“Where are you going all dressed up?” Charlie asked. “You’re even wearing shoes.”
“I have to go to a funeral over in Cayo,” I said. “Remember old George who used to do yard work for me?”
“Yes.”
“He was eighty-nine years old and he died of old age and probably pure meanness. I really like his wife, Ms. Lupe so I’m going to the funeral out of respect.”
Charlie said, “Didn’t George always call his wife the bruja when he was fighting with her.”
“Yeah, bruja means witch,” I said. “His favorite saying was, ‘Bruja, when I die I gone dig up out me grave and haint ye all yu life.’”
At the funeral Ms. Lupe told me, “Mr. Dennis, I done out lived him for spite. Finally, I gone get some peace and quiet.”
A neighbor lady came up and said, “Ms. Lupe, I wish I could say sorry for your loss but I really didn’t like George.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Conchita,” Ms. Lupe said. “Nobody else did either.”
“Well, a bunch of us people in town are worried about you,” Ms. Conchita said.
“About me? Why would you be worried about me?”
“We used to hear Mr. George all the time tell you ‘Bruja, when I die I gone dig up out me grave and haunted ye all yu life.’ You should be afraid he does it.”
“I ain’t afraid,” Ms. Lupe said. “He won’t do it.”
“How you know?”
“Let that old cabron dig,” Ms. Lupe said. “I had him buried face down and because he’s a man he’s way too proud to stop and ask for directions.”
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