Free Bodega Dreams by Ernesto B. Quinonez

and opened it a goose flapped its way out and started to walk around nervously as a few customers looked on with admiration.
    “
Mijo
, this animal is perfect. It is important that the sacrifice be healthy. Changó will be very happy,” she said, and then went behind some curtains to the back of the botanica, leaving us with a scared bird wandering around.
    “You know, Sapo, I can report you to the ASPCA.” I laughed.
    “Shit, I could care less about this chicken, my car stinks now.” Sapo spat on the floor.
    “It’s a goose, bro, not a chicken.”
    “Who the fuck are you, Old MacDonald? The shit stunk up my car. If it was up ta me I’d wring its neck right here.”
    Nene stopped singing and stared at the goose. I detected some pity on his solemn face. Then Doña Ramonita emerged dressed in white, with a rosary wrapped around her waist and some beads dangling downher side. She was carrying a leash and three small jars of lightly tinted water.
    “
Díganle a
Willie to wake up tomorrow at sunrise. Make sure that his window has a clear view of the sun,
si no que vaya al rufo.
He must take off all his clothes and then turn himself seven times to the right as he pours the water from this jar, the first jar, on himself. Then he must turn seven times to the left as he pours the second jar. The third jar I will keep and pour on the sacrifice, also at sunrise.”
    “Wait. What if it’s cloudy?” Nene piped up, “I know it’s
hot town summer in the city
but it could rain tomorrow.”
    “He must wait then, till the sun comes out. I will wait with him too.” Then with deft precision she cornered the goose, leashed its head, and dragged it to a corner where she tied it to a table. “I will pour the water at sunrise, turning the sacrifice seven times.” Doña Ramonita paused and looked at the three of us carefully, making sure that all of us heard what she had to say. “But I can tell you now,” she said, her eyes panning left to right, from Sapo to Nene to me, “I have seen the woman he is after. I have seen her in dreams. She is coming from a hot place. A warm climate, almost like Puerto Rico
pero eso sí
, the woman he is after is coming with a lot of trouble. As if she is the daughter of Changó himself.”
    Doña Ramonita was right. Vera would arrive, fading in and fading out of the neighborhood as if in a film. A character so out of focus that it was hard to know when you had her just right, and when you did, the film ran out. It didn’t matter that the show was over and everyone was going home disappointed, only that you felt responsible for the movie being bad. You knew you weren’t the filmmaker, but you were the one who dragged everyone to see it. With Vera it would be the whole neighborhood that got cheated. Many were at fault, and I was among them.
    As we walked out of the botanica and headed toward Sapo’s car, Doña Ramonita reappeared, shouting.
    “And tell Willie he has to buy new clothes! All in white. Changó’s favorite color is white. Willie will need a lot of white!” she yelled. Sapo nodded to assure her he would relay the message. She then bowed her head ever so slightly and slowly went back inside her botanica.
    Sapo opened the car door and a terrible odor rose from inside. “Fucken shit.” He opened all the doors and pressed a button to slide all the windows down. He took out a cigarette and the three of us waited outside the car for the smell to clear.
    “I feel bad for that bird, you know,” Nene said, “but you know, at least he gets to meet the spirit in the sky.
Thass where I want to go when I die. When I’m old and they lay me to rest I want to
go
to the place thass the best.
”
    I felt this was as good a time as any. “Sapo, I have to speak with Bodega again.” Nene kept singing.
    “ ’Bout wha’?”
    “Tell him I can deliver Vera. That’s the woman he’s after, right? Blanca’s aunt?”
    “Wha’? Now, Chino—” He took a long drag on his cigarette. I knew his