The Letter
Xibalba sighed as he dipped the tip of his long black quill in its inkwell, to continue with his dreaded paperwork. How he hated it! If it he could have his way, he wouldn't lose his time doing this; unfortunately, ruling a realm meant making sacrifices. He wondered what his little one was doing while he was stuck filling out forms and keeping count of how many souls resided in his realm and turned into dust. Lately, however, he did notice that Marigold had grown a bit distant with him, but he didn't know why.
The dark god was brought out from his thoughts and work when he felt someone tugging at his cloak. He glanced down, half-expecting to see Marigold looking up at him with teary eyes, but instead he found Colmillo whining and tugging the end of his cloak with his teeth gently.
"What do you want, Colmillo?" Xibalba frowned, slightly irritated that the hound had come to bother him precisely at this time.
When Colmillo kept pulling at his cloak, Xibalba figured out he wanted him to follow him. He stood up from his desk, his chair scrapping along the floor, and followed his hound out of his study, down the halls of the castle, until they were in front of the doors that led to La Muerte's sanctuary. Colmillo's ears bent back and he scratched at the door with another whine, before looking up at Xibalba sadly.
"What's bothering you, chico?" Xibalba inquired in annoyance, opening the door to see if Colmillo went in, but suddenly he caught the sound of something.
Sobbing.
And that was a very familiar sobbing. Alarmed, Xibalba glided into the room, forgetting about his hound temporally; the room was still unchanged, everything was as he always left it, the flowers were always fresh and the candles lit, and his late wife's body was on top of its pedestal, dearly cherished and kept. The only different thing about the room, was the small figure hugging her knees, her back and wings against the pedestal, her face hidden in her arms. Her shoulders bounced slightly; she was crying.
"Marigold?"
Immediately, the little goddess jumped and looked up at her father with puffy, teary eyes. "Papi!"
"Marigold-" Xibalba quickly approached his daughter and kneeled in front of her to take her by the shoulders. "What's wrong?!"
"Nothing! I'm fine!" Marigold quickly replied as she wiped her tears away. She looked up at her father when she felt his gloved hand on her shoulder, and he was giving her a questioning but soft look. "…It's dumb."
"Sweetie, you know you can talk to me about anything."
Marigold shifted to make some space for her father as he sat down next to her. "It happened a week ago, when we were in the Land of the Remembered. My friends introduced me to their families."
"And what's bad in that, sweetie?" Xibalba inquired.
"N-Nothing, I liked them very much… It's just…" Marigold's gaze was cast downwards once more. "Antonia was with her mamá, José brought his mamá, Pedro too. Carmela, Esteban, Alan… T-They brought their mothers…" Her eyes were tearing up once more. "They seemed to happy together… Then I got thinking about mamá…"
Xibalba knew where this was going.
"I don't remember anything her. I didn't know her before she passed and I know I'll never have the chance." She sniffled as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Tomorrow is Día de las Madres, and I don't have anyone to give a gift to…."
Xibalba was at the verge of tears. "Marigold…" the dark god pulled his daughter closer into an embrace, and she returned it. Marigold buried her face into her father's chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, her shoulders bouncing. Xibalba stroked her hair gently and wrapped his wings around her protectively as he started shedding his own tears.
Hours passed-literally- before Xibalba spoke. "Shhh. It's okay, Marigold."
"I feel like I'm being selfish…"
"Selfish?" Xibalba pulled back from the embrace and looked into her eyes. "Why do you say that?"
"I'm acting like a baby. I've got you, papi. That should be good enough for me. You never let it get you down and-" Marigold was interrupted when her father placed a finger on her lips.
"I understand what you're trying to say, mi florecita." Xibalba sighed. "It's okay if you miss her, but you should never let pain blind you into doing things you can regret later. I… I am not proud to say I learned it the bad way." He looked away. "I'm still ashamed of the way I acted."
Marigold looked up at her father. "Huh?"
"The world changed for everyone, and everything, that day, not just for me… Losing your mother… All the Remembered's hearts broke when they heard the news. Our fellow deities in Aztlan tried to help me get back on my feet. But after some time, it was just you and me again. Nothing felt right when she died. I felt so… empty… broken…" Xibalba closed his eyes shut. "I couldn't… I just couldn't look at you the first days of your life."
Marigold could tell there was a deep regret in his voice.
