For the first couple of days, I thought of what to say to Aaron. The baby is gone. Can we go back to normal? Is any part of you relieved? But too many days have gone without him popping up or calling, and I’m pissed. I go to his house to tell him off, but his mother answers the door. She makes the same face she did months ago when she walked in and started yelling at Aaron for having strangers in her house. But she didn’t care that I was kissing her son on her furniture; she was mad I’d seen her walk in with a stash of weed to sell.
Now, she opens the door a crack. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Aaron. He hasn’t called me in a few days.”
She sucks her teeth, says, “He’s in jail. Don’t come here no more,” and slams the door.
Instead of heading home, I go to the library. Aaron’s mom is lying. She doesn’t want me distracting him from running the streets to help pay her bills. But I type his name in the prison database, and there it is, right in front of my face. It doesn’t say he was arrested for selling drugs—it says he was charged with armed robbery. He’s being held without bail. This isn’t selling drugs to survive; this is something else.
The vieja behind me is waiting on me to get up from the computer, and she’s all grunts and moans. She strikes the bottom of my chair with her foot at the same time the realization strikes me. This is because of the spell. I used magic to make Aaron stop selling drugs. I did this. The consequence for interfering with his God-given free will made him turn around and do something far worse. The vieja kicks the chair again. She’s lucky we’re in a library. She’s lucky Mami taught me to respect my elders because I want to scream.
Back at home, I’m eager to take a seat beside Victor on the couch while he and Mami are reading passages. She doesn’t ask why I’m late coming home, and I’m thankful because I feel too heartbroken to lie. I might tell her the man who knocked me up is in jail and has no idea we aren’t having a baby anymore. I might tell her because of me messing with magic, I may have condemned him to a different fate than the one originally meant for him. Mami’s pleased I want to study, and I’m happy to ignore my confusion over the Bible if it means I can be with her and Victor, feeling like a part of a thing we’ve all shared, close to the love of God, who helped get us through the pain of Papi being deported. And right now, I hope God will look into my soul and forgive me for not knowing exactly what I need to be forgiven for. But then Victor starts to read the first passage and Mami stops him and points at my chest. “What is that?”
My body stiffens. I forgot to tuck the necklace into my shirt before coming inside. Mami stands from the big couch to get closer. “Tell me before I rip it from your neck.”
“It was Jasmine’s,” I rush to say. “Her sister wanted me to have something of hers.”
Mami’s nose flares. “But I’ve seen people wear those before. People who pray to gods that don’t exist and worship the devil.”
“You know Jasmine wasn’t like that, Mami. She probably thought it was pretty.”
Mami exhales and backs away from me. “You’re right. She was a Catholic. God rest her soul.” Mami sits and smooths the page of her Bible over. “But why would she own that?”
“It’s just a rock, Mami. A pretty rock.”
“It is cool-looking,” Victor pipes in.
Mami cuts him a look. “I understand why you have it, but do you have to wear it?”
I take it off and put it in my pocket, but the warmth I felt from wearing it starts to dissipate. There’s an uptick of energy around us in an instant. I close my eyes and open them. Try to focus on Mami, on Victor, on the Bible in my lap.
Mami nods. “Read the next passage, Inez.”