“Check this out!” Francisco exclaimed, and pulled me by the hand toward the laundry room.
He pointed at the window, which was open just wide enough to let in the wind—and let out a small cat. A layer of dust coated every surface, and I noticed a set of paw prints along the floor leading to the window.
“She’s gone …” Mateo said, and then he shrugged. “But she always comes back. You know she does.”
My brothers left me alone in the laundry room and headed to the kitchen to get their merienda, the afternoon snack. I stood by the window for a second, looking out.
Estrellita had been my friend ever since I’d found her stuck in the tree that still spread its branches over the yard. She was playful like a kitten even though Papi thought she was about six or seven years old by then.
The day before, my best friend from kindergarten, Ludmila, had moved to Spain. I was devastated. No one had told me she was leaving until we went to the airport to say goodbye to her family. I never saw or heard about her again. That night I cried myself to sleep, and Lela had suggested I wish upon the Southern Cross constellation for another good friend. And bam, there was my cat, who followed me around like a shadow, my constant friend and companion, always getting into some kind of adventure.
I placed my hand on the window, debating whether or not to close it in case Estrellita returned. I ended up closing it. She always went around to the front door anyway, but not until she was ready to come home.
“Lela?” I said, coming back to the kitchen, where my brothers were already eating toast and watching cartoons.
“Yes, mi amor?” Lela was getting the mate ready.
Mate—that would be MAH-teh—is an herbal tea and a staple in our house, like in many places in South America. She filled the mate gourd with herbs and a pinch of sugar, and placed the filtered straw inside it. The water heated up in the red electric kettle on the counter.
“Estrellita’s not in the house and the laundry window was open.”
Lela clicked her tongue. “She snuck out again.”
“Why does she keep going out? It might snow …”
Maybe she heard in my voice how close I was to crying because she turned around, gathered me in her arms, and kissed the top of my head. “Ay, chiquita … Estrellita hasn’t been feeling well … Sometimes when a cat leaves the house, it’s because they’re ready to go to heaven.”
“No, Lela! Don’t say that!”
But deep in my heart, I wondered if I hadn’t knocked my knuckles hard enough against wood. Like Violeta had said, my life was perfect. Until something shifted. I felt change coming my way like the dreadful heaviness before a storm, when nature seems to hold its breath. And when it blew again, how far would it carry me? I hoped my roots were deep enough to keep me grounded.
* * *
After a merienda of hot chocolate and toast, I helped my brothers with their homework. Their little lives were so simple. One plus one. Connect the dots. Draw a picture of your family. To them, everything was exciting.
Mine seemed so complicated. I was equal parts worried about my cat, excited for my parents to come back with their news, and dreading their arrival.
The evening turned into night. Dinner came and went, but there was no sign of my cat—or my parents. My brothers were already in bed when my phone chirped, and I jumped with surprise.
“Who is it?” Lela asked, sounding as anxious as I felt.
I checked the screen. “Only Violeta.”
News yet?
Nothing.
I’m going to bed, but I’ll have my phone. Let me know as soon as your parents are home.
Violeta and I had no secrets. We hadn’t talked a lot about our potential move, but she knew everything I knew.
I headed outside to check for Estrellita again. It hardly ever snowed in the valley, but now drops of snowy rain prickled my skin. I tried not to think of the dark highway, slick from the weather, but I couldn’t help it. I wished for my Estrellita to be back so she could snuggle with me. But the only sounds were the raindrops on the carport tin roof and the creaking tree limbs dancing in the storm.
I went back inside and got in bed, but sleep escaped me.
Lela sat next to me on the bed that had once been my mom’s. She brushed her hand over my head and sang “Ninna Nanna,” an old, old lullaby her grandma had brought from Italy as a young girl, except that now Lela sang the lyrics in Spanish.
I joined her softly.
When the last note’s echo died down, she said, “You have the voice of an angel, María Emilia.”
“I got it from you, Lela.”
She kissed my forehead. My chest glowed with so much love for her, and I closed my eyes to savor the moment. Finally, I was able to doze off.
The sound of the key turning in the front door awoke me with a jolt.
I couldn’t see the wall clock in the darkness, so I followed the soft murmur of voices to the kitchen.
When I locked eyes with Mami, her face broke into the biggest smile.
“It was a yes!” she said. “We got the green light to move to the United States!”
From behind her, I saw Papi’s tired eyes. In his arms, he held a sleepy Estrellita.
While I prepared the mate, Mami and Lela chatted excitedly in the kitchen. The sweet scent of herbs—yerba, spearmint, and burrito—tickled my nose. Next to me, Papi made sandwiches with leftover milanesas from dinner and handed one to Mami. Estrellita finished eating the cheese I’d left in her bowl and curled up to rest right where she was.
I wished I could sleep too, but my mom’s news had rattled me. Thoughts of change fluttered in my head like a swarm of chatty finches.
“Let’s put Estrellita and you in bed,” Papi said, always observant.
“I’m not tir—” I started saying, when a yawn interrupted me.