"Even as a baby, you were… you were just like your mother in every single way… her same face, her same hair, mouth… Everything about you reminded me of her, reminded me that she was gone forever. And it hurt so much I just... I didn't want to see you. It was easier that way for me, that's what I told myself." He tightened his hold on his daughter when she started to sob. "But then, when I held you in my arms for the first time, and you vomited on my cloak…" he chuckled humorlessly at the reminder despite the contradictory tears. "In those first five minutes I spent with you, you stole what was left of my heart. I adored you since then, you became my everything; I wanted to hold you in my arms and never let go of you."
Marigold snuggled into her father's arms and buried her face into his neck, still sobbing uncontrollably. Xibalba thought for a moment as he stroked her hair tenderly, wondering if he should tell her or not. He opted to do so.
"Mi florecita…"
"Mm?" Marigold didn't even lift her head from his neck.
"There's something else I want to tell you…"
"MA-MAAAAHHHH!"
"Sh-sh-sh-sh." Xibalba cooed at his wailing baby, bouncing her in his arms and shaking Rattles above her head, but she paid it no heed; this was very rare, she usually calmed down when she heard her plush snake's rattling, but this time she wriggled violently in her father's hold, her wings flapping inside her covers instinctively. "Shhh, no llores, mi florecita. Papi's got you."
"MA-MAAAAHHH!" Marigold cried once more, flailing her little arms and legs.
Xibalba sighed as he sat down back on his rocking chair and swayed it with his wings, bouncing his child in his arms and trying in vain to shush her. She had rejected the bottle (even with chocolate milk), her diaper was clean, and she even rejected the rattle he made for her, and it was her favorite toy (along with Rattles, of course). Deep down he knew the reason of why she was crying like this, but he did not know what he could do.
There was a knock on his door, but Marigold's wails were so loud he almost didn't hear it.
"What?!" he yelled over the wailing.
"My Lord, Lady Toci wishes to have a word with you!"
Oh, great. In all the possibly worst moments, she had to come at this one. But she had much experience with infants than he did, so maybe she could lend him a hand.
"Tell her to come in!" Xibalba yelled back, tightening his grip on Marigold's wriggling body.
A while passed before the old, green skinned goddess came into his chambers, closing the doors behind her, and walked towards him. "The baby's cries can be heard all the way outside, you know!"
"You think I haven't noticed?!" Xibalba snapped, bouncing Marigold desperately, wincing when she gripped unto his moustache.
"MA-MAAAAHHHH!"
Toci felt a great wave of sorrow upon her soul when she heard the child crying out like that. "Xibalba, may I take a look?"
Barely managing to save his moustache form being ripped off his face, he nodded. "Do it!"
Toci placed her hand on the child's forehead, and it gleamed a soft green light. Immediately, Marigold's crying died down as she sniffled and buried her face into her father's chest, her features softening up. The old Goddess sighed as both she and Xibalba watched the little one fall asleep for the moment.
"She misses her mother." Toci spoke sadly. "She doesn't understand why she's not around, and it scares her."
Xibalba looked down at his daughter sadly, caressing her cheek with a finger gently. "I know that." He looked up at Toci; she could swear his eyes were glistening with tears. "Is there something I can do to soothe her?"
"All you can do for now is to be there for her. She only has you, after all. I could see that she loves you very much too."
He said nothing. He had nothing more to say.
"By the way, that's not the only reason I came here." Toci looked for something in the pocket of her dress, and she slid out a red envelope sealed with wax. Xibalba instantly recognized his wife's seal. "La Muerte left this for you before she passed; Carmen Sánchez told me she wrote it a few hours before going into labor, but she couldn't give it to you because of your emotional state." That, and he'd practically left before she could give it to him. "There are two letters in that envelope, one for you, the other for Marigold. You can read the one meant for you whenever you want, but La Muerte asked that the one for Marigold is only read to her when you think the time is right."
Xibalba accepted the envelope, with one hand, holding Marigold in his other arm carefully. After a while, he nodded his head. "Thank you."
Toci was surprised at his coolness, but opted not to push him any further. "I'll be taking my leave now, if you don't mind." The old Goddess gave him a last look of compassion. "Be well." She was gone in a swirl of leaves.
Xibalba remained on his rocking chair for a while, before standing up and making his way to Marigold's cradle. He gently tucked her in, before straightening back up and looking down at the red envelope in his hands. She had written this a few hours before her death? What could she have possibly have there that she didn't tell him in person? Xibalba opened the envelope with a claw, and slid one of two papers out of it. He placed the envelope with the other letter in his night desk and sat down of his bed as he unfolded the letter meant for him and started to read.
Balby.
