Rogelia's House of Magic

by Jamie Martinez Wood

  Twenty-six

  Marina sat up straight and held the journal out in front of her. Despite the fact that they were doing magic in public, Marina didn’t care one bit what passersby might think. She felt proud and empowered to be doing a spell to help Rogelia. She had a passion for magic she had never felt for anything before.

  Marina opened the journal. She read through her entry and hesitated. All too quickly, her newfound confidence faltered.

  You can do it, Marina, Graciela said in her ear. Xochitl needs to feel your honesty.

  Just speak from your heart, the woman said.

  Marina took a deep breath and read:

  Fern and I went to see Los Lobos tonight. She said I’m not a pocha anymore, and that really feels good.:) When I looked into the faces of the concertgoers, I felt like I belonged to the Latino family. I wish it wasn’t so difficult to even be Mexican in my own house. My mom calls the old neighborhood a barrio, like that’s a bad word and no one would ever want to live there. I wish I didn’t care what she says. She’s so mean sometimes, I’m not even sure she deserves my love. Rogelia would never make me feel so bad. She makes me feel good about myself. She’s taught me to trust the voices I hear.

  Marina looked up from the journal. “I’m sorry about the barrio part,” she said apologetically.

  “It’s not as if we never noticed, Marina,” Fern said pointedly.

  Marina stared at Fern in wide-eyed astonishment. “I thought I had done such a great job of hiding it.”

  “Really?” Fern asked with a mix of shock and pity.

  Marina glanced uncomfortably at Xochitl, wondering if she dared to go on. She had to. “I didn’t think my mom’s arrogance had the slightest effect on me until you and your nana came into my life.” Marina looked down at her jeans and plucked at the hem of her pocket. “I never bothered to learn anything about being Mexican before. I mean, I ate the food and all, and was pretty happy to be able to tan better than most, but that was it.” She chewed her fingernails and when she next spoke, her voice shook with emotion. “I feel like such a self-centered snob.”

  “For your family, being Mexican has been a choice,” Xochitl said matter-of-factly.

  “I can’t help wondering if my nana would have kept the family closer or further away from our Mexican culture. I mean, who started this refusal to accept our Mexican side?” Marina listened intently for an answer from the voices, but none came. “I guess it doesn’t matter. But I don’t like how my mom keeps me from it. It’s not right.”

  “You know what, Marina, I feel sorry for your mom,” Fern said. “She has no pride in where she is from.”

  “She makes me feel so small,” Marina said. “I hate that she can affect me so much. She tries to dictate my identity, choosing my clothes and how my room is decorated.”

  “But look at you, breaking away,” Fern said soothingly, leaning around the candles to give Marina a hug.

  “Yeah,” Marina conceded.

  “I think you’re really brave.” Xochitl jumped in on the hug and they all three fell over. Fern and Xochitl rolled off and resumed sitting cross-legged in front of their candles. “You might just have to accept your mother the way she is,” Xochitl told Marina. “Kind of like I have to accept that Graciela is no longer with me.”

  “Her personality defects don’t have to mean anything about you. We all choose our identity by what we choose to focus on,” Fern said, shaking her head thoughtfully.

  “You sound like Nana,” Xochitl quipped.

  “Well, that’s kind of my lesson here,” Fern admitted.

  “Good, let’s get me off the hot seat,” Marina urged with a sigh.

  “Marina, you should try to talk to your mom,” Fern insisted. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Marina smiled.

  Fern nodded, took the journal, and opened it to the picture she had drawn of Tristán. She showed the book to Marina and Xochitl. “I really like Tristán.”

  “This is new information?” Marina asked playfully.

  “Well, to me it is,” Fern said, giggling. “I’ve been stopping myself from liking him because of that gray aura I saw around him on the first day we met.”

  “You’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover,” Marina teased.

  “Yeah, well, I thought gray meant really bad news,” Fern replied. “What I didn’t understand was that auras are like paintings of our feelings. I didn’t realize that until I saw a gray aura around you in the hospital, Marina, and you told me you were feeling fearful. Before, I thought the color was about the type of person you are, like your identity. I saw the same gray aura around Ruben Gomez when he was talking with Analisa. And you know the rumors about Ruben.”

