Woman of Light (53)

“It’s a good present.” He was drifting now, his world going black.

The front door opened then and Luz pushed Avel farther into the darkness of the juniper. She heard two voices, laughing and carrying on. Walking bodies passed in front of the lanterns, causing shadows to shift over Luz’s face. It was David and his date, snickering and holding hands, strolling to his Chevy. I thought there was going to be some music, the woman said. David’s engine soon started and the headlights beamed on, passing over Luz as she comforted Avel alone in the dark.





TWENTY-THREE




A New Vision





The morning of her eighteenth birthday, Luz awoke to the sounds of Maria Josie in their small kitchen fixing breakfast, a clanging spoon, an opened and closed cabinet, a screeching kettle. Luz wrapped herself in her thin cotton robe and entered the kitchen with sockless feet. The floorboards were cool, and the room was blisteringly white with morning. Maria Josie stood at the sink, her shoulder blades jutting up and down as she worked an avocado’s brown seed from its green bed. The vibrancy of the green startled Luz as she took a seat at the table. Maria Josie presented her with a plate of fried potatoes, flour tortillas, pinto beans, and thick, sugary bacon. She set the avocado down separately, cut into half-moon strips. Luz’s mouth filled with saliva at the sight.

“Happy birthday, Little Light. I love you very much,” Maria Josie said, embracing her niece warmly.

She took the seat across from Luz and motioned with both hands for her to Go on, eat. Luz felt her face crease in an enormous smile. She hadn’t seen food like this in their home for years. She began to eat, using a tortilla to scoop up beans, heavy with lard, topped with an avocado slice.

“It’s delicious, Auntie,” said Luz between bites. “Thank you so much.”

Maria Josie patted Luz on the left forearm. She smiled with her eyes. “Today is a significant day for you. You’re further from childhood than you’ve ever been, and I’m proud of the woman you have become.” At that, Maria Josie reached to the floor and pulled up a small package wrapped in white paper. “For you, jita.”

Luz opened the package carefully, sliding her index finger beneath the seams, and pulled the wrapping away from the small wooden box. Inside, she was surprised to see the quartz rosary. Maria Josie’s face beamed with pride as she told Luz to pull it out and hold it in her hands. Cool, weighty nodules of prayer. Luz squealed as she draped it around her wrist.

“I thought Milli had stolen it?” Luz asked, thinking back to when Diego first left and they had cycled through a string of renters. Looking at her wrist, Luz was stunned at the sight. The rosary shined pink and silver, with beads carved into flowers. And for just a moment, Luz smelled roses.

“I got it back,” said Maria Josie. “A pawnshop had it on Broadway. It belonged to your grandma.”

“Simodecea,” said Luz, knowingly.

Maria Josie nodded in a sorrowful way. “You remind me of her. She was very independent, very strong. I know I don’t speak of her much. Did your mama?”

“Almost never.”

“Sometimes we go through things in life that are so hard and ugly, we’d rather forget than remember, but now I can’t remember very much at all. I regret that now.”

Luz didn’t know why, but she began to cry. Maria Josie pulled her close. “Don’t do that,” she said. “She would be happy for you to have it.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” Luz wiped her face with her hands. “I want to wear it as a bracelet. I know I’m not supposed to. Do you think that’d be all right?”

Maria Josie smiled. “Wear it any way you want. Let everyone in Denver see it.”



* * *



—

In her bedroom, before readying herself for work, Luz took in her birthday. She lay across her bed clutching her grandmother’s rosary and considering Diego’s envelope with dirty fingerprints and frayed edges. The stamp, an illustration of bundled lavender, had faded, as if bleached by the sun.

Little Light,



I’ve seen the ocean. It’s like nothing you’d believe. It goes forever and the waves collapse on each other all filled with fish and shells. The smell is like some salty stew and the sounds are roars. Oh, it’s something. There’s more work here, but the Anglos are unhappy, think there isn’t enough to go around. You got to be careful. There are raids. Police come and ship men to Mexico, some who’ve never been. I’ve got my wits about me, though, and I’ve got lots of time to think. We ride trucks and trains, go from town to town, and work until night. I miss you and Maria Josie. Happy early birthday, Little Light. p.s. I got a new snake. Her name is Sirena.



D



Luz missed Diego more every day, and sometimes she wondered if she’d ever see him again. She pictured a red thread, tied from her wrist to his waist, yanking her in his direction, allowing her to never lose sight of his broad back. She read the letter several more times, kicking her feet against her bed’s frame with a dull rhythm. But the sounds of her feet were interrupted by the distant echoes of a barking dog, as if its growl were trapped inside her bedroom, inside her throat. Songbirds came next, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of swaying grass. The air smelled fresh, alive, flooded with rich soil. Luz closed her eyes and saw in her mind a sunset sky above a great green basin divided into long leafy rows. Farmworkers in wide brim hats hunched down, exposed their backs to the sky, hobbled forward as if they were their own kind of human crops, bending in motion, as if moving through green waters with wooden oars. Like a bird flying from treetop to fence post, Luz searched the rows until she came upon Diego, his face marked in dirt, his skin beautifully darker from the sun. He wore a red kerchief around over his nose and mouth, his eyes black and purposeful as they searched the earth. A basket of lettuce, harvested and pulled from the soil, fanned out from behind him like a peacock’s dazzling feathers. A cowbell rang then. Diego raised his face to the sky. Another day done. As the other workers positioned their baskets heavy with greenery to their left side and staggered toward the water truck, Diego held his gaze, inhaling the heavens, as if giving himself just a moment of rest. From his front pocket, Luz saw the vibrant, yellow slit eyes of a girl snake. She poked herself up and nuzzled against Diego’s kerchief-covered neck.