Mañanaland: Chapters 26–30

The sky was mottled with dark clouds that almost eclipsed the moonlight. The river was black ink.

They had left well before dawn in the small boat. Yadra sat in back, deftly rowing, Max on the front thwart opposite, watching the river recede.

They had left well before dawn in the small boat. Yadra sat in back, deftly rowing, Max on the front thwart opposite, watching the river recede.

They had left well before dawn in the small boat. Yadra sat in back, deftly rowing, Max on the front thwart opposite, watching the river recede.

“Your mother’s eyes were on a hope and dream,” said Yadra. “And Rosalina meant that she was waiting for her sister somewhere safe where they could live without fear of whatever happened in Abismo. After you’ve experienced a terrifying and anguished existence, anywhere better...is Mañanaland.”

The sky wavered between blue patches and menacing clouds.

The sky wavered between blue patches and menacing clouds.

“There’s always a bit of melancholy when handing someone over,” she said.
Max’s body felt too heavy to speak.

The rhythmic click of the oarlocks and the slurp of the water sent him into a dense web at the edge of sleep.

There was no horizon—no above or below. He floated within an illuminated cloud.

He could no longer see Yadra, but he could hear her humming somewhere on the periphery of his thoughts.

His mind drifted and his voice slurred.

You will witness the best and the worst in people. Embrace the best and dismiss the worst. You are not doomed to live beneath other people’s misguided notions.

In his mind’s eye, the rowboat was somewhere on the meandering river made by the serpent with the indecisive spirit.

He tried to reconcile the mystery of his mother, but no matter which way he turned, there were no answers or satisfaction.

The bubble in his hand grew flatter, and the luster that surrounded him slowly faded.

The peregrine careened and dived above him, then headed straight for the horizon, where the merlons and crenels of La Reina Gigante peeked above the treetops and beckoned.

Papá shook his head. “We thought she was happy. We were a family, doing all the things people who love one another do. Sunday dinners with the family. Picnics at the river. All of us reveling in the delight a baby brings.”

When all of La Reina Gigante came into view, Max knew they were almost home. As the light waned and the world grew dim, she kept watch over them.

Ortiz played goalie. He’d done well at the summer clinic and honed his skills.