The Temptation of Demetrio Vigil (29 page)

“You can do that?”

“Sometimes. It’s not part of my assignment, but I
think it’d be a nice thing to help her find him.”

I turned a little more serious at this point. “Are
there lots of you around? Revenants?”

He shrugged. “I know some. I see ‘em. La Llorona is
the worst.”

I balked. I’d heard of La Llorona, a famous legend
around New Mexico. “Isn’t that the lady who drowned her own kids,
and wanders the ditches and rivers at night?” I asked him.

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Did she really kill her kids?”

“Yeah, man. But she ain’t crying ‘bout that no more.
She had post-partum depression, mamita, you know what that is?”

“When women get crazy after they have a baby, from
hormones.”

“Yep. She had that, and an abusive husband, and she
was stupid. The Maker and mayordomos decided to let her linger, but
she’s been lazy. That’s why she’s crying.” He laughed and shook his
head in disbelief. “She’s been lingering for hundreds of years, but
is too lazy to do any good deeds. She wants to, but she can’t find
the energy, so she cries.”

“Sounds like she needs medication.”

He laughed loudly at this. “Yeah, maybe she does.
She’s a depressed soul. Yeah. That’s about right. She’s selfish,
too, and don’t want to move on.”

“She’s not helping anyone,” I said. “Why is she
allowed to linger?”

“Ah, but she
is
helping. Think about it, Maria.
Parents tell their kids she’s gonna get them if they go near the
rivers or if they go out at night alone. Then the kids see her, or
hear her crying, and they believe in her, and they stay away from
danger. Funny thing is, she killed her own kids, but she’s saved a
bunch of others.”

“Why doesn’t she get good deed credit for that?”

“Because it’s a passive good she’s doing, not an
active good. She’s incredibly passive, La Llorona, but we’ve had
some good talks. She’s a’ight.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Word. You want to meet her? She
ain’t hard to find. She’s freakin’
loud
.”

I shrugged, because even though I did not want to
meet La Llorona, I didn’t want to offend Demetrio by letting him
know ghosts - other than him, of course - scared me.

“Are people surrounded by ghosts?”

“Maybe.”

“The frozen cows, do they count as a good deed for
you, even though they’re not in your jurisdiction, so to
speak?”

“Yes. Which reminds me,” he said, he held up a
finger in a “eureka” motion. He pulled the little gold notebook and
strange quill pen from his pocket, and jotted something down in it.
He didn’t let me see what he was writing.

“What are you doing?”

“Recording the deed, for posterity,” he said with
mock pomp and what sounded like a fake British accent.

“Who keeps track?”

“The Maker. The mayordomos. Some other beings.
Everything is accounted for.” He looked up at me apologetically.
“This little book here, it’s nifty cuz it uploads directly to the
universe, like the fastest computer connection ever.”

“It looks like a dusty old notebook.”

“That’s the best part. Okay. Hey. It’s getting late,
sweet. You better get home.”

“But I need you,” I whined, clinging to him. He
smiled at me, and held me gently.

“I need you too,” he said. “But
here’s the good news, mami. I
have
you, and you have me. Time and distance don’t
matter now. We got each other now. Forever.”

“How many deeds do you have left,” I asked, suddenly
realizing that once he’d completed them, he’d be gone from
here.

“About 600,” he said.

“You’re about halfway done.”

“Yeah. Just about.”

“And what happens when you finish them?” I braced
for an answer I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear.

“I move on.”

“Without me,” I said, devastated.

“I’ll see you again.”

I began to cry. “This sucks,” I said.

“No it don’t, Maria. You think so
now, but there’s so much you don’t know yet.”

“Teach me.”

“I will, but not right now. Right now, your mom is
turning to wine to fill a void you’re helping create in her. Humans
can do good in the world, every bit as much as lingering souls like
me. But you gotta pay attention to what’s going on around you. Be
willing to give more often than take.”

“My mom is
drinking again
?” I said in
disbelief.

