I don't know where those two children came from. They can't be more than five years old. I cannot identify their gender. They are seated on the bench in the patio. The are very quiet, very calm. Only their faces indicate that they are alive, that they are not dolls. Perhaps they are cousins or nephews, but neither Juan nor Yolanda has ever mentioned them. Suddenly, they get up. One of them gestures that I follow them through the shrubbery. But, what is this! I know this garden very well, and I remember neither the trail nor the shrubs. We walk a good distance. The trail opens up to a great field of grass, full of flowers of all colours. There is a shack in the middle, the door is open. The two children, dressed in white robes, are standing at both sides of the door, and gesturing to me that I should go inide. The door closes. There is only one wooden chair and a fire in the fireplace. The flames are small and few and the smoke escapes through an opening in the roof. I wait. And wait. And wait. I have brought with me the maroon velvet bag. With my hand, I search inside. There is nothing. I think that I hear something outside, but I don't know. There is something outside. I am sure of this. There is no window and except for the fireplace, it is all dark in here. I am afraid to check the door. It could be locked, but there is nothing to worry about. Slowly I open the door. It is black, and enormous, and bigger than I recall. It is the black serpent, and it is approaching me. Slowly. I am backing away into the hut, but cannot. I have to approach the serpent, and only with the expectation that I will not become its lunch. Suddenly the music rises from my throat. And the hymn in an unknown tongue bursts out of my lips...
The black serpent remains there, paralyzed or hypnotized, while from my lips flow the notes and the unknown words. I haven't the most remote idea what I am singing, and for me it is all the same. It is still something unexpectedly beautiful, and I have never before heard such notes of music coming from my mouth. The snake seems as long as four or five buses parked in a row. Anyway, I no longer feel in danger. Slowly it raises its head and neck like a cobrea ready to strike. But the serpent isn't aiming at me, but lifts itself still more, towards the sky. The music is still tumbling from my lips, and I hear other voices now. Voices so sweet, so strong and so heart rending. And other beings are rising up, in apparel of pure and brilliant colours like those of the four and twenty elders. The Spark of God approaches me, standing now at my side, placing his hand on my back. his voice is particularly beautiful and strong and suddenly I recall the voice of the bird flying like a giant swallow..
Now begins the serpent's metamorphosis. His black scales are acquiring a golden sheen. Soon the scales are all transformed into golden feathers. A feather falls at my feet, identical to the two that were changed into keys. I pick it up and put it in my bag. The music becomes louder while everyone surrounds the serpent, now raised up like a column, shining in the sun. But something else is changing, as the brilliance of the feathered serpent doesn't seem to reflect from an exterior source, but from its own interior source of light, as though now shining more brightly than the sun. a huge golden white flame engulfs the serpent, blinding, like millions of suns. The flame starts to fade, and then reveals a huge golden egg. The shell is broken, and a golden bird rises out of it, like an eagle in shape, but its plumage is golden with reflections of red, purple and orange. He extends his great pointed wings and ascends to the sky. Everyone is silent except for the reborn bird, previously a serpent, flying like a swallow, singing throughout the heavens and earth its anthem of joy and love. And now, for the first time, I feel something wet on my face. Finally it is raining.....
Now I feel dry. The hot chocolate is delicious. Made by Juan. He found me lying on the grass, completely exposed to the pouring rain. I don't know how long I was lying there Juan is with me now at the table, drinking from a steaming cup. He seems calmer now. I cannot recall such an emotional blow up from my brother, never. When he brought me by the arm to the house he was screaming, "What the fuck, you fucking stupid white guy, you fucking stupid Canadian, you fucking miserable little twit, you are going to fucking kill yourself you fucking imbecile! Carlito, you are going to end up killing yourself, and I cannot, I cannot bear this any longer!" and he suddenly burst into tears. I have never before seen Juan cry. He dragged me to my room where he helped me undress, while finding for me some dry clothes. I only recall the rain, just following the flight of the plumed serpent. And the music, so sweet, so unusual, so heartrending. Then rose the waters from the earth, from the springs, cisterns and hidden pools underneath the earth. and the water overcame me and carried me, where, I did not know. My baptism, then I awoke, soaked from the rain, lying on the grass in the garden, and then my brother's huge tantrum, eventually caving underneath the huge sorrow that I had caused him.
Juan is now on the phone. I have already packed a suitcase. He is taking me back to the mental hospital...
I spent only a week in the mental hospital. They won't have to change my meds. In fact, they have been reduced. The bad psychiatrist is gone from here. It turns out that my words to him were true and prophetic. He is a real bastard, screwing and abusing female patients. It is said that he is going to have to face the judiciary. The nurse with the red hair is still there, now more visibly pregnant. As it was written in the scroll. Today is my first day free from the nuthouse. I am alone in the café where I am waiting for Ángel, my new friend from the hospital. He, like me, was a patient there, and was released only a few hours after I was. Now I know who he is. At first sight I wasn't sure, but now there is no mistaking: tall, very tall, thin and very graceful and elegant. And beautiful. Not handsome like a movie star but more angelic. Like his name. Now he appears in the doorway. Wearing a black T shirt and jeans. A smile brightens his face when he sees me, and he comes over and takes the opposite chair.
"Am I late?"
"Not really."
He looks at me with his dark and brilliant eyes.
"I was afraid of arriving late. I am not used to public transit."
"What do you mean by that. Aren't you Mexican?"
"No more than you are, kiddo."
"You're not a Canadian like me. You don't speak with an accent
He looks at me again, and again I can feel energy running through my body.
"Where are you from, Ángel?"
"We are citizens of the same country, Carlito...but it is not going to be Canada."
Avoiding what could turn into a very uncomfortable conversation, I ask him, "How long have you been in Mexico?"
"Long time. But I don?t remember anything from before."
The waiter arrives. Ángel orders a café americano. And me too.
"Now that you are out of the hospital, what do you want to do?"
"My brother in law is going to make arrangements for me to work as a gardener for the city.Then I will return to the college. How about you?"
"I haven't decided yet. My adoptive parents don't want me to work, nor my psychiatrist. They say I don't have enough mental stability."
The waiter returns, carrying chocolate cake for me, and cake of tres leches for Ángel.
So far we have not spoken about our recent circumstances.
Between mouthfuls, Angel starts to speak.
"Carlito, you do know all about our very peculiar circumstances."
"I know them very well."
"What do you remember?
"The desert. Yes, the desert."
I take a mouthful of chocolate cake. It is delicious.
"What else do you remember?"
"I'm still confused. I was hallucinating."
"But, so was I."
"What do you remember?"
"I was wandering in the desert. In a dream, and I was being called. Nothing else. But it was very clear and very strong, the voice that was calling me."
Now Juan is approaching the café because he is driving me home. "Here comes my brother."
"I'll go" says Ángel.
"You don't want to meet him?"
"Your brother and I already know each other. We will meet here again next Saturday. Same time.."
Ángel writes his phone number on the café receipt. Juan is waiting on the sidewalk, looking at his phone. "One more thing", and he reaches into his pack. He pulls out a bag of maroon velvet. "You left it when you were leaving this morning. I think you are going to be needing it."
I look at him, astonished.
"Don't look inside it until you are at home."
Ángel slips out the door just before Juan comes in. My brother pulls up the empty chair, and glances at the plate of the cake of tres leches. "Did you have a visitor?"
"A friend in the hospital. Would you like something?"
"Just a coffee, then we'll go."
My brother turns around, as if he is looking for someone, then reaches for his cup. Soon after, we return home.....
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