Ch. 4
Holding On To Yesterday

NOVEMBER 20TH, 1988
06:05
ROCHDALE, QUEENS, NY

There was fire, a massive fire that ceaselessly consumed what looked like an engine room. The machine amongst the flames was failing, broken by means unknown to him. Smoke and death hung in the air. So much death. And so much pain… He felt like he was dying, his neck and hands feeling as if something hot had stabbed right through. Shards of metal were buried in his back. He could barely breathe or move without wincing in pain or coughing up blood.

Above him, he noticed an unsightly object hanging from the ceiling. Something with blonde hair that moved with a life of its own. It hung from a pipe along the ceiling, its amber eyes staring at him with cold determination. It was a head, severed at the base of its neck. And from its bloody stump were long, sickly veins that writhed excitedly around him like a hungry squid. They shot straight at him, wrapping around his neck and cutting off what little air he could breathe.

The head's hair let go, and an explosion propelled him towards him. He could see every detail of his pale, inhuman face illuminated by the flames around, accentuated by his fanged smile. And as the head rocketed towards him, he let out a triumphant cry.

"Now come, Jojo! And embrace your fate as my eternal body!"

And then the dream ended. Joaquín shot up in his bed, drenched in sweat and panting. He looked around, expecting to see the flames again, to hear the voice of that head. But there was none of that. All he could see was darkness, only a dim street light shining inside from the window beside him. There was silence, only punctuated by cars below outside. It took him a minute to realize he was in his room, and that it wasn't even dawn yet. Joaquín plopped back onto his pillow and breathed a sigh of frustration.

"That dream again," he muttered to himself.

This, unfortunately, was not the first time he had this dream. Not even the second or third time. For four years now, Joaquín Trejo had been plagued by the same three dreams. They were never the same, but he took notice that they all had similar reoccurring themes. Raging fire, a death-filled atmosphere, pain, and a man with wild hair and a cold, unforgiving face. He either had a body or didn't, and regardless of his state, he always ended his dreams with a predatory lunge.

What does this mean, he would ask himself as he did now. Who is this man? And why is he always attacking me? He couldn't think of a proper answer for all this. Were these dreams premonitions of an impending future, or perhaps he had been looking into someone else's life? When he told his grandmother, she assumed that it was the work of el cuco. Admittedly, it made him laugh, but given what he could do himself, she might have been on to something.

Maybe there is a boogeyman out there forcing me to have these dreams…

Joaquín sighed again and moved to sit at the edge of his bed. No point in trying to get my sleep back, he thought. So there he sat for the next few minutes, wracking his brain as to what he should do for today. He figured he could talk to one of the promoters to schedule a fight. Ever since he defeated Juanito in public, everyone had been wanting a piece of him, which raised his spirits. He loved a good fight, and he hoped that these people could give him a challenge. Maybe he could invite Della to watch him.

And just like that, his thoughts on fighting came to a full stop in favor for her. Della. The friend he had met some weeks ago. Her presence, her very name, sent an odd, yet pleasant shiver down his spine. She was a very nice girl to be around. She didn't judge him for who he was or what he did for a living, plus she showed interest in his incredible abilities. Della was someone he could sit down with and feel comfortable to talk about anything. It was as if they had been friends for a long time.

His other friends, nice as they were, couldn't exactly compare to her. Not even the other girls he used to associate with. They somehow didn't hold a candle to this strange girl who had recently entered his life, who he went out of his way to hang out with every chance he got and even stand up for her. And with that thought, Joaquín knew exactly what he was going to do today. No fights. No bullshit. Just spending time with her.

Joaquín rubbed his eyes and got dressed in his usual attire and jacket. He then took out a scrap of paper to write a note to his grandmother, telling her where he went and promising her dinner when he returned. He didn't have to worry about breakfast or lunch, as she's been feeling slightly better enough to get out of bed. Joaquín left his room and peeked into her's to stick it on the inside of her door before he left into the cool autumn air. He figured he could pay her an early visit and discuss his dream.

He needed to, especially considering that this time, it ended differently.

~+JO*JO+~

Della had told Joaquín where she lived, despite never having been there. It was about six blocks down from his apartment. Since he knew she would probably be asleep (today was her day off), he decided not to go through the entrance of the apartment and instead used the fire escape on the side of the building to reach her room. Fifth floor was her's. After climbing the ladder up to her window, he knocked on it and waited. He was greeted by a mop of brown hair covering a girl's face, which rested upon a large and loose grey shirt.