“She’s scared,” he said. “And alone. She’s been
doing it more lately. She thinks the worst about you, it messes her
up inside. Now, go to her and prove her fears wrong.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Stop worrying, Maria. This is a
day to celebrate finding each other. I’m yours. I’ll find you soon.
I have to trust you not to come looking for me now that you know
what’s at stake.”

“I get it.”

“Cool. Now go.”

“Why can’t I ever find
you
?” I
asked.

“’
Cuz I’m the dead guy, ‘member?”
he replied with a grin.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Go, mami.” He kissed me one last
time, and gave my butt a little smack. “Get out of here already. Go
do your thing this week, with finals. I won’t bug you.”

“But I want you to bug me.”

“You should probably focus on school.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I’ll see you soon. Get out of here.” He kissed me
one last time, and then, hard as it was to go, I did what he
commanded. I got out of there. I went home.

♦

Valiantly though Yazzie tried, she was
unable to keep me from ending up in the headmaster’s office after
all. Friday came around, and with it my last final exam and a
meeting in said person’s luxurious and well-appointed office, with
its leather chairs and Persian rugs. My mother was there, as were
Logan and his parents. My mother hardly noticed me, so busy was he
kissing Logan’s father’s posterior. She’d read about him in the
paper, she’d seen him at a board meeting, she thought he was 100
percent right about the President in his op-ed in the Sunday
Journal, etc, etc.

Headmaster Green, a man of nearly seventy who had
seen and dealt with a lot of problems in his educational career and
seemed all that much more mellow and forgiving for it, was
thankfully a more even-keeled person, practiced in the arts of
diplomacy and patience. He explained that he was concerned for my
safety, given the reckless disregard Logan had displayed for my
privacy by posting personal information on a Web site whose
contents were “well known on campus and at this point
much-discussed and perhaps even a polarizing issue among their
fellow students.”

“Well, that’s easy to solve, isn’t
it?” my mother asked. “Maria, if you just stop cavorting with that
shady gang member, putting yourself and everyone at Coronado Prep
in danger, and come back to your senses, this could all go
away.”

Headmaster Green looked at me with sympathy, but
knew better than to openly challenge my mother.

“I like Demetrio,” I said. “And he’s not a gang
member. Plus, I’m almost 18 years old. I don’t think it’s anyone’s
business in this room who I date.”

“Privacy is very important to us all,” said
Headmaster Green. “I think we can all agree to that.”

“You are mistaken. A minor child has no rights to
privacy if criminal elements are involved,” hissed my mother.

“He’s not a criminal. He’s a good person. You are
unbelievably shallow, mom.”

“Logan? Your site should be down by this evening,
correct?” said Headmaster Green.

“It’s for her own good,” said Logan. “But if you
want it down, I’ll take it down.”

“I’m not getting back together with you,” I told
him. “You can’t force me to, and you can’t bully me into it.”

Headmaster Green sighed and laced his fingers
together on top of his desk. “Let the record show that I’ve asked
both students here to remove all offending materials from the
Internet immediately, or face possible expulsion from school,” he
said.

My mother gasped and put he hand to her throat.

“Expulsion?” she asked, expressing
the shock that eluded even Logan’s parents, who seemed to have a
more stoic - and sneaky - attitude about this whole thing. “If that
were to happen, if would have to stay hush-hush, of
course
. I couldn’t - I
mean, we couldn’t - possibly have my daughter’s expulsion from
Coronado Prep be made public, no. Impossible. I think there is some
fundraising money that might not be available otherwise, for the
new playing fields.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Ms. Romero,” said
Headmaster Green, scarcely able to conceal his contempt for her.
“But fundraising issues are of no concern to me in the disciplining
of students.”

“Well, they should be.”

“So I’ve heard, more than once, and yet, Ms. Romero,
they are not.”

“You’ll regret that,” said my mother.

Headmaster Green ignored her,
turning his attention to me now. “And Maria, I’ll ask that you
remove the site you’ve put up in reaction to Logan’s
site.”

I didn’t bother to deny Kelsey’s was mine. She was a
great friend who had protected me, and I would take the fall for
her.

