Free The Mortifications by Derek Palacio

they inched slowly into each other. The air by the water was humid, and when they finished, Soledad was slick with the perspiration of two bodies and incredibly thirsty. She slid from their sleeping bag and exited the tent to drink from the portable cooler, and in the twilight before dawn she saw what she thought was a bat. She crept closer to the water. The creature was much larger than a bat and seemed not to disturb the air in the slightest bit. It was an owl! It was beautiful, and it made Soledad cry out in joy to have seen such a thing. Frightened by her sound, the bird soared back up toward the canyon’s rim before disappearing into a crevasse.
    She thought of nothing else the entire day. Distracted by her vision, she could not focus the following night when again the guide went to bed early and Willems rolled into her. Soledad silently pushed him aside and studied her watch until she was sure the sky was halfway black and halfway blue. She was rewarded for her diligence in the very early morning. The owl reappeared, this time to steal a snake from the river, water dripping from the tail.
    The final days of the trip the guide was feeling better, and Soledad apologized for ignoring Willems. She thanked him also for taking her to the canyon, and she told him that she’d been rejuvenated by the trip. Before leaving the park, she kissed him at an overlook near the southern rim, where they could see vultures in the distance. But it was a strange kiss, because it was bare, something she was certain they both realized. Soledad had thought herself resuscitated, not emptied out. She let the notion pass as they drove back to Phoenix, which was easy, because she had the owl on her mind, the sight of the bird becoming an object of meditation as she traveled.
    Back home, she made a metaphor of what she’d seen, giving weight to the empty kiss and the mute hunter. She could sense an allegory coming to life as her fingers bit at the keys of the Smith Corona: she was the captured snake, and the owl was, of course, her silent daughter. At the Grand Canyon she’d not been restored, but reborn, and if she was not careful here—if she was not vigilant—her life would be carried away by the soundless creature she’d once loved. The Grand Canyon did not give her the strength to return home but the strength for one last strike, and it had to be a good one, teeth flared and jaws open, so that her daughter might release her grip.
    But this did not at all explain the empty kiss, except that maybe Soledad no longer had the strength to love Willems and her daughter all at once. He was left behind on the riverbank. It was a sad parting, she thought. She opened a new ream of paper alongside the typewriter. But it could not be helped. It was likely only temporary, and at the moment Soledad had no time for apologies. Willems could stay as long as he could stand it, but she was unidirectional, and she rattled down the warpath.
    —
    In the light of the church vestibule, Isabel struck Soledad as strange in appearance. The habit she wore was white for her preliminary phase, cupping her chin and rounding her forehead in a way that made her large brown eyes appear even larger.
    Here is your daughter, the bishop said to Soledad, as if she’d forgotten the face.
    Soledad handed to the bishop a thick manila envelope, which he seemed to expect and placed on a table next to a bowl of holy water.
    You should familiarize yourself with the contents, Soledad said. There are a series of court dates already set for initial hearings, which I have no doubt will lead to a trial. The district attorney has all the same materials. You may request extra copies if you’d like.
    You can, of course, take her, the bishop said. But I don’t think this is really necessary. The Church offers up its sacraments, and it’s a person who chooses to take part in them. No one has forced these vows on her, just as no one forces the body and blood of Christ into mouths on