Secrets of the Casa Rosada by Alex Temblador

Author:Alex Temblador
Format: epub
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 2018-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Siete

ABOUT A WEEK after I had found Jorge Valdez, I returned home from school to find my grandmother waiting for me on the porch, her short, chunky arms crossed over a pale, pink sleeveless top and her lips pursed in anger.

I almost stopped when I saw her. What was she upset about now?

“Buenas tardes, Abuela.”

“You’ve been going behind my back? Keeping secrets in my house?”

I stopped. The sun beat down on my head and I fought the need to look down or anywhere from her squinting eyes.

Keep your cool. “What are you talking about?” I walked up the steps to escape into the shadow of the house.

She walked to me as I opened the screen door. I had to escape her, keep the guilt from showing on my face.

“Threats to my granddaughter? ¿Mi nieta? And you threatening back?”

Marcela. Thank God. I walked to the kitchen to grab some cold water from the pitcher in the fridge.

“Abuela, it was nothing really . . . ” She cut me off.

“¿Nada? ¡¿Nada?! That little girl causing trouble for my granddaughter! I won’t allow it.”

Hearing Abuela speak with so much passion and protection for me made me smile. My mother had never done that.

“Stop that smiling. Turn around.”

God, how did she do that? I turned around, trying to wipe the smile from my face with little success.

She got closer and pointed her finger up at me. “Nunca, never, never threaten someone with your gifts. Do you hear me? I won’t be having a brujita in my family. Curanderismo is good. Evil intentions, even evil thoughts, won’t be tolerated. And stay away from that girl. Don’t speak to her, and tell me if she bothers you again. ¿Me entiendes? Do you understand?”

I nodded. It was best not to say a word. She snatched away the pitcher of water and the cup I had in my hand and ushered me into her curandera room for two hours of reflexión.

I still had Carlita to rely on for answers about my mother, since Jorge had refused to help me. At least I hoped I did. The only problem was that I had a list of Carlitas, some with numbers and some without. I didn’t even want to think about the fact that she might be listed under a married name.

Each Sunday, I snuck into a family member’s room to use their telephone. Sometimes I got in two calls, sometimes only one, before I had to sneak back out into the family area so Abuela and Gloria wouldn’t discover that I was missing. It took six Sundays to make it all the way through the numbers without any luck. It appeared that my only chance of finding the Carlita I searched for would be to go to the addresses listed without numbers, which sucked. How was I actually going to go to the houses without my grandmother knowing? I got lucky that one time with Jorge. When would the next unexpected emergency appear and help me?

Despite the fact that it looked hopeless, I had to stay positive.

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