"What do you want," said Della groggily.

"Hey Cousin It," joked Joaquín. She pushed her hair back and looked amused. "You got a few minutes?"

"Jojo, it's almost six thirty. You know I sleep in on my days off."

"I know that, but this is kind of important. I wanted to talk to you about these dreams I keep having."

Joaquín thought she would huff and shut the window in his face, but she opened it wider for him to enter, her expression now concerned. "Come in. Talk to me."

Her room was much cleaner than his mess back home. Her desk was occupied with several organized folders and books, along with some pictures of her and her family. The most recent seemed to have her mother and father, along with two elderly people he assumed were her grandparents. Della's bed, next to her desk, had several plush bears around her. It was actually cute. Della must have noticed where he was looking because she hurriedly said, "Those are my little sister's."

He caught the lie at once. "You don't have a sister."

"Dang it," she muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. No need to be embarrassed." He sat down on the chair across from her bed. "Sorry for waking you up this early. I just really wanted to talk to someone about this."

"I'm not upset." Della sat the edge of the bed, legs crossed and curious. "So, what are these dreams you keep having?"

"Well, I've been having them on and off for four years. And they all happen the same way." And so he began telling her about the dreams, starting with the first one. He was in a mansion, caught in a horrible inferno. The cold-faced man stalked his way up a wall as Joaquín escaped to the roof. He appeared just as he was ready to escape. The second one was at the edge of some balcony. The man was already lunging as Joaquín ran his fist through the flames of a candle to strike. And then there was this morning's dream.

"I can never understand it. Four years of the same dreams. Four years. Same person, same ending. You never usually dream about stuff like this unless you've gone through something traumatic. And trust me, the most traumatic thing I've dealt with was dad's death, and even then I didn't have recurring nightmares about it.

Della had stood very attentive to her friend. Not once did she blink or show disinterest. When he had finished, she asked him, "Have you met anyone like him before?"

"No. Not at all. I have some blonde friends, but they're not like him. This guy felt... inhuman. Everything about him, from his voice to those cold eyes. He looked like he didn't belong in this world… And the way he sounded when he went after me, you'd think he knows me or something..."

"Does he," asked Della.

"I don't know… but…" He thought for a second, wondering if he should tell her what happened this time. He didn't want to worry her, but she would be more concerned if he stood silent. So, that was when he looked her in the eye and said, "He called me by my nickname."

"Jojo?"

"Yes."

"T-The one I gave you?"

"Yes."

"Do you think maybe it just inserted that name since you heard me call you that?"

"No... It felt too real… as if he really does know me. Or at least, another person named Jojo."

As he had expected, her face was one of shock. But it wasn't powerful enough to render her speechless, as she thoughtfully said, "Maybe this 'Jojo' he's talking about is a relative. Like… Maybe you're looking into the life of someone with that name."

"I kinda thought that myself before. It would make sense, but... who's life would it be? I just can't understand it… This has never happened until today… When I woke up, I felt this horrible chill in my heart. Those words were so cold and venomous… And he never spoke in that dream. In none of them. He just made this horrible screech each time. Like this." He cleared his throat and made a low, quiet and guttural sound in the back of it; a hiss he could have sworn he had heard in a movie once. "Wrrryyy..."

He saw Della shiver, and it was evident that his recreation of that monster's screech had the effect of scaring her. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to spook you, Della,"

"No, no," reassured Della, calming herself down. "It's okay… I'm not used to that kind of stuff, that's all…" She then reached out and gently touched his shoulder. It had a rather calming effect on him, making his tense body relax. "Jojo?"

"Yeah," he asked softly. His nickname sounded so endearing, her voice filled with care.

"I know these dreams are rather frightening, but… they're not real. Thet can't be. They're just dreams. Just think positively. This man in your dreams, he might not even be real. And whether he is or not, he's not going after you. It's not happening now. You're here. And you're with me... Jojo, you're safe. I promise you that."

Those green eyes held so much emotion in them. He could easily tell how she was feeling just be looking into those orbs. Right now, he could see just how much she cared for her friend. And it put him at ease knowing someone like her does give a damn when others would laugh or just treat him like he was just joking around. They reminded him of the way his grandmother would look at him at times. And that made him smile.

"Thank you, Della," he said.

