closed shops, her feet finding their way by habit, Tomasa ran home. Her panic was amplified with each step, until she was racing the dark. Only when she got close to home did she slow, her shirt soaked with sweat and her muscles hurting, the pod still clasped in her hand.
* * * *
Rosa was waiting on the veranda of their house, smoking one of the clove cigarettes that her brother sent by the carton from Indonesia. She got up when Tomasa walked through the gate.
"Did you see him?” Rosa asked. “Did he take the offering?"
"Yes and yes,” Tomasa said, breathing hard. “But it doesn't matter."
Rosa frowned. “You really saw an enkanto ? You're sure."
Tomasa had been a coward. Perspiration cooling on her neck, she thought of all the things she might have said. He'd caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to have a soft smile, or to laugh, or even to exist in the first place. She looked at the tamarind shell in her hand and watched as her fingers crushed it. Bits of the pod stuck in the sticky brown fruit beneath. For all that she'd thought Eva was stupid around boys, she'd been the stupid one. “I'm sure,” she said hollowly.
On her way up the stairs to bed, it occurred to Tomasa to wonder for the first time why an elf who could make a love spell with a few words would burn with thwarted desire. But then, in all of Rosa's stories the elves were wicked and strange—beings that cursed and blessed according to their whims. Maybe there was just no making sense of it.
The next day the priest came and said novenas. And after that, the albularyo sprinkled the white sheets of Eva's bed with herbs. Then the doctor came and gave her some pills. But by nightfall, Eva was no better. Her skin, which had been as brown as polished mahogany, was pale and dusty as that of a snake ready to shed.
Tomasa called her father's cell phone and left a message, but she wasn't sure if he would get it. Out far enough in the provinces, getting a signal was chancy at best. Her mother's Hong Kong hotel was easier to reach. She left another message and went up to see her sister.
Eva's hair was damp with sweat and her eyes were fever-bright when Tomasa came to sit at the end of her bed. Candles and crucifixes littered the side table, along with a pot of strong and smelly herb tea.
Eva grabbed Tomasa's hand and clutched it hard enough to hurt.
"I heard what you did.” Eva said with a cough. “Stay away from his goddamned tree."
Tomasa grinned. “You should drink more of the tea. It's supposed to help."
Eva grimaced and made no move toward her cup. Maybe it tasted as bad as it smelled. “Look, I'm serious,” she said.
"Tell me again how he cursed you,” Tomasa said. “I'm serious, too."
Eva gave a weird little laugh. “I should have listened to Rosa's stories. Maybe if I'd read a couple less magazines . . . I don't know. I just thought he was a boy from the fields. I told him to mind his place and leave me alone."
"You didn't eat any of his fruit, right?” Tomasa asked suddenly.
"I had a little piece,” Eva said, looking at the wall. “Before I knew he was there."
That was bad. Tomasa took a deep breath and tried to think of how to phrase her next question. “Do you . . . um . . . do you think he might have made you fall in love with him?"
"Are you crazy?” Eva blew her nose in a tissue. “Love him? Like him? He's not even human."
Tomasa forced herself to smile, but in her heart, she worried.
* * * *
Rosa was sitting at a plastic table in the kitchen chunking up cubes of ginger while garlicky chicken simmered on the stove. Tomasa liked the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, it was small and dark. The floor was poured concrete instead of gleaming wood. A few herbs grew in rusted coffee cans along the windowsill and there was a strong odor of sugarcane vinegar. It was a kitchen to be useful in.
Tomasa sat down on a stool. “Tell me about elves."
Rosa looked up from her chopping, a cigarette dangling from her
* * * *
Rosa was waiting on the veranda of their house, smoking one of the clove cigarettes that her brother sent by the carton from Indonesia. She got up when Tomasa walked through the gate.
"Did you see him?” Rosa asked. “Did he take the offering?"
"Yes and yes,” Tomasa said, breathing hard. “But it doesn't matter."
Rosa frowned. “You really saw an enkanto ? You're sure."
Tomasa had been a coward. Perspiration cooling on her neck, she thought of all the things she might have said. He'd caught her off guard. She hadn't expected him to have a soft smile, or to laugh, or even to exist in the first place. She looked at the tamarind shell in her hand and watched as her fingers crushed it. Bits of the pod stuck in the sticky brown fruit beneath. For all that she'd thought Eva was stupid around boys, she'd been the stupid one. “I'm sure,” she said hollowly.
On her way up the stairs to bed, it occurred to Tomasa to wonder for the first time why an elf who could make a love spell with a few words would burn with thwarted desire. But then, in all of Rosa's stories the elves were wicked and strange—beings that cursed and blessed according to their whims. Maybe there was just no making sense of it.
The next day the priest came and said novenas. And after that, the albularyo sprinkled the white sheets of Eva's bed with herbs. Then the doctor came and gave her some pills. But by nightfall, Eva was no better. Her skin, which had been as brown as polished mahogany, was pale and dusty as that of a snake ready to shed.
Tomasa called her father's cell phone and left a message, but she wasn't sure if he would get it. Out far enough in the provinces, getting a signal was chancy at best. Her mother's Hong Kong hotel was easier to reach. She left another message and went up to see her sister.
Eva's hair was damp with sweat and her eyes were fever-bright when Tomasa came to sit at the end of her bed. Candles and crucifixes littered the side table, along with a pot of strong and smelly herb tea.
Eva grabbed Tomasa's hand and clutched it hard enough to hurt.
"I heard what you did.” Eva said with a cough. “Stay away from his goddamned tree."
Tomasa grinned. “You should drink more of the tea. It's supposed to help."
Eva grimaced and made no move toward her cup. Maybe it tasted as bad as it smelled. “Look, I'm serious,” she said.
"Tell me again how he cursed you,” Tomasa said. “I'm serious, too."
Eva gave a weird little laugh. “I should have listened to Rosa's stories. Maybe if I'd read a couple less magazines . . . I don't know. I just thought he was a boy from the fields. I told him to mind his place and leave me alone."
"You didn't eat any of his fruit, right?” Tomasa asked suddenly.
"I had a little piece,” Eva said, looking at the wall. “Before I knew he was there."
That was bad. Tomasa took a deep breath and tried to think of how to phrase her next question. “Do you . . . um . . . do you think he might have made you fall in love with him?"
"Are you crazy?” Eva blew her nose in a tissue. “Love him? Like him? He's not even human."
Tomasa forced herself to smile, but in her heart, she worried.
* * * *
Rosa was sitting at a plastic table in the kitchen chunking up cubes of ginger while garlicky chicken simmered on the stove. Tomasa liked the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, it was small and dark. The floor was poured concrete instead of gleaming wood. A few herbs grew in rusted coffee cans along the windowsill and there was a strong odor of sugarcane vinegar. It was a kitchen to be useful in.
Tomasa sat down on a stool. “Tell me about elves."
Rosa looked up from her chopping, a cigarette dangling from her
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