The Witch's Market (9 page)

10

Sabrina Sanchez

A
fter Alfredo and Diego left, Sabrina smiled at me insinuatingly. Under her heavy makeup I could see little red veins on her nose and cheeks. The skin of her upper breasts that she was so generously revealing was freckled from years in the sun.

She smiled flirtatiously. “I love parties, but then I get bored quickly—isn't that strange?”

I shrugged. “It's okay.”

“My whole life is a bore. My husband's long gone. I'm getting old and I've been sleeping around too much for too long. Diego is my new conquest—the best I can do at this point in my life.”

Before I could respond to her surprising outburst, she spoke again. “I picked him up in a bar. Half my age, but he's willing to hang out with me. You know why?”

I was pretty sure I knew what he was getting from her. But I was curious, so I shook my head.

“Let me tell you. Men, especially someone like Diego who doesn't have much going for him, think they can find paradise in an older, sexually experienced woman like me. You know, men's eyes will bleed when their nose smells free sex.”

I was surprised by her frankness, but I realized that her several glasses of champagne might have something to do with it.

“I'm a bad woman and I could never settle down with just one man,” she continued. “Believe it or not, I used to be so beautiful that heads would turn whenever I'd pass. Now I only want to have a little more fun before my time is up.”

“You're still beautiful, Sabrina.”

It wasn't a complete lie. I could only comment on her beauty, but not her time left. I thought she might attract better men if she did not come on so strong and left more of herself to their imagination.

“You think so?”

I nodded. Staring at her big, watery eyes, I felt I had to be reassuring to this troubled woman. But I thought to myself that she was more sexy than beautiful.

“Thank you. I like you, Eileen, you're very kind. Not many people are kind these days, especially women. I tell you, there's no sisterhood, not in the past, now, or in the future. It's always been every woman for herself, ha!”

Her sisterhood remark led me to think of Empress Dowager Ci Xi, China's notorious ruler in the late nineteenth century. The real empress, An, kept a note from the emperor allowing her to kill Ci Xi, should she become a threat. But Ci Xi was tender and supportive to the lonely empress.

One day when she was sick, Ci Xi supposedly cut off her own flesh and put it in healing soup for Empress An. In gratitude, Empress An burned the note giving her the power to have Ci Xi killed. From that day on, Ci Xi was relentlessly cruel to the empress, who died of poisoning not long after.

I didn't think most women were evil like Ci Xi, but I did know that Sabrina was not the sort of woman who is appreciated by other women.

“Eileen, I'd like you to be my friend, so tell me about yourself,” said Sabrina.

I explained that I was a professor here to research witches but offered nothing about my personal life.

“Impressive! A learned woman and a writer!” she said, then scribbled on a napkin and handed it to me. “I live a little south of this castle, not too far. Please come visit so we can talk more.”

“I'll try.” But I was not at all sure she was someone I would want as a friend.

She cast me a pretend irritated look. “Please! For God's sake, won't you?”

“All right, then, I will.”

“And don't wait too long!”

“I'm not sure how much longer I will be here.”

“Don't ever lose a chance to make friends. Trust me, I'm an old woman speaking from experience. Be sure you'll keep your promise—life is short and I don't have much of it left.”

“What about Diego?”

“He's just a pet. You know what I mean. I have a sad life.”

I was starting to tire of her self-pity, but I was also curious to know more about the dead husband she'd just mentioned, and of course also her relationship with Alfredo. But I felt I should wait until she was ready to confide. It turned out that I did not have to wait long.

“My husband killed himself, my only daughter died, and my only son disappeared.”

Now I really was sorry for her—so many tragedies in one woman's life.

She gulped down more wine, sucked at her cigarette, then went on. “If you're willing to come visit a lonely woman and keep her company over a glass of wine, then I'll tell you the rest of my story.” She winked, adding, “And about Alfredo and me.”

My ears perked up. But I feared I was neglecting my plan to gather material on witches and witchcraft. However, I was intrigued by the woman and did not see any reason to refuse her invitation to visit.