"No problem, Jojo." And then, she did something he hadn't seen her do yet. She blushed. It looked quite unlike her. "Say, why don't you come sleep with me? You look tired. Maybe we could go out later, too. Take a trip through Queens or something. Does that sound good?" Normally, Joaquín would decline to sleep with her, just out of respect for her. But he was really tired, now that she mentioned it. And having some company to join him sounded more than welcoming.

"You know, that actually sounds good," and Joaquín stood up, giving her room to get back under her covers. She left it open for him to join her, which he did after taking off his shoes and jacket. The bed felt as cold as the air outside, but he didn't mind. It was comfortable. And he got to share it with his friend. Then, almost out of nowhere, he felt her come closer to him and wrap her arm around his chest. The bed didn't make him freeze up, but her sudden action did. "Um, what're you-"

"Just focus on sleeping," she interrupted, her eyes closed and her voice gentle and tired. "I promise I'll make you something to eat when we're up... Some good ol' pancakes in strawberry syrup... Now relax, Jojo... You're tensing up..."

The shock of her holding him slowly wore off, and his muscles went lax. Della nuzzled into him, the sight of which made him wonder. Do you really feel comfortable around me like this, Della? This isn't too awkward or forward for you? He wanted to think so. that his presence was indeed a comforting one for her. But before he could think any further about this, he felt the alluring pull of sleep make him close his eyes and return to his rest.

Thanks to Della, his sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

~+JO*JO+~

The rest of the day went perfect for the two. It began with Della keeping her word when it came to breakfast. Pancakes, strawberry syrup, and some bacon as an added bonus. After that, they left her home and hit the streets of their city. She led him to a different antique store, where they browsed around the near-forgotten knick-knacks of yesteryear. Then later, Joaquín showed her several Spanish stores along the streets. One of them even had similar paintings to the ones he had at home

Lunch soon came around, and Della decided to partake in some Spanish food. They stopped at his favorite bodega and bought several food items he wanted her to try. "This is bacalao," he pointed out to the fried, fishy sheet in his napkin. "Codfish. It's really good. And this," he pointed to a fried potato ball Della held, "is relleno de papa. My abuelita makes them with chicken, but most of the time, stores make them with beef"

It was evident she deeply enjoyed the food

There wasn't much excitement, which was good. Nobody was out for Joaquín's blood, nor did he stop for any fights, something he purposefully avoided. He saw no need to today. Della was with him. And though he wouldn't mind bringing her to one, he would rather enjoy the peace of her company, which says a lot. She seemed to have quite the effect on him while she was around, and he was certain it had nothing to do with any spirit (which she may or may not end up having).

It was five thirty when Joaquín and Della were both heading back to his place so he could order everyone some pizza. He figured he ought to, seeing as how he did promise his grandmother he'd handle dinner. "Anything you like on yours," he asked as he yawned. "I don't do vegetables on mine."

"Nothing special," replied Della. "I'm up for anything."

"I guess some pepperoni and bacon ought to do. Any particular soda?"

"Pepsi?"

"Works for me."

"Excuse me, sir." It was a kind and deep voice that spoke now. They turned to the speaker and found a young man sitting at a table outside a coffee shop, a deck of cards face-down beside him. He looked African, his youthful, broad-chinned face lined with symmetrical scars going down his cheeks from near his tear ducts. His short hair was pulled into several tails atop his head. And hanging from his ears were several gold talismans linked together in some intriguing necklace of sorts, resting on his brown cloak.

"Forgive me for stopping you both," he continued, "but would you be interested in a tarot reading?" The man gestured to the deck. A tarot reading? He knew all about them, that they read into one's personal questions and answered them through cards. While they often weren't accurate, they did intrigue him.

"Actually, sure," said Joaquín, as he took a seat in front of him. Della stood by, watching this mysterious man. "Um, how much do you charge?"

"$25. However, for you, I shall do it for free."

"A free tarot reading?" How often do you get a freebie on these? "Thank you. So what do I do? Do I tell you what I want and then you make a reading from there?"

"No," said the man kindly. "You clear your mind of everything. Ask yourself one thing. Focus on that question, then," he took the deck and shuffled them expertly in his hands, all before lining them all up before him, "you are to choose six cards. I shall read each one's meaning to you."

Joaquín closed his eyes for a second. Indeed, there was one question he had in mind. What did the future hold for him? Once his grandmother was... What was he to do? Where would life take him? He focused on this question and reopened his eyes, gazing down at the twenty-two cards lined up before him. He chose the first card, which the man set aside in front of him. They continued until they had six cards. The rest were swept back into one deck. And then, he drew the first.

