As soon as I heard Abuela was going to the hospital, I clutched her hand and didn’t let go.
“I’ll come translate for you,” I said, happy to have found an excuse to see my mom.
But I wasn’t needed for translation. Abuela made do with the few words she knew in English. I’d never seen a more determined person. After tons of back and forth in English and Spanish, with some universal sign language thrown in and a lot of smiles and thank-yous in between, we navigated the labyrinth of the hospital and reached Mamá’s room.
Before I went in, I warned her. “Abuela,” I said, savoring the word. It felt too sweet on my tongue. “Mamá doesn’t look very well. It might be a shock.”
Maybe the words were more for my benefit than Abuela’s. The image of Mamá sleeping on the couch, her hand strangely warm in mine, would haunt me forever.
Abuela nodded and squeezed my hand. She wasn’t biting her lip anymore. She finally smiled. “We’ll support each other, okay?”
Mamá was awake, surprisingly. She looked up at the ceiling, counting something with her fingers.
She must have felt our eyes on her because she turned her gaze to the door. She looked back and forth between Abuela Fátima and me, like she couldn’t believe we were there. She finally covered her head with the white sheet before bursting into tears.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this!”
I didn’t know who she meant, Abuela or me. Maybe both. I swallowed my tears, but Abuela’s were running freely down her face.
In two strides Abuela was next to Mamá, holding her hand. “Mi niña! Mi bebé!” She called Mamá the same endearments she’d called me.
I knew why Mamá cried so hard now. When someone who loves you helps carry your burden, you have the luxury of letting go and being vulnerable.
Quietly, I slipped out of the room so they could cry for sorrows carried alone for a long time. I sat in the waiting room for two episodes of Judge Judy, and when I went back to the room, I found Abuela and Mamá whispering to each other.
Mamá hugged that tattered teddy bear like she was holding baby Avi. For once in my life, I wasn’t jealous that someone else was getting affection and love. If I had felt burdened with responsibility for someone’s life for only a few days, what about Mamá, who had no one else to help her out?
* * *
Before we headed back home, we stopped briefly at the grocery store. After, we picked up the girls, went home, and in a whirlwind of activity, Abuela Fátima unpacked, cleaned the kitchen, put a load in the washer, and made a tuna salad.
After we ate, Abuela took a shower. When she came out of the bathroom, she looked younger without her smeared makeup and with her reddish-brown hair sticking in all directions.
“You’re so pretty, Abuela.” I said, setting out the máte tea for her. She’d need some peace and quiet after her trip and visiting the hospital. Although we’d just sat with Mamá, seeing her in pain was emotionally exhausting. I knew I needed some kind of pick-me-up after the sadness.
Abuela smiled and beckoned me to her. She opened her purse that hung from the chair, took out a package of chocolate cookies, and offered me the whole thing.
I took only one, but she left the rest next to me. “You’re so sweet, Minnie. Is that what the girls call you? You’re a good sister. You deserve the first cookies. I didn’t have much time to gather stuff to bring, but these were your mom’s favorite ones. Your father liked them too.”
I processed this information in silence. She knew my father. How many other things did Abuela know? I couldn’t wait to ask, but now was not the time.
“I was scared you were someone else pretending to be you, and you’d come here to kidnap us or something.”
Abuela nodded. “Yes, I was scared, too. Of not making it in time. But I’m here now. Things will change.”
I chewed on the crumbly cookie. It wasn’t as sweet as I expected. It was more like dark chocolate. “Kota says sometimes that if you don’t ask for help, then no one will help you.” I swallowed and then took a sip of the maté she offered. It was sweeter than the one Mamá made. “Mamá says you have to do all you can on your own.”
Abuela nodded knowingly. Before replying, she took some knitting from her purse. It was clear where Mamá got her restless hands and feet. Like Mamá, Abuela was always doing something.
“It’s good to know how to do things on your own, but many times, you don’t have to suffer. You can rely on people, too. No one can do everything on their own. Even I had some extra help getting here.”
“How, Abuela?”
Abuela drank her máte. “A few months ago, I had a dream about you.”
“Me? But you never knew me.”
“I’d seen pictures of you. Our souls are wiser than our minds. I believe we visit our loved ones when we dream. In this dream, you were flying like a fairy. You stopped midflight and told me to get my passport. And so I did. For a while I had known your mom lived in this area. I opened the Facebook account to see if I could learn anything about her.
“The last time we talked, I said some horrible things to her. They were the truth, or what I thought was the truth. I won the argument, but I lost my daughter and my precious granddaughters. At the time, it was only you and Dakota. Your father and I never got along, and when he left your mother, she thought I would gloat. A few years later, someone told me of Avalon’s birth and said your mom was too embarrassed to reach out for help. I was hurt that she wouldn’t. Time made it harder to reach out, and now, here we are.”
We continued taking turns drinking máte.
“I had money saved up. Like a miracle, I never lacked for work. For a woman my age to be employed by a government agency, and to be indispensable? That’s something unheard of in Argentina. I learned all I could about computers, and then I did my best every day at work. I had money and vacation days saved up, and when I received your message, I didn’t hesitate. Without knowing, I’d been getting ready for a long time.”