“Don't think about it too much, just come. Now my limbs feel itchy, so I need to find someone to dance with. Hopefully a stud, ha!”

Sabrina stood up abruptly, and, after throwing me a lopsided smile, went to search for her next mark.

Alfredo soon returned without Diego. His mood was much more subdued and I felt sorry that his party had been spoiled by this intruder. But his interest in me seemed to have grown during even this short absence. I knew I would disappoint him and tried to think of a way to let him down gently. All I could do was say that I was still jet-lagged and, while I'd enjoyed his lavish party, the music and champagne had given me a headache. I thanked him for lending me the gown and told him I needed to sleep.

 

The next morning I awoke to Maria's loud knocking.

“Señorita Eileen, breakfast is ready. Please come with me. Señor Alfrenso is already waiting.”

When we entered the kitchen, Alfredo was pouring juice and buttering toast. The coffee grinder made a pleasing sound as the smell of the exotic beans reached my nostrils. After Maria left, Alfredo gestured me to sit and shoveled scrambled eggs and sausage onto my plate.

“I hope you enjoyed the party—sorry you were not feeling well and had to leave early. Do you feel okay now?”

I nodded. “Just jet lag and being in a new place.”

Sipping my coffee and munching my toast, I could not help wondering about Sabrina. I had no reason to believe she was one of the witches, yet I felt I was under her spell. She was not easy to like, yet I was curious to know more about her—her youth when she turned heads, her relationship with Alfredo, the tragedy with her husband and children.

Since Alfredo's interest in me was getting more apparent, I didn't feel entirely comfortable staying with him any longer. I decided to speak up.

“Alfredo, you've been very kind to me, but I fear I am imposing. Anyway, I need to work on my research.”

My host looked disappointed as he put down his coffee. “Why are you in such a hurry? You know you're most welcome to stay as long as you wish. This castle is at your disposal, not to mention that I greatly enjoy your company.”

I smiled warmly. “I appreciate that, but I came here to write my book.”
And not to have parties and befriend an older man,
I thought to myself.

“Why not stay here while you are writing your book? You know, there are many rooms we don't use. You can pick any one you like and I'll have Maria fix it up for you.”

It was a good idea, especially because it would be free.

“But, Alfredo . . .” I searched his eyes.

“What are you afraid of? You know I'm a gentleman.”

“But . . . we hardly know each other.”

“I understand,” he said, and then, after thinking for a while, added, “Of course you must have someone back in the States, right?”

“Yes and no.” I sighed. “I'm here for research. My personal life is back in California.”

“Yes, of course, you're a very smart and capable young lady. I've gotten very fond of you. How could I not?”

He kept leading back to where I did not want to go. So as much to change the subject as anything else, I said, “I chatted a little with Sabrina. Can you tell me more about her?”

My host didn't look happy. “She's an old acquaintance. I didn't invite her; she crashed the party. The woman is nothing but trouble. My advice is stay away from her.”

It was pretty obvious that he did not want to tell me anything about her. But I still tried to coax a little more from him.

“Sabrina told me she has had a sad life. She said her husband killed himself and that she lost her son and daughter.”

“She told you all this? Eileen, don't believe a word coming from that woman's mouth. She's a witch anyway.”

My ears perked up on hearing the word
witch.

“So what she told me isn't true?”

Alfredo's expression turned serious. “Some things are better left alone.”

“All right, Alfredo. You know, I really think I should go back to the hotel to work on my notes. There are too many distractions here. I also need to rest and explore other places. After that, I'll come back for a visit. How's that?”

“Well, if you must leave, I know a small hotel nearby. They always have rooms available. I'll have my driver, Adam, take you.”

I was sure Alfredo still had hopes of something more from me, but a nearby cheap hotel seemed like the best answer, so I thanked him and went up to my room to pack.