"The Fool. The beginning of a new journey. A new, carefree chapter in your life. Every day is an adventure, one which grants the opportunity to grow and become whomever you aspire to be. This card encourages to take a leap of faith into the unknown. Risky, yes, but the reward is well worth it. The Fool also represents a vital choice you need to make in your life. A difficult one, at that. You are encouraged to believe in yourself; no matter which decision you make, the one who will always be right is you.

"The Moon. Your journey is marred by fear. Fear of the unknown, and fear of the past. You will lose your way and be left with a sense of misdirection. Nothing will seem as it should. Although given your previous card was in a positive light, this is not as bad as it seems. Open your heart. Release your fears and conquer them. Do not let them shape your destiny. Clear your mind and let intuition guide you through the dark. Open the path before you before it is too late.

"The Lovers. I see. This represents harmony, perfection, and, as you can guess, love. The trust you place in your significant other can allow both of you to overcome whatever life's obstacles come your way. It also represents choices. A dilemma shall arise during your journey, one where your choices are either right or wrong. Unlike The Fool, your choice here will have repercussions no matter what you choose. It is up to you to determine the weight of these consequences and act accordingly. And who knows? Your decision just might be a blessing.

"The Chariot. Reversed. You will feel a lack of control in your life due to fate. The pressure leads to misguided aggression and loss of direction. It is a daunting card, I know, but what you need at this time is to keep your focus. Turn your aggression into determination for whatever the future may bring you. Take control of what you can and not stress over what you cannot. Even when things do not go as planned, do not be afraid to take new experiences. They may just lead you to a new adventure.

"The Tower. Disaster, change, a great upheaval. Like the bolt of lightning depicted here, these can come at any unexpected time. You might not even be prepared for it. It is a card that opens your eyes to harsh realities, shaking the very foundations of your life. What you need to remember is this: with destruction comes creation. Though your foundations are destroyed, you can begin anew. You are awakened to the truth, and by learning from your impacting experience, you will grow stronger and wiser.

"And lastly, The World. The journey's end. Throughout this, from start to end, you will endure many trials and hardships the likes of which you may not be prepared for. And yet, despite it all, you will come through fulfilled and more mature than when you began. Your experiences will all be worth it in the end when you finally achieve your goals, whatever they may be."

Joaquín stood in silence, attentive to every word this fortune-teller spoke. All in all, the reading did feel as if it pertained to his question. Where would his life lead him? Hardships, love, and a journey. One he needed to take, and one he knew he could accomplish. Everything that stood in his way, no matter how awful, he would overcome. He was confident about that.

The man swept the cards back into the deck and asked politely, "Do you feel satisfied with your reading, sir?"

Pulled from his thoughts, Joaquín hastily said, "Y-Yes. Yes, I am. It's… It was pretty insightful."

"My readings are usually not wrong. Whatever you go through in your life, approach it with your head raised and your eyes forward. Retrace your steps if you must and re-plan. But never stop in achieving your goals." This alone made Joaquín smile, for this man had the best interests at heart. His polite encouragement put him at ease in a manner similar to Della's presence. He wondered if he had that effect on anyone else.

With a shake of the man's hand, Joaquín got up and bid him farewell. As he got up out of his chair, he heard the man say, "By the way, sir. That is a very interesting birthmark."

This almost caught him off guard. He would have asked how he had seen it, but then he remembered that he had not brought his jacket with him when he left Della's apartment. It was rather plain to see by his neck. He turned back and said, "Yeah, it is. I've never seen anyone else with something like this. I'm surprised you didn't think it was a tattoo. A lot of people do."

"That star," he spoke carefully, "is both a blessing and a curse. Keep this in mind in your travels." He then smiled and bowed. "Have a pleasant evening, sir."

"Yeah, you too." He waved the man off as the two continued to walk.

The whole experience put an odd feeling in his stomach. The fortune-teller was certainly nice, and he had no doubt against his skills. But both the tarot reading and the ominous premonition about his birthmark was unsettling. Would this "journey" all be worth it? And was he both blessed and cursed? He wouldn't know until the time came for him to sit down and reflect on it all. For now, he simply shook his head and continued walking home with Della.

"Jojo," she asked in a concerned tone. "What's got you looking so serious?"