  “Those are just rumors,” Marina said with a dismissive wave.

  “Analisa and Ruben are dating,” Xochitl pointed out. “Even I know that.”

  “See?” Marina said.

  “Then I saw Tristán talking with all sorts of girls whenever he was at Bolsa Chica,” Fern said. “But at least one of them turned out to be his cousin.”

  Marina laughed. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to ask Rogelia about the auras?”

  “I think she wanted me to find out on my own,” Fern said.

  “She doesn’t exactly hand out answers,” Xochitl said.

  “So what’s the problem?” Marina asked. “You’ve figured out Tristán isn’t a shady guy, so now you can go for him.”

  “Except for the fact that I’ve totally dissed him and now he doesn’t want to speak to me,” Fern moaned with her head in her hands.

  “How hard did you try?” Xochitl asked. “How many times?”

  “Once,” Fern replied.

  “You’ve gotta try more than that,” Marina encouraged, putting her hand on Fern’s shoulder.

  “What if he rejects me again?” Fern wailed.

  “You never know,” Marina said. “He’s a really nice guy. Did I ever tell you he gave me a lift that night after Rogelia healed us?”

  “No!” Fern said, stunned. “That would have been helpful information.”

  “You’re so hard-headed, it would have only confused you more,” Marina said. “Plus, it wasn’t exactly a stellar experience to be stranded, then picked up by some guy because your mom won’t drive to come get you.”

  “He helped me, too,” Xochitl confessed.

  Fern whipped around to face Xochitl. “What?”

  “Yeah,” Xochitl said. “I’ll tell you about it, if you promise to tell Tristán you really like him.”

  “Okay,” Fern said, smiling. “But you have to promise to bring me a box of tissues if he says to bug off or something.”

  “Deal,” Xochitl agreed.

  Fern handed the journal to Xochitl. Gingerly Xochitl took the book and opened it to her poem. She handed the journal to Marina to read.

  “I’ve been holding back from you both,” Xochitl began slowly. She glanced around the gazebo as if waiting for more courage. Her gaze rested on a rose in full bloom. “When you guys first asked to learn about magic, I told myself it was Nana you were really interested in.”

  “Xochitl, that’s not true,” Fern protested, reaching out to touch Xochitl’s arm.

  “Give her a moment,” Marina insisted.

  Xochitl looked gratefully at Marina. “I missed Graciela so much. I just had to see her, talk to her if I could. I went to Four Crows by myself to get supplies to have a ceremony to summon Graciela’s spirit. I wasn’t sure if it would work. I’d lost a lot of faith in magic after the accident, but I was desperate. Tristán was at the store. I think he figured out what I was up to by the ingredients I bought, but he kept my secret. Never breathed a word of it to anyone.”

  Xochitl looked up to the sky before continuing. Marina thought she might begin to cry, her face looked so sad. “Only, the ritual didn’t work,” Xochitl whispered. “Which is why I was so angry at you, Marina. I had tried so hard to connect with her, and you made it seem so easy.”

  “I c
an’t imagine what it must be like to lose a sister,” Marina said, looking at her friend with compassion. “I guess it would make you feel all kinds of crazy things. Because I can tell you this: I care a heck of a lot more for our friendship than I do for hearing voices.” Marina took Xochitl’s hand and squeezed it.

  “And I’d give up seeing dancing lights everywhere if I had to, to keep from losing you,” Fern said, reaching out to hold Xochitl’s other hand.

  “I guess I have been holding on to Gracie so hard that I couldn’t bear the idea of moving on and making new friends,” Xochitl said.

  “Well, we are your friends, and we’ll be here for you, even if you just want to spend hours talking about her,” Fern said.

  “You don’t have to let Graciela go so completely, either,” Marina said. “She’s still here, watching over you.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Xochitl admitted. She smiled at her friends. “I feel a lot better telling you what I was thinking. And I’m really glad I was wrong.”