My new room at the hotel was small and threadbare, but it was clean and quiet. So much had happened in just a few days that I welcomed the chance to be left alone and clear my brain. As I lay on the sagging bed, I kept thinking of my recent encounters with Alfredo and his oddly named Heartbreak Castle, the dancing witches, the old sculptor, the pathetic Sabrina and Diego, her “pet.” I decided I would definitely pay Sabrina a visit, but not right away. I needed a break and also wanted to organize my notes and pictures. After that, I'd take it easy for a day or two.

11

Signs from the Cracked Earth

T
he next day, after a quick shower, I went to the hotel lobby and asked the receptionist for directions to the nearest village market. I felt the need for fresh, wholesome food after drinking too much wine and eating too much meat at the castle. After a short walk I arrived at the market and strolled around, admiring the food and watching the other customers.

I bought some grapes, strawberries, a bag of nuts, and freshly squeezed orange juice in a tall paper cup. Tables were clustered at the edge of the market under a tall tree. I sat down and ate while watching the people around me.

As I was finishing, I noticed two young men walking in my direction. They looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place them right away. Soon they sat down at a table not too far from mine, ordered, and began to eat and drink with gusto as soon as their food arrived.

When they noticed me staring, one of them leaned toward me and smiled. “Miss, how are you? Do you remember us? We met on the ferry to Tenerife Island, then at the café near the Witches' Market. I'm Kyle and this is my younger brother, Ed.”

I hit my head. “Yes, of course! I'm Eileen Chen. I'm surprised to see you two again.”

The two exchanged a meaningful glance.

The younger brother, Ed, rounded his eyes. “Oh, Eileen . . . maybe you haven't heard . . .”

“Heard what?”

“Something very strange . . . a couple of days ago . . .”

Something in his tone made me anxious. “What happened?”

“A man and a dog. Lhasa Apso, a rare breed. We were just walking along and right before our eyes . . . the road seemed to crack open and they fell in.”

“Who?”

“The man and the dog.”

“You saw this?”

“Yes, a woman saw it too.”

“What happened?”

“The earth closed back up. It was as if they'd never been there. It was terrible. Hard to believe—but we both saw it.”

“This really happened?”

“Yes—about twenty blocks north of here in a deserted park.”

His brother went on to explain. “I think the man is homeless, so there's no one to report him missing. There's been nothing in the papers or on TV either.”

“Hmmm . . . Maybe you should report it to the police. . . .”

Kyle shook his head. “They'll probably think we're just crazy. Or think we did it and arrest us.”

“Arrest you? But you didn't do anything.”

Both Kyle and Ed nodded emphatically.

“Exactly. You know us, but the police don't. The police here have a bad reputation. Better to stay away from them,” said Kyle.

“Anyway, we'll be gone from here soon and who knows if we'll ever be back,” Ed added.

“What about the woman who also saw it—maybe she reported it to the police?”

“I don't know. We think the dog was probably hers, but instead of trying to look for it, she just hurried away.”

Kyle took out a pen, wrote on a small piece of paper, and handed it to me. “Here's our hotel number if you want to call us. Maybe we'll run into each other again. It's a small world, after all. Good to see you again, Eileen. Enjoy your breakfast.”

With an odd feeling lodged in my chest, I continued to think as I finished my breakfast. Every day I spent on this out-of-the-way island made it seem stranger. The brothers themselves seemed odd. I half suspected that they'd made the whole thing up, but why would they bother?

Because of Laolao's profession, I'd grown up around weird people who told weird stories. Some of the stories may even have been true—but normal people didn't believe them. I knew from experience that there is another realm, a metaphysical one. Maybe that's where the man and dog ended up. Somehow my instincts told me what the brothers had seen was real. Things happened on the island that didn't happen back in San Francisco. Why, I had no idea.

I finished my healthy fruit breakfast and sat for a while trying to make sense of everything. Finally I gave up trying to figure things out and decided I would take up Sabrina Sanchez's invitation to visit her.

