Meeting the bony woman
The tiny casita glowed in apricot hues and beamed welcoming blue trim around the doorway. The mixed scent of flowers and earth hung in the air like rich incense. Ducking under a brilliant mauve bougainvillea, Sharon Advena pushed open the unlocked door with her patterned sarong and turned to unload the storage boxes on the tile floor. Tossing her fifty-five old brown curls at the hallway mirror, Sharon congratulated herself on real estate investments which, enabled her early retirement to this little piece of Mexican paradise. Her face with its aquiline nose, set lips and keen eyes returned a satisfied smile. Flinging herself on the woven blanket covering the sofa, she sighed deeply with relief. The flight from Vancouver to Guadalajara and the drive to the lakeside village of San Juan de Hidalgo had made for a long tiring day.
“But what is SHE doing here!”
Sharon’s lips curled downwards at the small bundle of dry bones moving imperceptibly in the living-room corner of her rented casita.
“ I thought I locked you up! Thrown away in a shoebox marked ‘Do not open until after Death’! What’s this? Tracking me down to Mexico! Is this some kind of Day of the Dead thing?”
The bones began to flex and knit grotesquely, until the Bony Woman reassembled herself from the pile of bones in the corner.
Decaying corn teeth champed loosely under deep black eye sockets, grinning, “Mind your manners, my dear! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to speak ill of the dead?”
A bony claw pushed the elegant hat with its flowers and great feather plumes jauntily to the side of her skull. Then the skeleton pulled herself upright.
“Besides. I was getting tired of waiting for you in Mexico. But then… I’ve plenty of time and you, mi amigacita, have very little!”
Sharon’s best drop-dead-at-a-hundred-yards glare discharged swiftly, “Oh! That Mexican jag about death sweetening life? That kind of talk gets pretty boring after awhile.”
“Sí! But I haven’t visited to bore you, amiga. By the way do you have a cerveza?”
Sharon shuddered at the dried pieces of flesh, corroding the joints that pointed to her small refrigerator. Still it seemed vaguely impolite to argue with a guest even if it was one’s own Death. She opened the fridge and reached for the six-pack of beer. While she poured slowly and deliberately, Sharon glanced furtively back to the corner. With a brittle clatter of bones, the skeleton was rearranging her framework before sinking into the heavy chair of dark Jalisco leather.
“Damn! She’s starting to make herself comfortable. I hope she’s not planning to stay long. It’s bound to mess up a perfectly good day!”
Sharon handed the drink to the Bony Woman who raised the glass, toasting her hostess with a hearty, “Salud!”
The calavera then lifted the bubbling cerveza to her jawbone, cracking it wide open. As the amber liquid streamed down a former throat, the beer squirted wildly between the vertebrae and the rib cage.
“You’re making a terrible mess!”
“Exactly. Life is a little messy. Not all neat and tidy like you like it."
“You just wasted that whole beer!”
“Yes. But the bigger question is begging! You’re wasting the moment!”
Crimson crept up Sharon’s neck and exploded into words, “What the devil are you getting at! I’m staying good and busy; I’m still productive. I’ve a nice place to stay, plenty of money, friends here and family in Canada. I resent your implication. I’m not wasting anything! Besides, I recycle!”
“Pressed a wee button, I have!” The gleaming skull grimaced with glee. “Yes. You have it ALL. All wrapped up. Everything in its place and a place for everything. And you call that living!”
Drawing a deep breath, Sharon rushing on doggedly, “I’m not neglecting the future either. I’ve got a small but steady pension from my company. I’ve got good investments, mutual funds, RRSP’s, accident insurance, capital and liquid assets. I’ll be comfortable until the day that I die in my sleep!”
“That’s precisely why I tracked you down here. You completely deny death’s reality. Death for you is clean and antiseptic. Your intellect has completely anesthetized your feelings. Those things you mentioned are very useful but not as all-important as you make them. In Canada you so cleverly cotton-wrap yourself in a little cocoon of sham security. There I could never find
