The Pulse between Dimensions and the Desert by Rios de la Luz Read Free Book Online Page B

the influence of mescaline, you looked into a mirror and saw accuracy in the depiction of your being. Your hair strands extended above you, glowing and vibrating. Your eyes traveled through your timeline and grabbed those moments when people were kind. Laura was there with her notebook paper. Your cousin Omar was there with a water pistol. The bruja Letty, who told you anger was a valid emotion, was there too. They sat at the picnic table in silence as you caressed the bottom of the crater with the hands that crawled away from a man who could never understand why you refuse to forgive him.

 
     
    ESMAI

    Discs shift beneath the earth. Your dog is cautious, her eye on the photographs swaying from side to side, tapping louder and louder against the hollow wall. She whimpers, so you hold onto her. You pet her lightly and scratch behind her floppy ears. You kiss her head. Your back is throbbing from a 12 hour shift the day before. If everything crumbles, you hope you can dig your way out and find pain killers before your crushed softness sees the light at the end of a hollow tube. You run to the kitchen and swallow a pill dry. The dog is still watching the picture frames slow dance. Multiple family photos. Three of you and your mom. One of you, Great Grandma, Abuela, Mom and your sister. Four generations with crowns of flowers on their heads.
    Mom calls and tells you Great Grandma has passed. She was surrounded by her Chihuahuas. They barked and howled as her breathing slowed. The three of them jumped off of the bed and woke your Tía. Tía ran to your bisabuela’s room and the Matriarch of the family was gone. Her name was Martha Velo. She represented the stubborn and resilient lineage you belong to. You ask Mom if she’s okay. She says yes, but she wishes she hugged her grandma harder the last time she saw her. She tells you to take care of your plants. You hang up and make sure your plants are still living.
    The earth doesn’t stop, but your apartment stops shaking. An apocalypse means wearing a quality pair of combat boots, underwear, pants, plus, a reliable sense of direction, hydration and packing vitamin-filled foods. You step outside. The air smells like skunk. The clouds expand into wisps in the yellow sky. The upstairs neighbors are sucking madly on their cigarettes. The brunette looks down at you and sends you an eyebrow. If this were the end of the planet, you’d kill them. There’s no way they wouldn’t kill you and Spatula and then eat her. You look at the sky and whisper to Great Grandma that you are just kidding.
    Spatula is on her hind legs, watching you and wishing she could use her mouth to say thank you for making the shaking room stop. Spatula thinks about her squirrel toy, sniffs it out and shakes the squirrel by the neck. Spatula’s a good girl. Her tail wags when those words pop into her head. She gallops into the room and finds a spot on the bed. Stuffing as confetti settles into the carpet. Spatula huffs. The ground vibrates for five, four, three, two, one. You run inside and inspect the apartment. The living room and kitchen look okay. You look into your room and grab your chest. Red splotches start forming on your neck. There’s a napping astronaut beside Spatula. Or maybe the astronaut is dead? You’re not sure. Spatula doesn’t seem to mind. Her head is nuzzled on the astronaut’s thigh. You knock on the helmet and clear your throat.
    “Excuse me. Excuse me, astronaut person… hopefully a person… you’re in my apartment and I would appreciate it if you left…please?”
    You shake their shoulder and tap on the helmet once again. The astronaut springs up and turns toward you. A green button on the neck of the suit opens the helmet and it’s your own face looking at you. You jump back.
    “Hello, Esmai. I know this is fucked up.”
    Spatula’s tail thumps against the bed and she goes over to lick the astronaut’s face.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Who’s a good girl? You are