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La Llorona Prays at the Hospital, written and read by Maria Rodriguez Bross

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Raquel expected everyone to stop calling her La Llorona on the day her son collapsed at the bodega. She had earned that nickname due to her history of weeping episodes. You told her Fulana moved away. She cried without even knowing her. You told her parking was prohibited. She cried for others when she herself didn't even own a car. You told her about the novella episode she missed. She cried, even when the details were happy ones. God forbid you looked Raquel in the eye. She'd lose control and sob for most of the day. Her mother knew of this problem when she was a little girl and took her to the botanica, but all the santero did was place his hands on her head and hum. Nothing worked. Raquel grew up to be a crier, and people calling her La Llorona behind her back was based in truth. That was, until the day she learned her fifteen year old son was in the hospital's intensive care unit instead of school. On that day, Raquel abandoned her cashier station and marched into her boss' office. She stared at him blankly and calmly said she was leaving work early due to a personal matter. Some noted that she didn't even bother to take off her smock. So when she arrived at the emergency room, the nurse, who had called the supermarket, quickly identified her as the mother. "Your son's been intubated. We need to wait twenty four hours," the nurse said. Raquel didn't know what intubated meant, but when she saw that her son had a plastic tube inserted into his mouth that came out through his nose, she quickly understood that he was reliant on a ventilator. And the only question she had was, "Why are his eyes swollen and bruised?" The nurse paused from adjusting his IV and raised her eyebrow to respond. "No one told you he fell on his face after the asthma attack?" Raquel shook her head no. The nurse offered her a chair next to her son's bed, to which Raquel refused. She could hear whistling sounds coming from his tube and then asked the nurse if she could give him some pain meds. But the nurse refused, and explained that those meds could make her son sleepy. "The doctor wants him to remain awake," she said. Upon hearing this, Raquel clenched her hands into fists. But as soon as the nurse left the room, Raquel relaxed a bit, sat down, and held her son's hand. And that's when she noticed remnants of dry tears along both of his cheeks, and she heard him wince. She didn't know what else to do. So she hummed a lullaby and gently placed her other hand on the side of her son's head. But as they both nearly shut their eyes, Raquel let go of his hand, and her son lost control of his limbs. His hands and arms began flinging wildly around him. Raquel inched closer to calm him down, and that's when he inadvertently poked her in the eye. Raquel stumbled backwards and her son's IV machine started beeping. The nurse rushed back in and shouted, "his oxygen level is low!" Another nurse stormed in behind her, and then led Raquel outside of the room and pointed down the hallway. "The best you can do is pray," the nurse said. Raquel's lips quivered at the nurse's departure. She leaned over, held her stomach, and that's when she saw drops of blood fall to the floor. She felt the pain and immediately covered her eye with her hand. She scurried towards the nurse's station for help and approached a woman wearing a white lab coat, pressing her forehead. But before she could say anything, someone brushed her away and said, "I'm sorry, doctor." Raquel was ignored. So she continued her walk in the crowded hallway, hoping to get help. But instead she saw mothers crying, one cradling her child and another being questioned by police about the bruises on her child's neck, and in her distraction, a middle aged man bumped right into Raquel without apology. The man fell into a nearby chair while an elderly crying woman rushed over to comfort him. She looked up at Raquel and said "Don't mind him. His son was shot tonight. Keep moving." Raquel nodded and continued until she reached the end of the hallway. There she looked up and saw a sign that read chapel. She gently pushed the door open and was immediately met by a congregation of men and women, young and old. She looked for a place to sit and managed to find a space in one of the middle pews, and there Raquel sighed deeply and took off her smock, which she used to wrap around her head and cover her injured eye. And with her good eye, she noticed those around her were kneeling, praying and crying. She wanted to join them, but she could not cry. So she knelt and pretended to pray with her right eye open. And that's when she heard the whispers of a woman in the front pew wearing a black veil that hid her face. Raquel covered her ears and tried to focus on praying, but the woman's whispers became louder and soon turned into shouts and then screams and then wails until her sounds drowned out everyone else's noise. "Make La Llorona stop!" said someone sitting in the crowd. "She should cry for what she did," said another. Raquel gasped and put her hands on her heart. She couldn't believe the lack of compassion. So she took it upon herself to stand up. And right before she approached La Llorona to offer comfort, someone shouted, "Don't get too close!" Raquel nodded and saw those that were kneeling sat back down and those that were praying opened their eyes. As Raquel inched closer, she saw that La Llorona's bare feet were chained to the kneeling bench, which forced her into a praying position. But Raquel still could not see her face. So she gently touched La Llorona on her shoulder, and that's when La Llorona grabbed Raquel by the wrist and forced her to kneel alongside her, chanting, Help my child. And that's when Raquel remembered her own child. So she got up to leave, but soon realized she too was chained to the kneeling bench. Raquel closed her eyes and prayed for La Llorona to go away. And while she prayed, La Llorona tried to rip off the smock off of Raquel. And that's when Raquel fought back and pulled the veil off of La Llorona's head. The cries stopped. And then there was silence. And then there were beeps. And then a voice. "Your son is off the ventilator," the doctor said. The nurse opened the shades to let the morning sun pour into the room. But the glare hurt Raquel's eyes. And so she crouched down and buried her head in her arms. "Don't cry, Mom. I'm okay," he said. A few weeks later, Raquel returned to work. And on her first day back, Raquel's phone rang while she was working the cash register. She missed the call, so she excused herself and ordered her boss to cover her while she stepped away. Raquel texted her son to call back right away before she stepped into the restroom. And while she waited, she took a peek in the mirror and saw her left eye was bruised and swollen. She gasped and let out a low scream. But despite that outburst of it, she could not cry. She paced back and forth to calm her heart rate. And then she said a little prayer help my child. And that's when her phone rang. "I want to go to the bodega after school. Is that all right, Mom?" Raquel breathed a sigh of relief and said yes. And when she returned to her workspace, she noticed that her co-workers, her boss, and even the customers were staring. So she asked, "What? You've never seen a woman wearing an eye patch?" No one dared to answer her. After all, she had earned that eye patch and not through prayer alone. We know this to be true because from that day on no one called her La Llorona ever again.