Blessed Virgin of the Circus-2.

Illustration by Karla Usagi

At the meeting, LaShawn reminded everyone that Buddy and the Hi-Lites were going to be playing as the food court band for the next two weeks. Then a week with no band, then Kid Kong and His Oldies But Goodies for the rest of the run. Mara thought back. She was pretty sure both she and Yana had slept with the guitarist of the Hi-Lites. Unlike Yana, though, she just barely remembered the experience. It wasn’t sex. She’d blown Rick in his trailer. They were all cute rockabilly/ska players. Rick was really into it and wanted to fuck her until the guys had come home early and cockblocked them. She still didn’t really care either way. She’d stopped trying to hook up with any of them 9 or 10 months ago at this point. She wondered whether Rick would come back expecting something. Manuel, who played both trumpet and upright bass, had a jaw-dropping crush on Mara and she would usually roll his eyes at his teenage behavior. Yana loved to brag about her liaisons with all the guys. Mara just brushed it off. It was something to do but nothing compared to her meetings with the Virgin. She got bored drinking beers and pretending to like to fuck.

“Hey, why do you talk funny? Is that an accent or something?” The dumb bass guitar player was the worst and always asked questions like that. Mara never even remembered his name.

“My parents didn’t speak English very well.”

“Fucking wierdass foreigner.”

“Aren’t your parents Salvadoran? Shut the fuck up and drink your beer.”

“Go stuff a cock in her, Rick.”

Mara forcefully shoved their trailer door open so that it banged on the re-closure.

**

The blood was almost in a thick pool in the statue’s hands today. The vision she had seen six months ago had been utterly terrifying. In it, the Virgin held a severed head in her left hand and a sword in her right. Blood had streamed from the corners of her mouth. The hem of her gold-bordered garment was sopping with red-black liquid. The sky went from silver to gold as heavy golden rays pierced the landscape, eventually flooding the carnage with a blinding light. In other dreams, sometimes the Virgin would be wearing a short, blood-red cloak. In one, dogs barked behind her and scavenged. It appeared as though she were looking for the body of her son amidst the wreckage. Sometimes a river of blood would rise, sweeping away all the rubble of the battlefield.