Sabrina's home was perched on a pleasant hill by the sea. It was one of a row of wooden houses similarly decorated with white walls, green roofs, and yellow fences. The small yards were filled with flowers and lush vegetation, creating a storybook atmosphere. I climbed the hill slowly until I reached the middle house that bore a small sign that said
SANCHEZ
.

After a few knocks, the door swung open, revealing my new friend's face, still slightly puffy from her earlier indulgences at the party. She was wearing full makeup as if she'd been expecting visitors. I wondered if she was one of those women who would never let herself be seen without makeup. Seeing me, she smiled expansively, revealing the deep wrinkles beside her mouth.

“Eileen! What wind blew you here?”

“It's a very pleasant day, so I decided to pay you a visit. Besides, I'm a girl who keeps her promises.”

“Good, I'm bored and was hoping an honorable guest would arrive to keep me company and entertain me. Please come in, Eileen.”

I followed her into the living room, which was small but nicely decorated with oil portraits that must have been of Sabrina when she was young and fresh, as well as peaceful landscapes and rural scenes. Her furniture looked antique, or at least old and well-crafted. The carpet was large with a faded floral pattern, and a yellowed leopard skin was placed in front of the fireplace. Glazed figures struck ballet poses inside a glass-fronted cabinet. A bookcase had old leather-bound volumes on the bottom shelves and brightly colored best-sellers on the top. In a corner, a white baby grand piano sat silently, as if awaiting caressing fingers. I suspected that the cozy house was to help her survive a life that was all but unbearable.

I was surprised. The décor was feminine but without the overstatement of Sabrina's dress and makeup.

“Sabrina, your house is beautiful!”

She raised her fingers, still covered with rings, to smooth her black-dyed hair. “Thanks. Most of what you see is antique, including me . . . hahaha!”

She was wearing a long blue floral dress with a matching long-tasseled shawl. Perhaps she hoped that the slightly undulating tassels, together with her dangling gold earrings, would animate her tired face and body.

Not knowing how to respond, I smiled. “You look lovely. Where's your friend from the party?”

“Oh”—she made a face—“you mean my puppy. Diego has wandered off somewhere. I'm not his mother nor his nanny, so he's not my problem. Here in my house, people freely come and go, like vaginas in a whorehouse. Ooopps!” She rounded her artificially lashed eyes. “Sorry about my vulgarity. Anyway, he'll come back if he needs me, or if I want him. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back.”

My hostess returned bearing a tea tray with a pitcher of iced tea, glasses, a bottle of brandy, and two little bowls filled with flan. Soon I was sipping iced tea and taking little bites of flan with the small spoon Sabrina provided. She, however, took little interest in the tea or the sweets, instead consuming the brandy rather rapidly.

I couldn't help but stare at the brandy bottle. “Sabrina,” I said, and pointed to her glass.

She cast me a sad glance. “This is me. You must have noticed that during Alfredo's party I drank like a fish and smoked like a chimney.” She took another gulp. “Like many women of a certain age, I drink to forget.”

Forget what I dared not ask, fearing a swarm of snakes would dart out between her brightly painted lips to poison me.

“But, Sabrina, your health . . .”

She laughed. “Ha. Health. For what? To get back my youth?”

“You're still beautiful and you would be even more beautiful if you took good care of yourself.”

Also,
I thought,
if you got rid of your gaudy clothes and makeup.

Her response surprised me. “Maybe I drink to kill myself on purpose.”

“Surely you don't want to kill yourself!”

“All right, all right.” She turned to stare at the vast expanse of sea outside the window for a few seconds, then said, “You know, I had many lovers.”

I cast her an inquisitive look. “Yes, you told me that. You've been fortunate.” What else could I say?

“Fortunate?” She flung her head back and laughed. “Ha, you bet, all sorts of rich men used to line up to ask me out, politicians, rich businessmen, gangsters, officers, athletes. . . .”

“So . . . was Alfredo one of these men?” I ventured to ask.

“Of course.”

She walked to the window and gestured for me to join her. “Look over there—what do you see?”

I strained my eyes. “Stones?”

“Gravestones. After I die, I'll be buried there.”

