“This is ridiculous. And it’s dangerous,” she added, nodding. “I won’t permit it.”
“But you said—”
“I don’t care what I said. I never believed you would go through with such an idea. It’s absolutely the wrong time for you to do such a thing. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Edward,” she said, as if my only problem was disappointing my cousin.
“No, I must go,” I said, a little more firmly than I had intended.
“What do you mean, you must? Why must you go?”
“I need to visit my grandmother’s and my parents’ graves.”
“Why? It is not the Día de los Muertos. That was last November.”
“I don’t wait for the Day of the Dead to pay my respects,” I said. “I need to thank them for all the good things that have happened for me and will happen.”
“Oh, please. Thank them. What did they do to bring any of this about? You must lose these foolish, ignorant superstitions. You’re about to become a modern woman, an American woman with prestige. You can’t go babbling about evil eyes and blessings from the beyond. And I want you to stay away from these ignorant Mexicans who hold on to these ideas,” she added. She fluffed her dress and pouted. “Now you’ve gone and upset me, and we were having such a wonderful day and evening.”
“I am sorry,” I said.
She grunted but said nothing more until we arrived at the hacienda and entered.
“I’ll speak with Edward tomorrow first thing,” she told me. “Just do your schoolwork and prepare for the wonderful weekend.”
Before I could respond, she turned and marched off. I carried the boxes containing my gown and shoes up to my room. Sophia had her door shut. I could hear the music. I was sure she was on the phone with one of her girlfriends plotting and planning their own festivities for the weekend. I was so conflicted I didn’t know if I could ever get to sleep. I had already had Ignacio’s mother and father send him the letter that told him of my trip. I would have the specific details for them to get to him this weekend. What if Tía Isabela was able to get Edward to change his mind about going?
And what about all these things she described? Could I deny that they sounded wonderful? I felt as if I had been tied to two donkeys that wanted to go in opposite directions. The beautiful new gown hung in my closet. My memories of the day on Adan’s boat were still vivid. Poor Ignacio’s face was fading. Was it dreadful to wish that mi tía Isabela would make the decision for me? What was happening to the Delia who had struggled and suffered to cross the desert with Ignacio? Where was the Delia who worked happily beside her grandmother preparing tortillas and singing old songs? Had my parents’ tragic deaths and my grandmother’s passing taken that Delia’s soul along with them? When I looked into my mirror in my beautiful new home, did I see only the shell of the girl I had been, and were mi tía Isabela and everyone else I now knew filling me with a new identity?
Maybe in so many small ways that we don’t even realize and rarely understand, we confront our own Day of the Dead. We visit our own graves and finally see that the memory of who we were and where we had been was dwindling like some distant star that had died light-years before and was now only the empty illuminated echo of itself. If you could reach out to touch it, your fingers would pass through to nothing, and you would be left concluding that it was gone. Rather than be alone, you would turn to another star.
And you would be happy and sad at the same time, just as I was this night when I lowered my head to the pillow and fought back the darkness like one terrified of her own dreams. The weight of night was too great to resist, however, and I was soon overwhelmed with sleep.
Tía Isabela said nothing about my Mexican trip in the morning. Apparently, she had forgotten about it for the moment. She was too involved thinking about her own preparations
for the weekend, her nail and hair appointments. Someone was coming to the hacienda to do her makeup professionally. She explained that television and other media people would be at the fund-raiser, so she had to be “up to snuff.”
When she spoke about it, I watched Sophia to see her reactions. It was as if she didn’t hear her. She ate or did whatever she was doing and never asked a question or made a comment.
Before Friday, however, Tía Isabela had called Edward about our Mexican trip. They apparently had an argument on the phone, and then Edward called me and told me to disregard whatever his mother had said. He and Jesse were coming down on Saturday, and that was that.
Adan was busy on Friday with his work, and then he was going to some campaign events with his father. He wanted to see me and asked if I wanted to go along as well, but I told him I was tired and would rather rest for the bigger night on Saturday. He said he understood and admitted he probably wouldn’t have had that much time for me anyway, and I might have been uncomfortable.
Neither Sophia nor I knew where Tía Isabela was Friday night. She left no instructions. Sophia went out with her girlfriends, and I had dinner alone, watched some television, and tried to distract myself from thinking about the tension now between Edward and Tía Isabela.
It wasn’t until Saturday morning at breakfast that she brought it up.
“Your cousin and his companion are coming here today. I want you to tell them in no uncertain terms that you will not go to Mexico. Is that clear?” she asked me at the table moments after she entered. Sophia strutted in, half-asleep as usual, but she perked up at the tone in her mother’s voice.
I didn’t respond.
“You’ll ruin everything by doing something that stupid,” Tía Isabela continued.
“I told Adan about my trip already,” I said, keeping my gaze on the plate. “He wasn’t upset.”
“Of course, he wasn’t upset with you on the phone, but he thinks you’re doing it for your cousin, and he wouldn’t want to get into any argument with you about it. He’s too much of a gentleman.”
“Oh, please, spare us,” Sophia said. “Adan Bovio is too much of a gentleman?”
“Don’t you dare contradict me, Sophia.”