By the time you read this, I'll probably be gone. There's something that I didn't tell you, because I couldn't find the words to do so, so I opted to write it down to you here. When I found I was expecting our dear baby, I also found that the little embryo I was carrying was such a fragile thing that it wouldn't produce enough energy to survive on its own. The only way for it to live was to receive energy from someone else, from me in this case, but it would mean that my life energy would be drained little by little. Even now that I'm writing this to you, I can feel my life draining away, into our child's little body. I know that when my child is born, I shall leave this world.
But I do not regret this decision. I would have taken it a thousand times, if it meant saving the life of our child. I just… couldn't bear the thought of losing another baby, and I know you wouldn't have either, that's why I decided to give my life for our child. Remember when we were children? How we'd often play that we had a baby, and we'd take care of one of my dolls? I still do, it's one of my most cherished memories of our times together. Forgive me for not telling you about this, but I didn't want to cause you any more pain.
Balby, could you do me a favor? One last thing for me? Please, when I'm gone, take good care of our baby. Love her, be there for her, and let her know she is not alone. I know you'll miss me very much, I know you love me more than you've ever loved anything else. You've proven it to me countless times, ever since our childhood, since we confessed our love to each other under that tree. I've loved you as much, mi vida, and I'll always be with you even if you cannot see me. But please, do not hold any ill emotions towards our baby. Do not think of her as the one who took my life away, but as a little piece of me; see her as a gift I'm leaving behind for you to remember me. Please do this one last thing for me, mi cielo.
Goodbye, Balby. I'll always love you, no matter where you are.
Forever yours.
Muertita.
By the time he was done reading, Xibalba had silently burst into tears. Closing his eyes shut, he held the paper against his chest, engraving the words in his heart.
"I'll always love you too, mi corazón…" he wept, sniffling and clutching the letter close to his heart.
Toci's soothing spell started wearing off. Marigold started sobbing and wriggling in her cradle, and soon started to cry, clutching into Rattles tightly. Xibalba placed the letter aside for the moment, and stood up from bed to go and kneel down next to his daughter's cradle.
"Shhhh…" he cooed, stroking her cheek with all the tenderness in his being. "I know you miss your mamá, mi florecita. Papi misses her very much too, but…" he managed to give her a small smile. "She's still here with us. She'll always be with you and I, pequeña, though we may not see her."
Marigold's crying diminished, and she glanced at her father with glossy and puffy eyes. "Ma…ma…" she mumbled, taking the dark god's long razor claw finger with her tiny sugary ones.
"I… I'm sorry if I didn't acknowledge you the first days you came into the world, mi pequeñita… Papi sometimes does stupid things when he's upset or mad…"
Marigold a big sneeze in 'reply', making Xibalba laugh softly.
"Your mamá didn't like it either."
The little one started sobbing again. "Mama…"
Xibalba thought for a moment, before standing up and heading for his bookshelves. Marigold's sobs grew louder when she lost sight of her father, but soon he was back with something in his hand.
"I got something for you, mi florecita." The Lord of the Forgotten kneeled on both his knees in at the side of the cradle once more, and held out a picture above his daughter's head. It was a picture of La Muerte in her wedding dress. "This was your mamá. She's pretty, isn't it? It's one of my favorites."
Marigold felt soothed down by the smiling Goddess in the picture, and reached out her hands for it, cooing and gurgling curiously. Xibalba smiled.
"Okay. You can keep it, mi florecita. Papi's got a bunch, anyway." He gingerly attached the picture to the infant mobile just above her little head, where she could see it. "There you go."
Marigold's curious little eyes glued unto the picture, wriggling in her covers, letting out coos and gurgles. "Mama…"she reached out for the picture once again.
Knowing Marigold needed to take her nap, Xibalba stood up and planted a kiss on Marigold's forehead, brushing hairs from her little face. "Buenas noches, mi pequeña." As he blew out the candles in his chambers, Marigold kept looking up at her mother's picture for a good while, before her little eyes shuttered and she fell asleep, dreaming with her mother.
Both grew silent as he finished with the anecdote. Marigold's sobs had diminished, but she was still shedding tears, her head lying against Xibalba's chest. Suddenly, Marigold realized something.
"Papi?"
"What is it, mijita?"
"What happened to the picture you gave me that day?"
It took Xibalba a few moments to answer. "When you were about to turn two, I… I tucked it away into one of your drawers."
"Why? Why wouldn't you ever speak about mami?"
"I…" Xibalba closed his eyes. "I was afraid that you would miss her, like I did. I thought it would be best that you knew little about her, so you wouldn't suffer for her absence." He feared that would upset her, but instead she hugged him with her much smaller wings.
"Can I miss her with you now, papi?"
