Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer by Jamie Figueroa

Author:Jamie Figueroa
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948226899
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2020-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

Five

“Why do you have to act like this?” Rufina says to the angel.

The angel looks past Rufina. Her wings twitch. “Like what?”

“Like a fucking kidnapper.”

There are knots in the angel’s hair; her headband is missing beads. The white leather beneath exposed. She looks at her watch:

1:49 pm

Sat. 5.30

“You’ve grown out of Baby.”

“I have not,” Rufina says. Rufina is on the verge of kicking her one good, strong leg. As if she were a child again, the one who had been told that the baby who’d been growing inside her wasn’t alive anymore, and that there would be nothing for her to keep, nothing for her to hold on to. And that the Explorer had gone and would never return. “Baby belongs to me. Baby will always belong to me.”

When Rufina pushed, she forced another life into the world. There was the cord to cut. Baby not making a sound, Baby not breathing. Even though Baby’s life returned to where it had come from, her hip had come undone and would never return to its proper placement. As she grew, the distance in her hip grew as well, forever a loose doorknob refusing to hold itself in place. Inside her, the wasted space for what was once there, promising life.

“You’re not a mother,” the angel says, slipping her long fingers into the band of her left sock, and then her right. “Baby didn’t make it. You didn’t birth life.” She removes a half-smoked cherry Colt. “But you made it. You’re still among the living.”

Rufina struggles to push from her mind Baby between her legs, caught and wrapped by the Grandmothers to All. There was no crying out. No trembling in the light of the room and the cold air. She prefers it her own way. Baby placed on her chest. Baby feeding. Baby breathing.

“Speaking of mothers. What did you do with her? Did you hide her, too?”

As if on cue, there are mothers everywhere on the plaza. They walk in small packs with their children in various shapes and sizes. Their voices seem to fill the space with song, not unlike morning birds praising the sun.

Baby alive. Baby dead. Baby alive.

Mother alive. Mother dead. Mother alive.

Death was not a permanent condition when it came to those Rufina loved. Despite their hearts stopping, they still surrounded her, engaged her. And then there was Rafa.

“I’m not the only one who pretends,” Rufina says. “You’re nothing like a woman.” It’s meant to be a surprise attack, but it’s obvious and lacks the ability to puncture.

“Fair enough,” the angel says, adjusting her crotch, unbothered. She touches her breasts. They’re almost there.

Notice Rufina does not say, “I’ve had enough of you.” Does not say, “You’re a curse.” Does not say, “What are you waiting for?” To say any of this would mean she’d be ignoring the angel’s devotion to her for the past fourteen years. Her presence constant.

“Haven’t you learned anything by having your prayers answered?” the angel says, hiccupping. Hiccupping happens only when the angel might cry.

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