  Fern grabbed Marina’s and Xochitl’s hands. “Its funny how our magical talents play into these confessions,” she said mischievously. “Xochitl disappears in life in more than one way. Marina, you hear voices, and look at how you need to find a solid strength that has nothing to do with what others say.”

  Marina squeezed Fern’s hand. “And you need to stop jumping to rash and dramatic conclusions just because of what you see.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Fern said.

  Marina looked from Xochitl to Fern and smiled widely. Rogelia had been right. Marina felt more connected to Fern and Xochitl than she had ever felt to anyone.

  “So is that it?” Fern asked.

  “No, I think we should do a limpia for Nana,” Xochitl said. “First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll perform it in Nana’s room. Tonight we can each gather whatever we need.”

  “Using our intuition,” Fern added with a wink.

  “Then we’ll take the bus back here so no one has to know,” Marina concluded. “It’s time to rely on ourselves.”

  Bright and early the next day, Marina, Xochitl, and Fern returned to the hospital. Tiptoeing as fast as they could, they rushed down the hall toward Rogelia’s room. Fern opened the door, and the three of them sneaked inside. Rogelia lay unconscious on her hospital bed with a peaceful expression on her wrinkled face. The monitors beeped in time with the drip, drip of her IV.

  Marina took a moment to muster up her nerve. Rogelia looked so weak, laying there unconscious. The healer’s normal vibrant complexion was pasty, drained of all energy without her warm smile.

  You can do this, Graciela said.

  You are more ready than you realize, said the woman’s voice.

  Marina took a deep breath, walked over to Rogelia’s bed, and leaned over Rogelia to kiss her forehead. “You are going to wake up and be just fine. We’re going to help.”

  Fern took a white advent candle, a long bundle of dried sage leaves, a small black cauldron, and a pack of matches from her wool bag. She struck the match and lit the candle. “We welcome the four directions to this healing ceremony.” Fern lit the smudge stick and quickly extinguished the match flame with her fingertips.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?” Marina whispered.

  “No,” Fern said as she handed the sage to Xochitl. “You smudge Rogelia while I read her aura. I can already see she has some funky yellow spots over her heart.”

  Xochitl blew out the fire burning the sage leaves and walked to the four corners of the room, then slowly passed the smoke over Rogelia, paying close attention to her chest area. When Xochitl had covered Rogelia’s body with the sage smoke three times, she smudged Fern, Marina, and lastly herself before smashing the sage stick in the cauldron.

  Fern took a Tupperware container and sprigs of rosemary out of her bag and handed them to Marina. “Here,” she said.

  Marina popped open the Tupperware and took out an egg. She held on to the egg and imagined that it was a strong sponge, ready and able to extract all the negativity and sickness from Rogelia’s body and spirit. She would be the one to wipe Rogelia clean.

  That’s the way, Graciela said.

  Keep believing in yourself, honey, said the woman’s voice. You are more powerful than you give yourself credit for.

  Marina rolled the egg all over Rogelia while Xochitl chanted quietly. Marina cracked the egg into the cauldron. She examined the yolk and white of the egg. At first the white was filled with bubbles and seemed a little cloudy. But as Xochitl continued to chant, one by one the bubbles popped and the white of the egg became clear. “I think it’s working,” Marina whispered. She swooped up the rosemary with a shaking hand.

  Take your time, the woman’s voice said.

  Fern leaned over the rosemary and whispered, “Come on, little fairies. Help us make Rogelia better.”

  I’m not ready for you to join me just yet, Nana, Graciela said.

  Marina brushed Rogelia with the rosemary. “Graciela says she wants you to get better,” Marina whispered in Rogelia’s ear.

  Xochitl took a piece of chalk out of her pocket and drew an equilateral cross on the floor beside Rogelia. She placed their journal in the east. “There’s a lot more work to do here, Nana.” She pulled Marina and Fern close to her and gave them a big hug. “Look, I’m trusting my new friends.”

  Fern smiled at Xochitl as she placed in the west a painting of a gray cloud with the word “fear” written on it. “All of us have agreed to let go of our fears, Doña Rogelia. Just like you told us to do in the beginning.”

