I hope you enjoy reading the story as it progesses and the recipes I've developed as much as I enjoy sharing that part of my imagination with you. Con mucho cariño, les presento, The Wailing Mist.
Santo Domingo’s Restaurant opened for the lunch crowd at 11:30 each day, Monday through Saturday. Today, Friday, was no different except that schools were closed due to an in-house training day. Lizzie and Eric, Marisol and Joe’s kids had the day off and had to go to the restaurant with their parents until the baby-sitter could pick them up.
Marisol and Joe Veracruz were a young couple starting their new adventure as restaurant owners. This was their second month of operations and things were looking good. They couldn’t be happier, except for the hiccup in the school not having classes for the day.
Joe unlocked the doors to Santo Domingo’s right at eight o’clock. Mari was adamant about following a tight schedule in her kitchen and getting food on the table for the hungry horse trainers, jockeys and area businessmen that came in during the week. Most of her customers came from the Sunland Park Racetrack that was right up the road. Oh, the racetrack had a magnificent buffet, but the waiting time to get in normally took as long as these people’s lunch hours lasted. This meant that the buffet was certainly successful, but it also meant that Santo Domingo’s would share in that success due to the overflow.
Mari, short for Marisol, went straight into work mode leaving Joe to watch the children until the baby-sitter showed up. Carmen and Moises, the restaurant’s only other employees, would clock in at 8:30.
Kids being kids, Lizzy and Eric started getting a little restless. Joe decided it was time for a walk along the river’s edge to keep them occupied and keep Mari’s mind on her cooking. Walking the half mile trek to the banks of the Rio Grande in hopes of catching sight of some migrating birds flying over the river seemed like a great way to enjoy some time with his beloved children.
“Hey, Chula”, Joe said, trying really hard to sound endearing, “I’m taking the kids for a walk. I’ve got my cell phone if you need me.”
“Hold up Joe. I don’t know if this is a good idea. It’s cold outside and the kids are bound to get dirty playing around in the sand and mud. They can just wait here until Irma shows up for them”
“Mari, it’s not cold. This is El Paso, not Santa Fe. It’s gorgeous outside. I promise I won’t let them get dirty. We just want to see if we can catch the ducks flying over, then we’ll come back. By that time Carmen and Moises should be here. It’ll be OK, baby. I promise.”
The children were so excited. Lizzy snuck out some bread crumbs from the kitchen to throw into the water hoping to get close enough to maybe even touch one of “the duck brothers” as she called them referring to Huey, Louie, and Dewy.
Joe and the kids presented the typical family outing. Lizzy and Eric were running and laughing and Joe kept yelling at them not to get too close to the edge of the riverbank or they might scare the birds away (if they ever show up, Joe thought). He was having a great time with his son and his daughter. Thoughts about the dangers involved with slippery mud, jutting rocks, and tree roots sticking out of the ground and into the water, just waiting for little feet to trip over them, were far from his mind.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
The honking of Carmen’s car, as she drove up the side road to Santo Domingo’s, had drawn Joe’s attention. Carmen waved a hello to him and then turned her sight back to the road and continued on to the restaurant.
During the few seconds that it took for Joe to turn and wave back at Carmen, tiny Eric saw the first duck glide down onto the river. He ran towards the bank and slipped in the mud, sliding right into the water. Lizzy, being the responsible older sister ran towards Eric to give him a hand but instead slipped in along with her brother.
In the few seconds it took Joe to turn his head back from waving at Carmen, the swift current was already moving both of his little ones rapidly away.
Without hesitation, Joe ran to the bank and jumped in after them. By now, a couple of bird watchers who had been sitting back from the bank cataloguing the various species had come running up to the river’s edge and were yelling at Joe.
“They’re over there! Over there!” yelled the couple. Joe heard some mumbling voices but with water in his ears and fear in his heart he couldn’t make out the words.
The children were so small and so light they were being carried away quickly by the moving water. The bird watchers could almost taste the bitter panic rising in the air.
Normally, the Rio Grande ran dry the farther south it ran along the borders between Mexico, New Mexico and Texas. Not this year. Colorado had experienced an abnormally high amount of snow and rain over the previous two years. This created major flooding in that state and it had filled the river all the way down through New Mexico and the border region of Texas to the Gulf of Mexico causing the currents to be that much stronger. A placid surface masked a deceivingly treacherous undercurrent.
Joe, regretting every extra beer and taco he’d ever consumed and, not being that good a swimmer anyway, was having trouble reaching the children. He felt a tug under the water. He couldn’t even imagine what it was. The strong undertow was just too much for him, and he was pulled under.
Struggling madly, he was able to regain control and get back to the surface, desperately looking for any sign of Lizzy and Eric. He could just barely see the tops of their heads about 40 yards away. Joe prayed with all of his might that he could reach them in time.
A second undercurrent dragged Joe deeper into the muddy water. This time, he was pulled deeply enough to hit his head on a large root from the mulberry trees sticking out of the bank jutting into the river a few feet under the water. He struggled to keep his eyes open and his thoughts together. All he could think of were his son and his little princesa, Lizzy.
He managed to resurface one more time, though swimming was getting more and more difficult. He grabbed on to some over-hanging branches sticking out right above the water’s edge but could no longer see the children. Terror filled his mind and brackish water filled his throat.
“Dios mio, ayudame, please help me God,” Joe sobbed as he asked God for help and dove in, thinking that perhaps if he swam under the surface he could get to them faster.
He was wrong.
[This work of fiction is condensed from the original to save you some eyesight and entice you to read the story. I started working on this project several years ago when life was a bit lighter and easier than it is now. As life went on and life got more difficult, I put this project on the “back-burner” and literally forgot all about it until recently.
I simply decided that it was time to resurrect The Wailing Mist and Mari to remind me of the strength that a simple woman with goals and a love so deep for her family could gather in the midst of her troubles.
Because Mari is a self-taught cook of extraordinary ingenuity, there will be recipes, most of which I have developed in my own kitchen, dispersed throughout the length of the project. Thank you for being kind in reading and sharing Mari's adventure with me.]
© Cordero-Cordell, 2010
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