I felt I should say something comforting. “But you're not old. . . .”

“No? I'm older than you think! Soon I will join my daughter.”

“What do you mean?”

She pointed. “Over there, there's where she's buried.”

“I'm so sorry.” I remembered that she'd told me her only daughter had died and her son disappeared. “How did that happen?”

“She looked like you, at least to me. You two could have passed as sisters, but of course she didn't have dark eyes like yours; her eyes were green like mine.”

I doubted I really looked like her white daughter, and I certainly didn't want to be compared to a dead person.

She ignored my discomfort and went on in a different direction. “Eileen, my liver is giving out. But I'm not afraid. . . .”

“Oh, Sabrina, stop this. Chinese don't like to hear bad-luck talk.”

She was silent for a moment. Just then I saw a framed picture nearby—my friend smiling and holding a dog.

I pointed to the picture, and asked, “A Lhasa Apso?”

“Yes, a rare breed.”

I wondered if this was the same dog that had been swallowed up into the earth.

“It had an accident.”

Before I could say anything, she went on. “It was my daughter's dog. She inherited it from Alfredo's wife, Penelope.”

“How come?”

“Alfredo gave the dog to his wife as a gift. But she was too lazy and arrogant to take care of a pet, so he gave it to my daughter instead.”

“It was swallowed up by the earth?”

Sabrina's eyes bulged in surprise. “How did you know?”

“There was a man, too, right?”

“How do you know all this?”

“I was told by two young men I met in a café.”

“What else do you know?”

“That's it. I'm curious about what happened, but it has nothing to do with me. I'm only a tourist here and will go back to the States soon.”

“Maybe you'll stay, you never know.”

“I don't think so.”

“Nothing is for sure in life, except death—and evil.”

“Sabrina, you are a pessimist.”

“The world is filled with evil forces; witches know about them and can control them.”

“You know about this? Do you know any witches?”

Now she looked at me curiously. “Are you a witch too? Is that why you're interested!?”

“I'm here to find material about witches. I'm a professor and plan to write a book.”

“Hmmm . . . a witch disguised as a professor!” She cast me a sharp glance. “I bet you have your own gift. You should learn to use it.”

“Why do you think that I have a gift?”

“You can see things, just like my daughter.”

“What did she see?”

“She saw everything. Not like those who claim to be witches now.”

“If she saw everything, did she even foresee her own death?”

“She probably did, but she never told me. I guess because she didn't want to break my heart in advance. Who wants to know anyway?”

“How did she die?”

“Drowned in a lake. She was an underwater photographer.”

Could there be some connection between her drowning and the earth swallowing up the man and dog? I was no geologist, but it sounded something like quicksand. However, Sabrina's daughter's death and the incident with the man and the dog had happened years apart.

“Where's this lake?” I asked.

“I can't tell you. It would not be good for you to go there.”

At first I'd simply felt sorry for Sabrina, but now she was a little frightening. Maybe her eerie talk was due to her alcohol intake, but it was giving me a headache. I decided it was time to leave.

“Sabrina, thanks for the tea, but I need to leave now.”

“Please have lunch with me. Or at least another flan.”

“Maybe next time. I'm not feeling well right now.”

“You can rest here if you want.”

“Thanks, but I need my medicine back in the hotel.”

“I can fix you some herbs.”

The last thing I wanted was some strange concoction from this woman.

“Well, thank you, but I'll just head back.”

“Suit yourself. Please come back again and I'll tell you more about my daughter.” She continued in a dark tone. “She was attracted to death like a fly to honey.”

“How so?”

“She was too pure and innocent for this evil world. Some people live their lives longing for their own demise.”

What was that supposed to mean? But I didn't feel like asking.

 

Back in the hotel I lay down, planning to nap, but I couldn't quiet my mind. Who was Sabrina, really? There were hints that she was more than just a loose woman in her declining years. She'd had a daughter who saw everything, even her own death, or so she'd said. Was all this something I needed to know about or something I should stay away from?