  In the north Marina set a photograph of Xochitl, Fern, and herself with their arms around each other. “We’re a family, but we need you. Nanas are the links who make us who we are.”

  Together, Xochitl, Fern, and Marina placed an empty glass candleholder with an image of San Miguel in the south. It was the same holder that had burned with the flame of their initiation. Now it was filled with water and three different kinds of flowers: a rose, a daisy, and a sunflower. The three friends held hands.

  “This represents our energy,” they said in unison. They took deep breaths simultaneously and chanted:

  “We became stronger when we trusted each other.

  You have taught us to love the earth as our Mother.

  By the magic of three, and our deep love for you,

  Rogelia Garcia, it is time to come to.

  By our will you will rise from this bed well and whole

  And be healthy and strong in mind, body, and soul.”

  The girls held their breath, waiting. Marina looked over at Fern and Xochitl. This was it. They had given Rogelia all they had. Marina closed her eyes and sent Rogelia all the love she had. She remembered Rogelia’s lessons of courage and the power of having faith in yourself, the lunches she had made, the knitting and Spanish lessons, and her squishy hugs. She recalled Rogelia’s laughter and her firmness. She loved everything about her.

  Rogelia began to moan a little. The monitor at her side came alive. Marina’s eyes flew open. She almost screamed with delight. Fern did scream. Xochitl began crying, and Marina had to catch hold of her so she wouldn’t fall to pieces. The limpia had worked! They really were magical.

  Rogelia opened her eyes and smiled at her three apprentices. “Gracias,” she said lovingly.

  A nurse rushed in. She picked up Rogelia’s hand and checked her pulse. She looked intently into the old healer’s face and smiled. “This is wonderful. Looks like your grandmother will be better soon.” The nurse looked around confusedly. “What is all this?”

  “Magic,” Marina said. “The best there is.”

  Yes, said Graciela. It’s called love.

  On the bus ride home from the hospital, Marina smiled broadly at the fact that Rogelia was better. Really her happiness was twofold: Rogelia was on the mend, and she had bona fide proof that she had some kicking magical powers.

  I’m so very proud of you today, honey, the woman’s voice said.

  Marina�
�s smile broadened. The bus stopped at a red signal. Marina stared out the window and noticed bright balloons swaying in the wind over the El Ranchito Restaurant sign.

  I love that restaurant, the woman’s voice said. I used to take your mother there all the time.

  “What?” Marina asked.

  Haven’t you guessed it? the woman said. I am your nana.

  The past couple of months she had been listening to her nana and hadn’t even known it. “This whole time,” Marina whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  Timing is everything, darling, Nana said. I was vicariously living through your bonding with Rogelia. But I need you to do something for me now.

  “There’s so much I want to ask you,” Marina said quietly so no one would hear her. “You’re my namesake, and the family only speaks about you like you’re some flawless saint or something.”

  Well, Mexican people often speak about their dead relations like that, regardless of whether we deserve it. Listen, honey, I want you to invite your mother to lunch at El Ranchito. You ask her questions about me first. You two need to work this out together.

  “But—” Marina began to protest.

  Whatever she doesn’t answer, I will, Nana said.

  Marina pulled on the cord to stop the bus. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed her mother’s number. “Mom, can you meet me at El Ranchito? The one on First Street. It’s really important.”

  El Ranchito was packed with people. A vibrantly colored mural of a rain forest was painted over the fireplace mantel in the first room. Marina passed a buffet of chafing dishes piled with beans, rice, chorizo, eggs, and potatoes.

  Mmm, Nana said. I miss eating.

  Marina hustled past a large pot bubbling with what she suspected was menudo. Gross. There were just some things about Mexican culture she didn’t think she would ever understand.

  Marina could hear the laughter of her nana ringing in her ear. Maybe not.

  The hostess seated Marina in a large room with a rush and bamboo ceiling. Colorful talavera plates depicting cacti in various forms, shapes, and sizes; wrought iron decorations; and paintings of horses and beautiful women adorned the walls. Marina was on cloud nine. She not only had Rogelia back, but she also had her very own nana now.