Summer of the Mariposas

We splashed around in that cold, clear water like river nymphs, born to swim and bathe till the end of days. It was a magical time, full of dreaminess and charm, a time to watch the mariposas emerge out of their cocoons, gather their courage, and take flight while we floated faceup in the water. And that’s exactly what we were doing the morning the body of a dead man drifted into our swimming haven.

“Don’t you see? There’s a reason we found him instead of the border patrol. He came looking for us because he knew we could help him. It’s not a coincidence that he’s from the same place as Papá.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You’re not making any sense.”

Juanita continued passionately. “Don’t you get it? We were meant to find him, so we could go see our abuelita in Mexico again. It was fate that brought him to us.”

“You were chosen for the goodness in your heart,” she explained. […] “Your sister was right when she said finding the body of the drowned man was not an accident.”

She took my hand once again, her touch still deathly cold. Standing beside the hackberry shrubs with hundreds of empty desiccated cocoons still clinging to their branches and a carpet of butterfly corpses under her feet, La Llorona did not look anything like a malevolent specter. She looked more like a tired, heavily burdened woman.

“This is about all of you: your sisters, your parents, even your abuela,” La Llorona continued. “You must travel to the other side, into the land of your ancestors, to find each other again.”

“Who would’ve thought this guy had abandoned his family?” she asked, joining our conversation. “He looked so happy in the picture. I thought for sure they’d be waiting for him.”

“Nothing’s ever the way it seems, is it? I mean look at Papá,” Juanita whispered at no one in particular. She sounded distant, sad.

“What Cecilia has beset upon you is just the beginning. You must save the ear pendant’s remaining gifts. Use them sensibly, for there is so much more to life than nightmares and demons in the dark. In order to go home, to be truly happy again, you must face the worst enemy of all, the monster that lives among you.”

It felt weird, preparing for what might happen to us in the night. I felt like we were in a different world, a magical realm, where everything was larger than life. Did I think we could really kill the mythical chupacabras? Normally, I would have said not on your life, especially since we weren’t even sure if he was a vampire. […] Besides, there was something about being in those ruins in the Mexican countryside that made anything possible, because that night I believed in us—cinco hermanitas, five little sisters, together forever. No matter what.

“Odilia is right. We’re the Garza girls, cinco hermanitas, five little sisters under the protection of the goddess,” she said, holding the stake in front of her with both hands and anchoring the sharp point of it on the ground.

“That’s right,” I said. I looked down at Pita, who was clutching her ankle, wincing. “Remember what I told you? La Llorona said we must remain noble and kind. We should grant mercy when it is asked of us.”

“You mean he doesn’t love us anymore?” Pita asked.

“Would you? If you had us for daughters?” Delia asked Pita, looking at her sisters resentfully.

That’s when I realized the evil of what the lechuzas said about us. We had been bad, yes, but was what Papá did our fault? “Yes, I would still love us,” I said, angry with myself for not realizing the twins had been blaming themselves for Papá’s absence all this time. “The way I see it, we didn’t fail Papá, he failed us. He’s the adult here.”

“Sometimes, men leave, for whatever reason,” Abuelita continued. “Nothing you did or could have done differently would have changed that. So I want you to stop blaming yourselves or your Mamá for the choices your father has made. Instead, I want you to continue taking care of each other the way you’ve been doing so far. I’m so proud of you for standing up for your hermanitas against those evil creatures. I’m sure having to do that has taught you how important it is to stick together and love one another more than anything else in the world.”

“Your father is like the sun, splendid to behold, but he must descend and let darkness rule for a time.”

I don’t get it,” Pita said.

The virgen stepped down from her throne and touched Pita’s face. “Without night there would be no rest, no room for growth. It is just the way things are,” Tonantzin explained in a serene voice.

[…]

“I know you don’t understand what is happening with your family,” Tonantzin said gently. “But you will, when the time comes. A new dawn is approaching, but you are very clever, very brave. You will not be blinded by his light.”

Then, just as reluctantly as the last leaf of autumn falls off a desiccated branch, Juanita’s hand slackened and fell away from mine. She walked away from me, leaving me alone with my anger and resentment. Papá’s arrival had done what Cecilia and her Evil Trinity could not accomplish. His empty promises broke the code of the cinco hermanitas. We were five little sisters, together no more—cinco hermanitas torn completely apart.

“We’re not tortas you can take out of the oven and set aside to cool off while you dillydally with a whole other life. Families are supposed to be important, and that’s one thing you never did: Make us important. And now you want to take away the only real parent we’ve ever had? Well, it’s not going to happen. We’re not going to let you get rid of Mamá.”