“Consider it done,” I said.

“I want all posts to social networking sites about
this matter by either one of you deleted immediately as well. No
photos, no blog posts, no comments, nothing. We have zero tolerance
for cyber bullying at this school, and as I’m sure you can imagine,
this sort of behavior by our students sullies the name of this
venerated institution.”

“We understand,” I said.

“You’ve made your points, Green,” said Logan’s
father, standing up pompously to leave, leading with his
substantial potbelly. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Headmaster Green looked at me and Logan
sternly. “You are both suspended for one week upon resumption of
classes in January.”

Logan’s parents shook hands with
my mom, and my mother absurdly apologized to them -
apologized
. As my mother
and I walked toward the parking lot, she informed me that I was to
be grounded for three weeks.

♦

I drove home alone, spilling my guts to
Kelsey, who was preparing for an early morning flight to New York
to spend the holiday with her family in Manhattan. I called
Demetrio, but got voicemail. It made me laugh out loud to think
ghosts had voicemail.

When I got home, I shared a
Chinese takeout dinner with my mother in relative silence, trying
not to read too much into the way her fork scraped across the
plate, or how violently she stabbed her orange chicken pieces. I
felt as though I were seeing her - really seeing her - for the
first time, and I didn’t like what I saw. My whole life, she’d been
my hero. The woman I admired most in the world. But upon the topic
of Demetrio - and by default, me making my own choices for myself -
we simply could not agree.

Buddy sat faithfully at my feet, giving me strength
through his quivering excitement - either that, or waiting for a
scrap of food to fall on the floor. I was never quite sure which
with him.

“Well, we should hit the hay,” said my mother
wearily as she cleared the table. “We need to get an early start
tomorrow to get up to the resort in Santa Fe before hitting the
slopes.”

“I thought I was grounded.”

“You are, for things you do alone. But I already
paid for this trip and its very expensive, and completely
nonrefundable, thank you very much. I took time off from work and
rearranged a lot of meetings for you. So you’re going.”

“Fine.”

“I trust you’ll pack your things before bed and be
ready to leave by seven tomorrow.”

“What about Buddy?”

“I have a dog-sitting service arranged. Now, give me
your cell phone. I’ve already had your computer removed from your
room.”

“What? Why?”

“Give me your phone. It’s part of your grounding. No
phone, no Internet.”

“Can I at least tell Kelsey and my other friends I’m
not going to have it, so they don’t think I’m blowing them off if I
don’t answer them this week?”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you
still
have
any
friends with the way you’ve been acting,” she told me. “But no,
sorry. Give me the phone.”

“I can’t even call them? At least a text?”

“You want to reach out to that hoodlum, is that it?”
she asked.

“He has a name. Demetrio. And he’s very nice, mom,
if you’d bother getting to know him.”

“Phone,” she seethed. “Now.”

I did as she asked, though it occurred to me that in
one year’s time I’d be a legal adult and no longer required to do
anything she told me to do. I couldn’t wait.

“Thank
you,” she said, pressing it off and stuffing it in her pants
pocket.

“Don’t read my texts,” I said.

“Not your decision to make, I’m afraid.”

“Mom! What is wrong with you? Why are you treating
me like this?”

“Do not use that tone with me, young lady.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good night, Maria. Seven a-m. Be
up and ready to go.”

I went to bed furious, and woke in no better a mood.
My mother was in her beige ski clothes, including pants that
swished together irritatingly when she walked. She had made
breakfast burritos for us to eat “on the road” in the Lexus SUV. I
went through the motions of loading my suitcase into the car and my
skis onto the roof rack, but I was miserable. I had no way to
communicate with my friends - or with Demetrio. My mother was
evil.

She drove through the cold, clear
morning tight-lipped, without talking much, and we filled the space
with her Celine Dion CDs, which only made things worse, in my
opinion. I watched the desert slide past out the window, and tried
to feel something close to hope. How could I get through winter
break - two long weeks of it - without my
phone
?