Psychopomp: A Novella Read Online Free Page A

waited hours, flinching and anxious, until finally the red-faced little girl arrived. We all went home together before dawn, as Blanca couldn’t afford to stay.
    In the following weeks, a strange sort of peace fell on the house. I drank cold powdered chocolate every morning while Blanca nursed the baby on the couch. Pell would often come over in the mornings after she finished working on the edge of Cizel, before she went to sell her jewelry.
    Sometimes Blanca offered to let me hold the baby, but I didn’t like to. The little body felt so awkward and fragile in my unpracticed arms.
    Mamá was sixteen when she had me, the same age as me now and just one year younger than Blanca. I didn’t know if I’d ever have kids, but it might have been nice, one day, to have someone to hold whenever I wanted. Maybe then it would feel natural. And maybe it would feel like love.
    “He loves me,” Blanca reminded herself from time to time. She wished for Harkin’s return while dreading it at the same time.
    Thinking of Anden’s return, I wrapped myself in mildewed blankets and stayed in bed for hours.
    These were long and lazy days—tense days, because I knew they wouldn’t last.
    Restless, I started going to the docks every day. In late fall, the breezes bit fiercely off the sea but did nothing to lessen the heat. I stared out at the dark water till my eyes ached, and one day my heart sank to see Anden’s boat appearing against the hazy sky.
    I’d known he was coming soon. I shouldn’t have felt so disappointed.
    “That your brother?”
    Behind me, the blond man who’d talked to me before squinted off into the distance.
    “The one on the left,” I said, watching Anden tie up the boat. “With dark hair.”
    “Just like yours. But yours is nicer.” He turned to me and I saw the white lines around his eyes, etched into his tanned skin. “I’m a fisher, too. I don’t got a boat right now, but I been looking for work.”
    He wanted me to put in a word to Anden. I knew he did. But I didn’t offer.
    For a moment the squint softened as he looked at me, maybe waiting for me to say something. Pale sunlight gleamed in thick sections of his hair, its brightness emphasizing the weathered quality of his skin. He wasn’t tall, but his body was lean and wiry from dockwork. I felt my face start to flush.
    His eyelids dipped knowingly. “See ya.” He jerked his chin at me in parting.
    “Adiós,” I said softly as he blended into the crowd.
    I ran home with my heart beating hard. I closed myself in my room, where I hugged my knees and waited.
    Later that afternoon, Anden and Harkin bustled loudly into the house. I could feel the change in the air and see their red faces, smell their old fish smell. As I listened to them bang around downstairs, I began counting the days till they’d go again into the wild rising seas, seeking their fortunes and leaving me alone.
    From below, my brother bellowed my name ominously.
    He waited for me in the middle of the living room, a storm in his dark brown eyes. Harkin was washing his face in the kitchen sink. I kept an anxious eye on the amount of water he used.
    “You know you’re s’posed to clean up while I’m gone,” Anden said, exhausted and irritable. He swept an arm along the table, upsetting a stack of the colorful flyers I’d collected from the streets. I watched them flutter to the matted carpet, my face blank.
    “Lo siento,” I said.
    Blanca had left a dirty glass by the couch. Anden picked it up and threw it against the living room wall, leaving behind a splotch of wetness. A shower of shards glistened on the carpet.
    “Qué?” Anden turned on me in a rage. “You’re sorry you sit on your fat ass all day and do nothing, while I slave out there on the water just to bring a few credits to this house? Is that why you’re sorry? Do you know how depressing it is to come home from months on a filthy boat to a filthy house?”
    “I cleaned the bathrooms yesterday.”
    “Oh,