The dark god beamed down at his daughter and pulled her close, before he remembered the main topic of their conversation. Xibalba slid the red envelope from underneath his chest plate, but now it only contained the letter La Muerte had left for their daughter; the one meant for him was safely tucked into his nigh table. Toci said he should read it to his daughter when he thought the time was right. Now was the time. Marigold took notice of it.
"Is that…?"
Xibalba nodded as he slid the letter out of the envelope, and unfolded it so he could read it out loud to his daughter.
My little Marigold, mi bebé,
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I won't be there for you, but I want you to know that even though I must leave you behind me, I will tell you where you can always find me. When a gentle wind blows, that's my hand on your face. When a tree gives you shade, that's my sheltering embrace. When the sunlight gives you freckles, that's me tickling my baby. When the rain wets your hair, those are my tears of joy. When grass enfolds you, that's me holding you tight. When the nightingale sings, that'll be my lullaby for you. Never forget, mi pequeña, I'll always be there when you need me, even if you won't see me.
Love, mami.
Marigold was crying by the time he was done reading. She held tightly unto him, sobbing uncontrollably; she missed her mother now than ever, after reading that letter. Xibalba placed it aside temporally so that he could hug his daughter and wrap his wings around herself once more.
"Shh-sh-sh-sh." Xibalba shushed at his daughter softly. "No llores, mi niña. It's okay."
"I miss her, papi…" Marigold sobbed, nuzzling against his chest.
"Me too, Marigold. I would have liked that you remembered her, at least in her last moments; she was very happy to see you before she passed away. In fact, she was the one who named you."
Marigold wiped her tears and sniffled as she looked up at her father. "She was?"
Xibalba nodded. "Those were her last words actually."
The two of them remained there, sitting next to the pedestal where La Muerte's body lay resting, until Xibalba guessed it was very late. He stood up, still holding Marigold in his arms, but before he could glide out of the sanctuary, Marigold pulled back a bit.
"Wait, papi, can I do something else before we go?"
Xibalba thought for a moment, then he gently set his daughter down on the floor, and watched as she ran up to her mother's pedestal, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on La Muerte's cheek. "Te quiero, mami." She then quickly went back to her father's side and allowed him to take her hand and lead her away.
That night, Xibalba stayed with his daughter in her chambers to comfort and soothe her sadness; he swaddled her in blankets and furs and embraced her in both arms and wings, holding her close like when she was a baby. Marigold had fallen asleep a while ago, but he still cooed and shushed wherever she shifted or let out whimpers. The letter for her was now in her own drawer, safely tucked away until she wanted to read it again. For the moment, Xibalba just watched his little one slumber peacefully, wondering deep inside what she was dreaming about.
She didn't know where she was. She couldn't see anything at all, but she could move, though not very much. Still, she felt oddly… comfortable. It was a sensation of swimming around in the dark, doing backflips and taking naps most of the time. But sometimes, part from the beating sound she was always hearing, she'd hear noises coming from the outside.
"How are you doing, mi bebé? Did you sleep well?"
She couldn't know who was talking, but it made her feel calm. She's often kick at the unseen walls of her 'prison', wanting to hear the voice again, but not only would she hear that voice, but another, much more deeper.
"I hope you look more after your mami, bebita.We just can't wait to meet you!"
Soon she got used to those voices, and she wanted to hear them all the time. As time went on, she'd hear them more and more, but other times she'd gone too much time without hearing the voices. Once, she felt an strange feeling of awkwardness for no reason at all, and she instinctively kicked the wall. Then the two voices spoke.
"Everytime we kiss, I feel a patadita!"
"Let's kiss again, mi amor!"
It went on like this for an amount of time she couldn't tell, but one day she grew alarmed when all the water surrounding her in her little prison drained little by little, and she felt her whole body being pulled into a direction. A few minutes later, she was hit by cold air, blinding lights and loud sounds; the beating sound that soothed her disappeared too. She didn't like it. She wanted to be put back in her little prison, where it was warm, dark and safe. The atmosphere around her felt… She couldn't find a word, but she heard voices.
"No, don't say that, mi amor! You just need rest, you'll be fine!" the deeper voice sounded frantic, sad and fearful.
"Mi Balby… Take good care of our pequeña, would you?" The warm, loving voice sounded tired, but she could tell it tried to comfort the other voice.
She couldn't hear what they were saying next, since her wailing, squirming and her screaming unallowed her to do so, not to mention something was rubbing against her sensible skin and wiping her dry. Then, the something wrapped around her whole body, restraining her arms and legs and wings, but at the same warming her up a bit.
