Certain Dark Things(18)

She crouched down next to him as she spoke.

He nodded. “I get it now. I wasn’t too good at science in school.”

“When did you stop going to school?”

“’Bout four years ago,” he said. “I kind of got kicked out of my home.”

“How come?”

He took a sip of juice and shrugged.

“I used to stay out a lot. I’d come home real late at night. My stepdad said if I didn’t start bringing in money and stopped hanging out with troublemakers he was going to kick me out. One night I came home and he wouldn’t let me in. He had dumped my clothes by the door, in a trash bag. That was that.”

“What did your mother say?” she asked, looking surprised.

“She didn’t really say much and I didn’t want to come back, anyway. My stepdad was always hitting me with the belt. One time he hit me with the iron and another with a frying pan.”

The belt was small potatoes. Now the iron, that one had hurt. Domingo had to get stitches.

“What about your real dad?”

“He went away a bunch of years ago. I don’t know where he is now. I’ve got two brothers and we’ve all had different dads.”

It sounded a lot worse when he said it than when he thought about it. Things just were the way they were, but judging by the way she was looking at him maybe it had been worse than he’d thought.

“Drink up,” she said, helping him tilt the glass.

Domingo downed the rest of the juice in one huge gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She took the glass from his hands.

“What’s your mom like?” he asked.

“She’s dead,” Atl said simply, turning the glass in her hands, a finger sliding along its rim.

“I’m sorry. How’d she die?”

“She died. What do you care?” she said, standing up. “The sun will be coming up soon.”

She wasn’t wearing the watch and there was no clock in the living room. Domingo didn’t know how she could tell. Maybe it was one of those vampire powers.

“I need to sleep,” Atl said.

He wanted to ask, “Can I look at your coffin?” but stopped himself in time, realizing how stupid that might sound.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asked.

“Um. Sure.”

“I need you to go look for someone today. It’s a guy. His name is Bernardino. I have his address but I haven’t been able to visit him.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Wait.”

She moved away and returned with a small cloth bag. She reached into it and took out a single jade bead, placing it on the palm of his hand.

“Go see Bernardino and tell him that Atl, Daughter of Centehua, needs his help. I need to find someone, and only he can tell me where she is. Give him this piece of jade.”

“Who do you need to find?”

“This person,” she said.

He took the folded piece of paper in her hands and looked at it. Her handwriting was very tight and neat, not the sloppy strokes that Domingo managed when he chanced to write something. “Verónica Montealban,” said the note. Below it Atl had scribbled “Bernardino” and an address.

“Will you go? Today? This is extremely important. A matter of life or death.”

“I’ll try to go,” Domingo said. “I’m feeling a bit tired right now, but definitely, I—”

“I’m serious. This is important. You can rest for a few hours. There’s a mattress in the bedroom.”

She looked worried and he did want to help her. Domingo shuffled tentatively into the bedroom. The dog padded behind him. It was very dark.

“I can’t see much,” he muttered.

She turned on the light. There was not much to see. Atl did have a mattress in the center of the room, but no sheets. She slid a closet door open and rummaged inside, tossing him a blanket. Domingo placed it on the bed and lay down.

Atl flicked off the light. He was at the edge of the bed, waiting for her to join him. Instead, he heard the closet door slide shut and then nothing but a deep silence. He counted up to ten in his head before wetting his lips and gathering the courage to speak.

“Atl, you are not coming to bed?” he asked.

“No,” came the muffled reply.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor. It’s not like I’d try anything,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I can take the floor, no worries.”

She chuckled. “I like small spaces. Just as the animals in the desert have their burrows, I have mine.”

“Oh,” he said.

He shifted his position and wrapped himself in the blanket. He hoped he hadn’t sounded like a creep asking if she’d come to bed. He didn’t want to give no wrong impression.

“Do you want to hear something interesting? Tarantulas line their burrows with silk to stabilize the burrow wall. They also use silk trap lines to alert them of potential prey.”

“That is neat. How’d you learn that?” he asked.

“My sister told me that,” she said, and her voice was faint.

He waited for Atl to say more, but she did not. Domingo wrapped the blanket around himself and slept. When he woke faint traces of light had begun to slip underneath the curtains. The room was still dark, but he could make out the outline of the closet and the shape of Atl’s dog resting by it.