“I’ll paddle. Save your strength. You’ll need it.”
I nodded, holding on to the paddle on my lap again. As she paddled, Mayra prayed. I’d never heard a witch pray before, so I leaned in and shut my eyes to listen. Our Father, who art in heaven . . . my eyes popped open, only to find hers closed as she paddled, her arms moving at a steady pace against the strong current. She said the prayer again, on a never-ending loop, the way my grandmother did when she was praying the rosary. Another wave hit us and my instant panic turned to sobs. What if I didn’t make it to the other side? I’d never been afraid of death, but I didn’t want to drown. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing through another wave that made the boat unsteady, and as my eyes were closed, I joined Mayra in prayer. We said two more Our Fathers before she stopped. I opened my eyes and looked at her.
“We’re almost there,” she shouted over the water. “You’ll need to start paddling now. Promise me that you won’t stop.”
“Why would I stop?” I shouted back.
“Just . . . promise.” She held my eyes in a serious stare, one I couldn’t tear my gaze from.
I nodded. “I won’t stop paddling.”
The wave that came next careened the boat into the air. I gripped onto the sides of it and squeezed my eyes shut with a scream as my stomach dipped, as if I was in a freefall, a roller coaster with no end point. When the boat crashed down, I opened my eyes and grabbed my paddle quickly to make sure it didn’t go overboard. When I looked up at Mayra, she was no longer there. Her paddle was, but there was no sign of her.
“Mayra?” I turned and looked behind me. “Mayra!”
She was gone. Gone. I looked around anxiously, calling out her name, screaming it as loud as I could. Had the wave taken her? Had the curse?
“Fuck you, Satan,” I yelled as I started to shake. “Fuck you.”
I began to cry loudly as I paddled. The water felt so heavy beneath me, too strong to move, but I had to. I’d promised Mayra I would keep paddling and I would. I thought of River, and my mother, and everyone who was depending on me getting back to Pan, and paddled harder. My arms started burning, my shoulders aching, but I kept going. The waves lessened. The fog lifted ever so slightly. The boat hit something that made me rear forward and fall onto the seat Mayra was supposed to be in. When I looked up, I realized I’d hit sand. Palm trees lined the perimeter behind me and I knew I was back at Pan. Either that or I’d made it all the way to the Dominican Republic, but it didn’t matter. I was somewhere. I climbed out of the boat, my arms aching, my feet throbbing. The gown I wore was soaked and weighed me down, but I swept up the bottom and wrung it out with the little energy I had left. I walked one, two, maybe three whole steps on the hot sand before my knees gave out on me and I passed out.
When I came to, I was sitting on the Devil’s Chair. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light that the sun provided from behind the clouds.
“Will you make your wish now?” the voice asked. “Who will you choose? Your boyfriend or your mother? Or does you being back on Pan mean you’ve made that choice?” There was a dark amusement in his voice and I hated that I’d ever associated it with River’s.
My shoulders began to shake as I sat there, not saying any words, careful not to think anything. I kept my mind blank, lest not to make him run with any ideas and grant anything I didn’t wish to be granted.
“What do you want?” I asked, a wail. “What do you want?”
“Make a wish.”
I closed my eyes and then I did.
I had no recollection of walking home or getting there. I just knew that with each step, my heart grew heavier. I thought of River when I stopped in front of my door. If I went inside, would I forget him? Isn’t that what I should have wanted? He’d tormented me, practically conned me into staying with him, and just when I didn’t think I had one more thing left to give, he took my heart. That sounded like someone worth forgetting. I felt a poke inside my ribs, a jab, a reminder. I laughed loudly, shoulders shaking. I crashed down on my knees and started crying again. Fucking River.
The door of the house opened. Through wet eyes, I could see my grandmother standing by the door in a flower muumuu and hair rollers covering her head.