"Señora Carmen… Please, let me see her…"
That voice… she wanted to see who it was. Still whimpering, she opened her eyes a bit, only enough to see the one whose voice was soothing, without hurting her eyes with the light.
And then she saw her.
She was a pretty woman, with pale skin and dark, dark waves cascading from her head. Her face was exhausted, as if she had gone through great physical pain and hardship, but her colorful eyes were full of love, warmth and kindness. The pretty woman managed to smile a bit at her.
"Mi bebé…"
As soon as the woman's lips came into contact with her forehead, she felt a sensation of calm, all her fear vanished, and she closed her little eyes to go for a nap. The heard the woman breathing heavily like she was having trouble at it.
"Her name is Marigold…"
Suddenly, there was a flash of bright light and the loud drumming of a thunder, and she found herself in a side-enclosed space. Scared and startled, she started to cry her fright, wanting the pretty woman from before to come and give her another kiss, but she didn't came, which made her cry louder. Soon, a figure she found strangely familiar approached her enclosure; familiar red and green eyes were soon staring down tiredly, yet with great affection and love.
"Sh-sh-sh-sh." He picked her up and held her against his chest, stroking her cheek with one of his fingers. "Don't cry, mi florecita. Papi esta aquí." He snapped his fingers and in a small burst of green something appeared in his hand. He shook it above her head, and the rattling sound it made caught her attention; she always had the feeling she had heard that sound before. Forgetting about the thunder, she reached out her little arms for it, trying to catch it. Her papi smiled down at her. "I'm glad you like it, mi pequeña."
A good while happened before her eyes started shuttering again, but the sound of thunder still frightened her. Papi must have noticed, for he sat down in some place she couldn't see instead of placing her back on her enclosure. She continued playing with the rattling object, as her father started to sing.
Te amo y mas de lo que puedes imaginar
Te amo además como nunca nadie jamás lo hara
En esta canción va mi corazón
Amor mas que amor es el nuestro y te lo vengo a dar.
The more he sang, the sleepier she became. Finally, after a while, she rested her head against his chest, clutching the rattling thing in her hands. Before drifting off, the last thing she felt was papi's lips peppering her forehead.
"Dulces sueños, mi florecita."
Marigold slowly opened her eyes, and the first thing she noticed was that she was in her father's arms, half-swaddled up. She heard he was snoring lightly, his tongue hanging out from his mouth; Marigold giggled lightly. Xibalba smiled in his sleep, he had always loved wherever his daughter laughed. It made him know that she was happy. Marigold stared at her father's sleeping face for a while, thinking about the weird dream she just had. He had been there, she was certain; she had recognized his voice. But the woman was another different matter… She had was … and her voice was so soothing, so full of warmth and kindness that she wished to hear it again, even if it was just a dream…
Or was it a memory?
She couldn't really tell, but a part of her wanted to think that the woman she had seen was her mother, that the dream was a flash of the only time she managed to catch a glimpse of her and hear her voice. But who knew? Marigold started thinking as she stared at her father...
...Maybe she did have someone to give a gift to after all…
The first thing he noticed when he awoke next morning was that Marigold was no longer in his embrace. All he had in his arms left from last night were the blankets she had been wrapped in. Xibalba was momentarily alarmed, until he spotted his daughter's little body on her small table, one he set for her since she had an affinity for painting since she was very young. He could recall when he first gave her a paint kit when she turned three, and she immediately started painting things she liked, like animals or desserts. Sure, she was still a long way to go to perfect her technique, but he was moved by her determination.
Standing up from bed and gliding towards the table, he noticed that the brushes were stained in all kinds of colors, and her paint jars were open, which meant she must have fallen asleep while working on her little masterpiece. Curious as to what she had been drawing, Xibalba gently and carefully so not to wake his daughter up lifted her head from the table and slid out the parchment of paper, before laying her head back on the table again.
When he examined the painting she had made, his eyes swelled up with tears.
The drawing was quite crude, but he could make out what she had drawn. The drawing depicted him in his rocking chair, holding Marigold in his arms as a baby. There was a big red heart at the side, and she had written something in it…
You're not only the best papá in the whole world. You're also the best mamá. Te quiero, papi.
Marigold.
Xibalba felt a few tears of endearment roll down his cheeks as he smiled down at his daughter, and bent down to pick her up, then glided up to her bed and lay her down, pulling up the sheets to warm her up and then planting a kiss on her cheek. Marigold smiled in her sleep as Xibalba stroked her cheek tenderly.
"Yo también te quiero, mi florecita."