Miracles weren’t just magic cupcakes or a shadowless boy, they were having the inspiration to do something and actually doing it.
* * *
The next days and weeks were a complete turn of the page for my sisters and me. But soon, we settled into a routine.
Abuela made me go to school every day. After Kota and I were gone, she’d go to the hospital with Avi to see Mamá.
Surprisingly, Avi didn’t throw any fits with Abuela, and when told to, she’d even give Mamá a kiss. By the time we came home from school, the apartment smelled delicious. Even better than the Sorensens’. Instead of bringing us food, now it was Maverick who stayed to eat dinner at our house, and I loved it.
But Mamá was still very sick. So sick that the doctors sent her home because they said there was nothing else they could do for her.
Abuela Fátima didn’t despair. “We’ll get a different opinion. Things will work out.”
I didn’t see how, but Abuela didn’t want to tell me anything when I asked. She and Mamá spoke until late into the night, and when I wanted to eavesdrop, Abuela sent me to sleep.
I’d obey, only to wake up with the sound of Mamá’s nightmares. She’d wake up crying like La Llorona. “Where are my nenas?” Her fear scared me silly.
Little by little, Mamá was leaving. But she didn’t want to.
No amount of wishing or begging the fairies for a miracle would fix her.
* * *
One day in November, Abuela Fátima said, “We need more than fairy dust to make her feel good.”
She was mending socks with determination, as if with each stitch she was mending our lives, too. She muttered and muttered under her breath.
“What are you saying, Abuela?”
“Sometimes I go over things that happened a long time ago in my mind, and I say the things I should have said then. Even if it’s too lat
e now.” Abuela sighed and threw a mended sock into the basket. One down, three hundred thousand to go. “I was thinking about when I made your mom go back to Argentina with me. Your grandfather had just died, and I was here in this country alone with five young children, all under eighteen. I missed my mother. How selfish, right?”
Her reasons were completely valid. Why had Mamá been so mad?
“Were you happy with your decision?”
Abuela stretched, like her soul needed strength to continue telling the tale. “My four sons went to college there, for free, but my daughter never forgave me for uprooting her.”
She took her wallet out of her pocket and showed me a stack of pictures. Four sons, all sharing one or another of Mamá’s features. A handful of kids.
“Your cousins, mi amor.” Abuela said. “All boys. Twelve boys, can you believe it? All of my kids have three kids each. I’m so glad Natalia had you girls. All her life, all she wanted was a woman of her own blood. I guess she wanted to create her own friends.”
A silence fell on the kitchen. Mamá coughed, and I felt Abuela stiffen beside me, attentive to Mamá’s every move and sound.
“She can’t go on like this much longer,” I said, stating the obvious. “The medicines are too expensive, and she can’t work anymore.”
Abuela and I had never talked about Mamá’s illness. Liver failure. She knew that I knew though, even if she tried to keep the truth away from my sisters and me.
I’d overheard conversations and read the prescriptions for the collection of orange medicine plastic containers covering Mamá’s nightstand. It wasn’t that hard to fill in the lines for the things no one told me.
If the medicines didn’t work, then Mamá would need a transplant. She was so sick.
My ears started ringing as if a storm were bellowing around me. I bit my bottom lip hard to stop the tears.
Abuela held my hand, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I understood then that she’d been waiting for me to figure it out on my own. We couldn’t stay in Utah by ourselves. Mamá needed constant care, and we didn’t have any help.
Abuela didn’t speak the language. She couldn’t work. How would we pay the rent?
“I won’t take you away from this country like I did with your mother. She said that I stole the best opportunity of her life. She’d be furious if I did the same thing to you, but sweet Minerva, I see no other way.”
Abuela didn’t press me. She didn’t even wait for an answer. She left the facts bouncing on the kitchen table. As if by magic, I saw our future stretch before us: the three of us alone, in a country that was ours but that was so, so hard to live in. In Argentina, we had a huge family. Mamá could rest. She could heal. They had great schools there. We’d be okay.
But Maverick, and the play at the end of the week, right before the Thanksgiving break. . . . With so much going on, time had gone by fast. My plan of becoming the first Latina president of the United States was now on pause for who knew how long.
I sat by the window, wishing this decision were easy. Outside, a bunch of fireflies danced around the fairy shelter. Fireflies in the fall. I’d never seen one even in the summer! I held my breath as I watched them. I felt a tiny hand on my shoulder, and when I turned, there was Avi, her eyes ablaze by the sight outside, the fairies dancing in the swirling autumn leaves.
“See, Minnie? Fairy so, so nice! She go home with us.”
* * *
A few days later, I told Abuela the news during breakfast. Her spoon clanked on her dish and her hands flew to her mouth. “Seriously, mi amor? You would do that?”
I nodded. “I love this country, but it would be super nice to have a family, a big extended family, too. If Mamá says we should go, of course we’ll go.”
Abuela came around the table and hugged me. “You’re a very mature little girl. I’m proud of you.”