He turned to her and smiled. "I'm okay. Just doing a lot of thinking. That thing about my birthmark kinda shook me up."

"Well, my mom always said the same thing about strange birthmarks. That they would determine one's fate. But that's nothing too big to worry about. And that tarot reading, too?"

"Not as much as that cryptic warning. It was pretty interesting, but… I can only imagine."

"Those things aren't always accurate. Don't take it at face value too much. And even then, fate can change. We can't always put our faith in what cards tell us. We gotta make our life our own rather than let some fortune guide us. Cause then, what would happen if, in doing that, you end up going down a bad path?" She gripped his hand tightly, which made Joaquín's heart shudder and his smile grow brighter. "I don't wanna lose you. You're my friend… My best friend." And then, he did something he didn't expect he'd do.

He hugged her.

"You're my best friend too, Della," he said in a hushed voice, his friend reciprocating the hug. "You don't gotta worry about me that much. I'll be okay. I promise."

She then looked up at him, the way only a loved one would when they wanted reassurance. Della's wide eyes seemed brighter than he remembered. "You promise," she whispered.

"Promise," said Joaquín as they both let go and smiled. "Listen, it's almost six. We gotta head home and make the orders."

A look of panicked realization struck her face."Six? Oh no, I have my parents coming over! I forgot!" She turned red in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Jojo! I completely forgot! I should have told you!"

He shrugged, not at all bothered. "It's okay. It happens. You go on home, okay?"

"Send Lupe all my love, Jojo!" Joaquín nodded. After bidding his friend farewell, Joaquín ran all the way back to his apartment. He felt bad that she had forgotten something so important, but it was okay. We can have pizza another day.

When he arrived, he was greeted to the sight of his grandmother on her favorite chair, fast asleep. She looked very much at peace with her arms folded over her stomach and a smile on her lined face. Looking closer, he noticed something peculiar in her hands. It looked like a letter. That's weird, he thought. She normally reads her letters the minute she gets them. When he got closer, he saw a name written in her neat handwriting.

My name.

He ignored the letter for now and gently tried waking her up. "Abuelita, wake up," said Joaquín. "You fell asleep again." There wasn't a response. He tried again. "Abuelita, come on, wake up."

Something was wrong. She wasn't reacting. Being a light sleeper, his voice always woke her up. Something was definitely wrong. Dreading the worst, he took hold of her wrist with his fingertips. Her skin was cold. And he felt no pulse. Panic slowly set in as he went to shake her now, not caring about courtesy. "¡Abuelita! Abuelita, wake up! ¡Por favor, levántase! ¡Levántase!" His voice grew more and more frantic with each second of her silence. He couldn't stop the tears from forming in his eyes. His grandmother still didn't wake, no fluttering of the eyelids or the rise and fall of her bosom. Nothing.

And then, the harsh reality of the situation finally set in for poor Joaquín. She was gone. He had turned his back for a few hours and now, he had come back to his grandmother lying dead in her chair. He was absolutely beside himself. I… I didn't even get to say good-bye… His throat swelled, holding back his building scream. But his tears were uncontrollable, breaking loose as he immediately brought his grandmother into his shaky embrace. He lost her, just like he did his father. Her long-waged battle was lost. And now, he had nobody. No cousins, no aunts, uncles, no family to go to. Joaquín was alone.

The pain of loneliness and loss was too much to handle. His throat finally gave way to the anguished scream bottled up inside, tearing itself loose for the heavens to hear. He cursed at God in his native tongue, cursed him for taking away the last bit of family he had left. He would not stop until he lost his voice, reducing himself to hollow, yet pained sobs.

The neighbors must have heard him, for they came in and helped him off of her body. He did not object at all, but he did not stop crying. He just sat on the floor and held himself like a scared child as they called an ambulance for his grandmother. Nobody asked him any questions, respecting him in his time of tragedy. Not long after they made the call and left, he heard a familiar voice at the door.

"Joaquín…"

Looking up with watery eyes, he saw Della at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. His forgotten jacket hung loosely in her grip, which she tossed aside so as to drop to her knees and embrace him. He didn't stop her. Never had he felt so heartbroken in his life. Not even after his father died. He needed someone to lean on, and Della was the only person he would want to seek comfort with. And he knew she was more than willing to help him.

After all, they were best friends. He shouldn't have to grieve alone.

~LUPE TREJO: (1920~1988) RIP~.