Papi smiled and carefully carried Estrellita to the laundry room to place her in the basket that once upon a time had been my brothers’ bassinet. She pried her eyes open, fighting sleep, and when she saw me next to her, she blinked. My heart bloomed with an overwhelming love for my cat.
Blinking is how cats say I love you.
Papi brushed her head, and Estrellita curled up like a crescent under his touch. She was tan all over, except for her face and ears and paws, which deepened into rich brown points. We’d always suspected she had some Siamese cat genes in her.
“She was waiting outside, but I think you couldn’t hear her because of the wind,” Papi said.
“Why would she run out?” What was there out in the world that called to her when she was so loved in our family?
“Sometimes when they’re old, they do strange things,” Papi said. “Like running out in the night even though a storm is coming.”
“Lela said that too.”
“Estrellita thinks she’s a puma,” he said.
I smiled at the image of my old cat prowling around the neighborhood, thinking she was a fierce big cat.
Papi draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. I nuzzled against him. The familiar scent of his leather jacket still held the chill of the storm outside. He’d grown up in an estancia in San Lorenzo, close to Rosario, almost twelve hours away from Mendoza. He knew about animals, and even though he wasn’t a vet, the neighbors always came over with questions when their pets were sick or hurt.
Papi had met Mami at the University of Rosario. When they graduated, they’d moved to Mendoza, where Mami’s family was established for generations and generations. He’d learned to love the sierras and the mountains, and the dryness of the air.
All these years later, his voice still carried the soft sounds of las pampas in the way he pronounced the y’s and ll’s, and clipped the s’s out of the ends of his words.
“Are you ready to go to sleep?” he asked.
I shook my head. This was one of those life-changing moments, and I couldn’t miss it.
“Come, then,” he said, holding my hand.
Mami and Le
la were waiting for us in the kitchen.
“We brought some facturas from Buenos Aires, mi amor,” Mami said, and patted the seat beside her. “Look, tortitas negras from Manuelita.”
My mouth watered at the sight of the sweet biscuits sprinkled with blackened sugar. Manuelita was my favorite bakery even though I’d never actually been there. Besides being an expert in animals, Papi liked to bake and cook, and was a chef by profession. But his tortitas just didn’t turn out the same. He said it was the water. When either one of my parents went to Rosario or Buenos Aires, to visit family or to present at a conference, they brought tortitas negras back.
When I bit into one, sweetness flooded my senses and comforted me. Mami continued talking with Lela, telling her about the interview at the embassy.
“Our papers were in order, signed, and stamped.”
“And triple-stamped,” Papi said. “Especially Mimilia’s birth certificate.”
“What a nightmare!” Lela exclaimed, and shivered.
The odyssey of my birth certificate still gave us chills. Because I’d been born in the United States and I had an American passport, I needed an immigrant Argentine ID to register for high school. My new identification card looked identical to my family’s and friends’ cards except that in the citizenship space it said American, meaning, the United States. It also had EXTRANJERA in red block letters on the right-hand corner: Foreigner. Outsider.
To get that document, my birth certificate needed an official seal from the United States. One of my parents’ friends who lived in Miami got it for me. But the certificate kept getting lost in the mail. Until one of Papi’s colleagues came to hike Aconcagua last year and brought it in person.
“After reviewing the papers, the lady said to come back in a couple of hours.” Mami passed el mate back to Lela, who poured more hot water in and passed it to Papi.
Papi chuckled. “I asked her for a clue of what the decision would be, so we could prepare ourselves for the disappointment, you know?”
I held my breath even though I knew the outcome.
“She winked at me, and said, ‘Felicidades, Profesora,’ in the most perfect Rosarinian accent.” Mami patted Papi’s arm. “And when we went back, all the passports had the visa.”
“Except for Mimilia’s, our little Yankee,” Papi said, and I smacked his arm playfully.
They were all happy, but I had so many questions. Especially after Mami said, “With our flight only a week away, there’s so much to do. The next few days will be a whirlwind—”
“Next week?” It felt like the chair had vanished from underneath me. One week?
Mami winced. “I need to report for class on September third, right after their Labor Day. There is so much to do, like sign you kids up for school and get all the paperwork ready. There’s so many new forms waiting to be filled!”
Papi said softly, “We knew it would be soon, Mimilia, if everything worked out.”
I had been so wrapped up in yes or no that I’d forgotten to focus on when. Of course it would be soon. But one week? I didn’t say anything. Papi stroked my hair. “I’m sure you have so many questions, but you still have school tomorrow,” he said. “It’s time for bed now.”
School! What was going to happen to my graduation now?
“But, Papi,” I said. “This is the worst timing ever.”
Mami was talking with Lela, but when she heard me and looked in my direction, her joy-filled eyes turned sad.
She had been waiting for this opportunity all her life.
The fight left me like a puff of wind.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Good night.”
“Good night. Dream with the angels,” the three of them said with a combination of sadness and love that made my eyes prickle.
Before I started crying, I quickly kissed them and went to bed.