After the play tonight, I was ready to go. Until it was time for college, and then the world better watch out. I still had big plans.
“Will you be at the play?” I asked Abuela for like the thousandth time. “At least for the first showing?”
I had prepared for no one from my family coming to see it. Mamá was sick, and Abuela couldn’t leave her alone. Besides, I didn’t have a part, really. After making sure Jasmine had an idea of what I meant by Amazons, I hadn’t been to a single rehearsal. Mrs. Santos let me flash the light and ring the bell that was supposed to be Tinker Bell. It wasn’t a big deal, and anyone could take that spot, but it had made me feel part of my group of friends.
Abuela clapped her hands. “We’ll be there for all three shows! We wouldn’t miss the most important play in the whole world for anything.”
I knew she was exaggerating. She would miss it for Mamá. “What about Mamá?”
Mamá surprised me with a hug from behind. I was so used to seeing her not walking around, that I never imagined she’d get up.
“We’ll be there,” she whispered in my ear.
“But how?”
“Mr. Chang said he’d give us a ride, and I have the wheelchair the hospital lent me. We’ll be fine.”
Now that Mamá was going to the play, I wished I could show her what a strong, fearsome warrior I’d become. Lily on the stage, blaring to the four winds, protecting my family against the pirates, the Lost Boys, and even the mermaids.
It was too late now.
* * *
I was at the school way early to make sure Miguel and Maverick had everything ready: the bell, the flashlight, the piece of metal that made a sound like a storm, two bottles filled at different heights to make the sound of the clock when he banged on them with a wooden stick. A fan to fly Lily’s hair around and make her look fierce.
The first two shows went smoothly.
Jasmine as Lily was breathtaking. She’d been reading about Tiger Lily (there were books about her!) and Diana from Wonder Woman and the other mythical Amazonians. Not only that, but Jasmine had found out about real-life women warriors like Pine Leaf, Running Eagle, and Rosana Chouteau. This last one, of the Osage Nation, had said, “I think my band obey me better than they would a man.”
Jasmine was ready for her role. One of her lines — Leave my people alone! — paralyzed the room.
Good thing we’d been able to change it from the stupid “How.”
After every Lily scene, I clapped so hard my hands itched later, and when I saw Jasmine, I hugged her and told her she’d been wonderful. She must not have heard the envy in my voice, but I felt it. Why had I been so silly?
Wendy was wonderful, as expected. I still thought Maverick would have made a better Peter than Blessings, but I couldn’t deny that Maverick rocked the lights and the sound effects that were too complicated for Miguel and me to improvise.
Everyone clapped and cheered when Lily yelled, “Get out of my land!”
The hairs on my arms stood like needles and a knot formed in my throat when Jasmine got the only standing ovation in the last bow.
“Maybe next year we can put out a different production. I think our school’s ready to evolve beyond Peter Pan,” Mrs. Santos said with a small smile, clapping next to me. “An original adaptation of Lily, or an Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland set in the modern world. Or even better, a gender-bending Little Prince . . . . What do you think?”
I clenched my teeth to stifle an exclamation of disappointment. I wouldn’t be here to enjoy it.
Mrs. Santos must have understood my expression. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I intend to keep your contact information handy to consult with you. Your insights into Peter Pan were genius.”
“If you do The Little Prince, cast Maverick as the Fox,” I said. “He’s the best friend a person could have.”
* * *
The next day, for the last performance, there was bad news.
“Wendy is sick,” J
asmine said as soon as she saw me walk into the auditorium.
It took me a minute to understand what she was talking about. Mamá had been sick for so long, I never considered that anyone else could be sick too. “What do you mean? It can’t be that bad,” I brushed her off.
“You don’t understand. Bailey has food poisoning. She’ll be okay, but she can’t perform tonight.”
Mrs. Santos was frantic when she met me. “I need you! You’re the only one who can save us!” she exclaimed, holding me by the shoulders.
It was too amazing to be true. Now that I was ready to leave everything behind, now that the whole student council election meant nothing because at this time tomorrow I would be on a plane to summertime, to the other side of the world, now I got this chance.
Wendy Darling.
Kota had taught me to accept blessings when they came, and this was my parting gift from whoever it was that listened to girls in need, girls who’d never even gotten a golden coin from the Tooth Fairy.
Poor Bailey Cooper, sick at home. She would have so many other opportunities, though. And I couldn’t miss this chance. I’d let Tiger Lily go. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
“Okay, Mrs. Santos,” I said. “I’m ready.”
* * *
Sometime around the middle of the play, I forgot to speak with an English accent.
I truly believed I was flying over Neverland, watching my little brothers, admiring the brave Lily. My Wendy wasn’t jealous of her at all. It was admiration all around.
I didn’t have to pretend to be enchanted by the light of Tinker Bell or her chime-like voice. She was magical, and I was so grateful for Maverick’s brilliance in remembering the right cues for the tiny fairy. With the haste of being on stage, I’d forgotten to remind him, but everything turned out perfectly.
On These Magic Shores Page 16