VIVIDLY

As to be expected, I did not sleep much the remainder of the early morning. In addition to having slept the better part of our twelve hour drive, the fear of falling back into my nightmare kept me awake. I felt that if all grew just quiet enough I could hear Atzi’s scream start again. The knot that formed in my stomach each time the thought came to mind was enough to chase any chance of sleep away.

Atzi slept soundly until the alarm went off on her phone promptly at 6:30 am like it always does. As if anticipating it’s chime, Atzi sat up and immediately started her day. In addition to every other aspect of her perfection, Atzi never seemed to run low on energy. She met each day as indomitabley as the sun rises. She was almost like the sun itself, bright, welcoming, and too darn early.  It was her only trait that I slightly disliked, being staunchly against mornings as I was. Atzi, however, never let my negative feeling towards the AM hours daunt her. This morning was no exception. She went about humming cheerfully to herself as she made her bed.

“Already awake?” she called to me once she noticed my glare at her enthusiastic rising. 

“More like still awake,” I groaned.

“Oof, guess that’s because you slept most of the drive here.” 

Her tone was cheerful, non-judgmental,  sincere, and bright; and I got all the grumpier for it. 

“Yeah…no kidding.” I grunted through slightly gritted teeth.

“Oh come on!” She giggled, refusing to let my tone damper her morning spirit. “Let’s go have a day packed with fun and adventure. You’ll be so tired by tonight it will snap you back on a good sleep schedule!”

“Goody.” I moaned. It was incredibly hard to muster any enthusiasm for our vacation when I started out already wanting a nap. Despite my whole body being against the idea, I pulled myself out of bed. 

After getting ready, we enjoyed the hotel breakfast. Then headed out on Atzi’s private tour of Mexico City. Streets bustled with city life. We wandered through markets as vendors shouted excited invitations to view their goods. Beautful arrays of pinatas hung above our heads and long rows of fruits, meats, crafts, and clothing spanned around us. We meandered through a couple museums celebrating artists, culture, history, and music. Vibrant colors mixed with historic architecture.  

We didn’t really eat a true lunch, opting instead to purchase whatever caught our eye along the way. By the time we took what might be considered a lunch break, I had feasted on tamales, tacos al pastor, esquites, and just about every churro in sight. 

Exhausted, I sat down to rest. I took in the view of the Fuente de Tlaloc from a nearby perch. Atzi sat next to me. She gazed at the fountain thoughtfully. 

“Tlaloc was the God of Rain.” She said,

“He and his wife ensured crops grew and the land flourished for the Aztec people. Together they ruled Tlalocan.”

“What’s Tlalocan?” I asked.

“A beautiful paradise in the afterlife. A jungle sprawling with rivers and fountians. Spring was endless there and everything was vibrant, blooming, and lush.” 

“You talk about it like it really existed.”

“It was real to the Aztecs. As real as the world we are in now. They believed in it so much they performed human sacrifices to assure favor of their gods.”

“Sheesh!” I protested, “Wonder how their gods felt about that.”

“Guess it depends on which on you ask.” She said. 

I started to laugh thinking she had made a joke but her face didn’t break into a smile or show any signs of humor. I caught my laugh and shifted it to a forced cough.

“So, what was his wife’s name?” I asked.

“Chalchiuhtlicue.” She said. She had made the pronunciation sound so effortless, it gave me a sense of false security in my ability to repeat it.

“Cha-chi-ooh-t-, never mind, I am not gonna even try.” I said, butchering the goddess’ name. 

Atzi Chuckled, “ You were doing pretty well.” 

“How do you know about all this Aztec stuff?” I asked.

“National Geographic,” she chuckled again, “and living here for a while helped.”

Her relaxed mood gave me the confidence to breach the subject that had been on my mind, “Atzi,” I started hesitantly, “What was that symbol on the wall yesterday?”

She must have been anticipating this question. Her expression barely changed as if she was resisting tensing her muscles. There was so little change it was obviously forced in an attempt to appear nonchalant. 

“The what?” she asked fainting apathy.

“The snake thing by the restaurant.” I pressed,

“Oh yeah. Well, it’s hard to say, it was a very modern style trying to look Aztec. Just someone doodling, If I had to guess it was probably a depiction of atl tlachinolatlli.”

The word registered in my memory as what Atzi had called it yesterday under her breath.

“What’s that?” I ventured.

“It’s the symbol for war. It means “water, burnt earth”, because it represents water and fire intertwined, usually as snakes. The concept is the chaos caused when opposites meet. Like, I said though, it was just someone messing around because the actual Aztec symbol is pretty different from that, Or maybe it is some new gang symbol.”

Her dismissal of the graffiti made me all the more curious.

“Why did it bother you?” I attempted to jump to the point before I lost momentum. Either I was too eager or it would not have mattered; Atzi clammed up immediately.

“It didn’t.” she said curtly. “Let’s get going. I want us to check out the Pyramid of the Sun next.”

She was up and off before I had even had time to realize our conversation was over. I got up and followed her now with even more questions swimming in my mind.