[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Itzá is named. These are the sacrificial wells where
Mayan maidens are taken, offered. The wells are full
of such girls and their jewelry and their last songs.
They are led fifty, sixty girls on one day in a pro­
cession along the trail through the jungle. They will
be dressed in white, adorned in flowers and gold,
and thrown into the wells one by one to become the
brides and handmaidens of Quetzalcoatl.
 Perhaps they go willingly, joyfully. Or perhaps
they are drugged, or go by force. But they never rise
again, because the mud at the bottom of the wells is
so thick that whatever goes into it is swallowed for
eternity.
Michelle can see them, the wells small whorls of
dark but shining water cupped by white stone and
vines, flowers dipping their delicate faces into them.
She can see, too, the trails through the brush and
jungle.
She can imagine the girls in their white dresses,
knowing they are on the last walk they will ever take.
She listens.
139
She can hear them a cool, rising ribbon of song
traveling over the centuries to her. The last song of
those girls. Their most beautiful song. And she can
imagine singing that song. She can even imagine
being willing to die for a feathered serpent, a god!
Suddenly, she sees what it is they wanted:
Something powerful, in charge of their souls, a
reason to be alive, and something worth, eventually,
dying for, too.
140
eleven
Anne
A FEW BEAUTIFUL notes suddenly spread themselves
across the green lawn between the tree under which
I stood with the three boys from Illinois and from
the top of the pyramid where Michelle stood with
Ander.
The notes were so bright and delicate that at first
I thought they were coming from the sky, but then I
looked up, saw Michelle, and recognized her voice
instantly.
That music was Michelle.
She was singing.
And we weren t the only ones who d looked up
when we heard those notes, who d stopped every­
thing to listen. All around the pyramid, tourists were
141
standing still, gazing in the direction of that song.
When the music stopped abruptly, the last notes
continued to echo and chime all around Chichén
Itzá the stones and lawn, even the tree under
which we stood seemed to shiver with the echoed
bits of sound and light until they were swallowed
up by the jungle, replaced by silence.
 Is that your friend? Pete asked.
 Yes, I said, still looking in her direction.
 Jesus, he said, and looked over at his friend
Doug. Both of them were sneering.
 Is she nuts? Doug asked. He was shaking his
head. The other boy, Robbie, in the Hotel del Sol
T-shirt, looked equally uncomprehending. It
occurred to me to say, No, she s not nuts. She s a singer,
but it also occurred to me that I was embarrassed
of her, for her.
It had been beautiful, that song, but normal girls
from Illinois high schools did not sing at the tops of
pyramids in public, no matter how beautiful their
voices were. I thought, then, longingly, of Terri, who
would be hanging out happily on the beach by now.
Wearing that bikini. Flirting with a new boy today.
Maybe caught up in a game of volleyball, or having
142
a Sky Juice at the tiki bar. I thought of the way Terri,
easily and simply, would have put on some lipstick
and sunblock before she left the hotel, and how just
about any joke told by the right boy would make her
laugh. Terri, unlike Michelle, did not fall into black
moods that lasted for days. If Dave Ebert had
dumped Terri, she would have laughed. Or, she
would never have gotten involved with a weirdo like
Dave Ebert in the first place.
Why was it that I d attached myself so much
more firmly to Michelle than to Terri, who was, in
every way, a perfectly good friend? An easier friend.
There she d been all these years, perfectly willing to
be my best friend, and I d chosen Michelle instead.
Terri would never have taken this ride from Ander.
Terri would never have wanted to see ancient
ruins more than the beach, the tiki bar, or a disco, in
the first place.
 No, I said.  She s not nuts. But I want to get
her out of here. How did you guys get here? Can you
give us a ride back to the Hotel del Sol?
Doug shrugged.  I guess so, he said.  We rented
a Jeep. It s pretty small. You ll have to sit on each
other s laps.
143
He was rubbing his head again, slowly, and didn t
look very interested in taking us with him in his
Jeep. It seemed strange, since these were three guys
alone in Mexico at the moment, and they d
approached me. It occurred to me that maybe I
looked bad blotchy, sweaty from the drive in
Ander s Renault, and from our hike here from the
Visitors Center. Maybe these guys were here hoping
to find a prettier girl.
Or maybe they were wary now, of Michelle that
singing at the top of the pyramid. Maybe Doug had
decided we were too weird to hang out with. And
neither of the other two boys looked particularly
intrigued by the idea of having our company in their
Jeep back to the hotel either. Pete said to Doug,  I
thought we were going to that party. At the Club
Med. You know. The one close to here.
 Oh, yeah, Doug said.  Wanna go to a party
first?
This time I shrugged.  Sure, I said.  Okay.
Whatever. I just want to get my friend away from
this guy and 
 He s an old dude, Robbie said. He was looking
up at Michelle and Ander, who d begun to walk
144
down the pyramid slowly, carefully, together.
 Yeah, Pete said.  He s after some jailbait pussy.
I took a step backward, and Doug punched Pete
in the shoulder.  Watch your language around the
lady, he said.
Robbie snorted loudly through his nose.
Pete said,  Fuck you, man. I m just tellin it like
it is.
I noticed for the first time that Pete had very [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]