been taken in the name of love for things and people.”

“We offer you a gift,” Atabey said, “We can teach you what you have forgotten, the power of your ancestors.”

“Or we can return you to your death,” Mami Wata added, slowly lifting her right arm as Atabey lifted her left.

Muddy water pooled at Fanya’s feet, crept up her legs, crawled around the bottom of her wheelchair, soaking up through her sweatpants, the edges of her jacket. There was no feeling of wetness until it reached her waist where the nerve damage ended from her spina bifida. She couldn’t move her arms to maneuver away from them. The memory of drowning came to her like a lightning bolt.

“Wait-wait-please,” Fanya yelled. The cold water stopped at her chest.

“Yes?” Atabey asked.

“I don’t know if I believe this, but I don’t want to drown again.” She shook her head. “Please.”

“Then you accept our gift?” Atabey asked.

“Yes,” Fanya said, taking a deep breath.

Both women lowered their arms. The water flowed off Fanya, back into the ground until she was dry and able to move her upper body again.

“Where things end is where they begin,” Atabey said, walking past Fanya, away from the river, toward the city.

Fanya turned the wheelchair more easily than she expected. It moved as if she was on a polished floor. She looked down and saw no indentation of her wheels in the grass. Mami Wata walked past her, trailing the scent of the sea. Fanya spun the push rims forward once and her wheelchair glided up the hill, past both women, to the paved path. She barely had to touch the right rim to stop; a gentle forward move of the left turned her to face the women or whatever they were, as they reached the path. Fanya felt like she had been flying.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” Atabey said to Fanya.

“I don’t know about that,” Fanya replied, “but I’ve never felt so strong before. Usually I would be out of breath coming up a hill like that. I don’t feel tired at all. This must be a dream.”

Mami Wata pulled a beautiful hand mirror from the fold of her dress and handed it to her. “There’s unlimited strength in you, and beauty.”

Fanya shook her head and laid the mirror face down on her lap. The back of the mirror was gold, covered in a pattern of inlaid turquoise, pearls, and diamonds that resembled a series of waves topped with foam. “I don’t like to look in mirrors.”

Mami Wata caressed Fanya’s cheek. “If this is a dream, what is there to fear?”

Fanya turned the mirror over with her left hand and saw the sky reflected in it. Morning light softened the night with light blue streaks. She slowly turned it toward her face. Instead of the uneven complexion, dull hair, sad eyes, and lackluster skin the color of weak tea, she saw a beautiful young woman.

She barely recognized her reflection, the thick swirl of hair that reflected the rising sunlight, full lips glowing like red earth, and eyes bright as starlight. “This must be a magic mirror. I’ve never looked like this.”

“Perhaps you weren’t looking with your heart,” Atabey said. “Maybe you’ve been seeing yourself through the lens of others’ expectations.”

“Maybe.” Fanya tried to give the mirror back to Mami Wata.

“Keep it, as a birthday gift from me,” she said, waving her hand. “I have many more. Now let’s go.”

Both women started walking on the path to the left.

Fanya put the mirror in the side pocket of her wheelchair. “Where are we going? My apartment is in the other direction.” She pointed right.

“We’re going somewhere else first,” Atabey replied, without turning around.

Fanya started to speak but decided to follow them since they didn’t seem to be influenced by her opinion, especially since it took little to no effort to maneuver the wheelchair.

By the time they reached the main street the sun was up. A few people passed them, entering the park to jog. Delivery trucks and a few cars were on the road. As the city woke, Fanya expected the dream to end and she would wake in the hospital or even in her own bed, the nightmare over, but no sign of reality made the two women fade. Fanya was used to being invisible in her wheelchair, or people being overly polite, but no one glanced at the two regal women.

As they moved through the streets to a neighborhood she rarely visited, Fanya asked, “Mami Wata, can others see you?”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “If we want them to.”

They turned the corner and stopped in front of a motel.

“Let’s wait in the shade,” Atabey said, pointing to an island of trees and bushes on the edge of the parking lot.

“What are we waiting for?” Fanya asked, easily bumping over the low curb to the trees.

“Do you recognize any of these cars?” Mami Wata stroked the snake draped over her shoulders.

Fanya looked over the ten or fifteen parked cars. She was about to ask why when she noticed a car near them that was the same model as Peter’s. One look at the license told her it was his. “Why would Peter be here?”

“That’s a question you should ask him.” Mami Wata pointed to the second floor balcony.

A room door opened and a tall, brown-skinned man stepped out, his arms around a woman clearly n***d under a semi-sheer, red robe. He stopped in the doorway to kiss her, taking his time while he pressed her against the door frame. The woman finally pushed him away, laughed and shut the door.

“I can’t believe he’s with another woman after-after…” Fanya couldn’t finish. Her nails bit into her palms. This man, whom she thought so good-looking, whose attention she believed herself so lucky to have, didn’t seem at all bothered after dumping her body in the river last night.

“After thinking he killed you,” Atabey said calmly.

As he walked to his car, Fanya rolled out of the shade to him. She reached the passenger door at the same time he unlocked the car. He didn’t notice her until he sat behind the steering wheel and she yanked the opposite door open.

“Oh my God, Fanya?” He pushed himself against the closed door. “I thought—”

“You thought I was dead?” Fanya quickly slid into the seat next to him, folded her chair with one hand, and threw it over the front seat into the back. It felt light as paper to her.

“How did you do that?” Peter asked.

Fanya shrugged, putting on the seat belt. “We need to talk. Let’s take a drive.”

“Um, sure.” Peter’s hands shook as he lit a cigarette. “I can explain everything, Fanya. I-I—”

“Drive to Almono,” she said, her voice hard.

“Where?” he asked.

“The old steel mill site on Hazelwood’s riverfront.” Fanya looked straight ahead.

“Can’t we go to your place and talk?”

“Almono. Now.” She pounded the dashboard with her fist.

“What the hell!” Peter turned the key in the ignition. “I’ve never seen you act like this.”

“Drive,” she said, without looking at him. “We’ll talk when we get there.”

As they took off Fanya looked behind in the backseat. The two women were sitting next to her folded wheelchair. Mami Wata nodded at her. She didn’t know if it was their power or her anger but she felt energy charging through her body. They drove the ten minutes to the riverfront in silence. Apparently Peter couldn’t see the two women because he didn’t say anything when using the mirror to check traffic behind them.