Estrellita joined me immediately. I snuggled next to her, thoughts blaring in my mind.
How was I going to tell Violeta that I wasn’t going to be around to help her pass her English exams? Ever since we were little, we planned for our trip to Córdoba at the end of seventh grade, a tradition before high school. I would just have to miss it?
How would I tell the rest of my class that I wasn’t going to sing the solo? That I wasn’t going to be at our graduation at all?
And the part I really hadn’t let myself think about: I knew Lela wasn’t planning to come with us.
How could I leave the best parts of my life behind?
It was true my ID said I was una extranjera, a foreigner. But this was my home.
The winds of change blew harder and harder, and I tried to hold on to my life as it was. But it already felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
The next day on the ride to school, Violeta held my hand. Telling her that we’d be moving in one week had left me breathless.
Tía was on the phone with one of her clients as she drove with her Bluetooth headset on. I’d hoped she’d help me figure out my feelings like she helped so many as a therapist, but by the sound of it, the conversation wouldn’t be over any time soon.
The pressure in my chest that had started yesterday was heavier today. I couldn’t breathe deep enough.
“Are you okay?” Violeta said when she finally looked in my direction and saw me rubbing my chest.
I inhaled but the knot lodged there wouldn’t budge. I sent her a weak smile.
All morning over text Violeta had insisted I tell my parents I wasn’t moving with them. But when she saw me, she must have understood that in this situation, I had no vote. And I needed her. “I don’t understand why this had to happen right now. I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how important graduation and the solo are to you.”
“They are. It’s just that there are other things that are more important. Like my mom finally having a job again.” I was only repeating the words my mom had said to me this morning.
“Maybe you can stay with Lela,” she said. “Or with us. Right, Mamá?”
Tía nodded, but then, as if she’d realized what she was doing, she shook her head, still on her call.
“I’m going to miss you so much!” Violeta said, her face turning a shade of the color she’d been named after.
By then, we’d arrived at school.
“Have a good afternoon, girls,” Tía called from the car. And then looking at me added, “Mimilia, remember you’re about to go on the greatest adventure of your life.”
I knew she was right, and I was excited. But secretly, I was also scared. What kind of adventures had life prepared for me?
All afternoon, I sat in class looking attentive, but my mind raced as I thought of all the loose ends I needed to tie up before I left. Things were happening too fast. The whirlwind Mami had anticipated was knocking me around without control.
“Are you not feeling well, María Emilia?” Señorita Nancy, my social studies teacher, asked when the recess bell rang. “You’re always humming while you work, and today I’ve missed your melodies. Is everything all right?”
What I needed was a remote control that could pause time. I needed to process what was happening to me. In the movies, the heroes jump at the chance of an adventure. But here I was, dreading the changes coming my way. But how to say that to Señorita Nancy? I made an effort to smile at her, but my chin quivered embarrassingly.
“Oh no. Don’t cry,” she said softly, kneeling next to my desk. All around us, the class was heading out to recess, and every girl’s eye was on me. Violeta was nowhere to be seen. “Did anything happen at home?”
“María Emilia?” Mami’s voice called from the classroom door. One way or another, Mami was always there when I needed her.
Violeta had said I could stay with Lela or Tía Yoana and her, but the truth was, I’d never survive apart from my brothers and parents.
My family was my life. And Estrellita was part of my family.
How could I leave her behind—but how could we take her—now that she was so old?
/> Mami walked in my direction, looking worried. I had to fix this. I cleared my throat and said, “Señorita Nancy, it’s just that we’re moving, and I’m sad about my cat, Estrellita. I don’t want to leave her behind.”
“And can’t you bring her along?” the teacher asked my mom.
Mami frowned. “We were planning on it, but she’s so frail, the long flight won’t be the best for her. Papi already asked the vet,” she said, looking at me.
I sobered up at the news. If my dad had asked the official vet, then there was no argument.
“Oh,” I managed to say, while my mom explained to the teacher about our big move across the hemisphere.
“What an opportunity!” Señorita Nancy exclaimed. “Besides, in the United States, you can get another pet, right?”
Why did adults think the furry members of a family were less important than the human ones? For a long time, other than Violeta, Estrellita had been my only friend. Now that she was old and sick, would she think I was abandoning her? I couldn’t stand the thought of her waiting for me at the window.
“I know this didn’t come at a convenient time,” Mami said to me in a soft voice.
“I understand, Mami,” I said, taking her hand.
If it was so easy for my head to get it, why was my heart giving me such a hard time?
“I’m sorry, María Emilia,” Mami continued. “I don’t want to check you out early, but I have to stop by your brothers’ school too. There’s so much to do …”
Her face reflected the storm raging inside me. This situation couldn’t have been easy on my parents either. They were trying their best for the whole family. How could I make things more complicated? They needed me. How could I be so selfish and ungrateful to complain about a life anyone might want?
I decided right then that I would not complain again.
I ran my fingers under my eyes.
“It’s okay, Mami,” I said. “At least we’re together.”
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