Marina Vista dropped by to visit her sister, Benecia Martinez. “I never get to see you anymore,” she said. “Where is Chilpanchango?”
“You know where he is.”
“In the woods?”
Benecia nodded, setting the fresh guacamole bowl on the dining room table. “If I knew you were coming, I’d have baked you a cake.” She grabbed the tortilla chips, already in a colorful ceramic bowl.
Marina sat down. “This is more than enough. You didn’t have to fix lunch, honey.”
“No problemo, my sister.” Benecia kissed her cheek. “We need to do a little hair removal.” She pointed to a few straggly hairs near Marina’s lip.
“Oh please. Let’s not turn this into a spa day.” She crammed a chip into the guacomole and stuffed it into her mouth. “You look good, been jogging?”
“When I can.” Benecia chugged some Fresca. “Able to hang for a few hours?” She adjusted her bra underneath the fitting black tank top.
Marina nodded, scratching a mosquito bite on her back. “Mmm, these avocados are muy…” She searched for the word as she dipped a lavish amount on another chip.
The back door creaked open.
“Honey?” Benecia called. “Chilpanchango?”
“How can you even tell he’s in here? He’s like the wind, that one.”
Benecia placed her hand over Marina’s. “Shhh, he’ll hear you.”
The boy came to the doorway.
Marina Vista turned around, eyes narrowed. “Chilpanchango, where have you been?”
His huge eyes looked at his feet. “In the woods,” he whispered, his soprano voice wavered.
“And what do you do in those woods, honey?” Marina asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just play.”
She held her arms out. “Come over here and give your Auntie some sugar.”
He walked slowly toward her.
Benecia let out a scream. “Aye yi yi, Chilpanchango. What’s in your pocket?”
His shorts were stained a strange purplish- red color.
Marina Vista shrunk back horrified. “In the name of Christ Almighty-”
“Sis, shut it.” Benecia moved quickly toward Chilpanchango, escorting him out of the room. “Be right back,” she said over her shoulder.
Marina Vista had almost polished the entire batch of guacamole when Benecia returned.
“What happened?” Marina asked. “What was it?”
“Nothing. Just a frog he collected.” Benecia drank more Fresca.
“A frog he collected? You mean a frog he mangled? There was blood.”
“Don’t pick on him, Marina. He’s just a boy.”
Marina shook her head. “That boy of yours, he’s a piece of work.”