LA MORENITA, Chapter 3

When Araceli turned four, her brother, Chad, was born. While Norm had never paid much attention to his daughter before, his former behavior seemed downright solicitous compared to the way he acted after Chad’s birth. To make matters worse, he kept insisting that Maria focus all her attention on their newborn male child with the light skin, sandy brown hair, and blue eyes, which made Araceli feel totally invisible.
When she was five, Araceli decided to wander away from the house. She walked down George Washington Way to the corner, then turned on Van Giesen and walked to the end of the street, where a foot and bicycle path ran alongside the Columbia River. When she stepped onto the path, a gaggle of joggers waddled past her, almost knocking her over in the process. She got off the path and went down to the river’s edge, where she sat and istened to the soft lapping of the water against the grassy bank.
After a while, a butterfly flew by and danced in the air next to her ear. “Araceli,” it said. Since she heard no speech, Araceli thought that she had made this up in her own mind. The butterfly flew off in an arc then flittered back again. “I come to greet you,” it said. Its words pulsed through the air, as if propelled by the butterfly’s beating wings. The butterfly flew off again then made a third pass, its colors furling and unfurling like a vibrant orange and black pennant. “You are not imagining this,” it said. “I am on my summer journey, resting up for my long flight back to Mexico for el Día De Los Muertos.”
“Why are you talking to me?” Araceli asked.
“Because you are the only person I can talk to,” it answered. “Many people appreciate me. Some of them leave me alone. Others chase me and try to capture me. But none of them talk to me. Even if they tried, I wouldn’t be able to understand them. But we can talk together, you and I. I hope you come down to the river every day until the warm weather passes.”
“What happens after the warm weather passes?” she asked.
“You’ll go off to school, and I’ll fly to Mexico with the other butterflies.”
“I don’t think I should come down here by myself.”
“Bring your mother then. Even if she can’t enjoy our talks, I’m sure she will enjoy the beautiful colors on my wings.”
“I think she will be mad at me,” Araceli said. “I didn’t tell her where I was going.”
“Go back and tell her then.”
Araceli went back into the grey shingle house on George Washington Way. She entered through the back door. “Mommy, I’m back,” she called.
Maria was finishing laundry while the baby slept. She hadn’t noticed that Araceli had gone anywhere. “Oh? Where did you go?”
“Outside.”
“In the yard?”
Araceli didn’t answer.
“It’s just as well, m’ija. I’ve been so busy. But now I’ve folded all the laundry, and I think we can spend some time together. Why don’t you sit with me and we can look at some old photos from Texas? I can show you the house where I was born and what it looked like before the hurricane.”
“Can we do something else?”
“Like what?”
“Can we go down to the river and talk to the butterflies?”
Maria smiled. “Talk to butterflies?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll have to take Chad.”
“I don’t think the butterflies will mind.”
Maria laughed. “Okay, m’ija, if that’s what you want.”
Maria wrapped Chad in a light blanket and put him in a stroller. She smirked as she pushed the stroller and Araceli walked beside her. “What do you and the butterflies talk about?” she asked.
“Me, you, Mexico. Other butterflies.”
They came to a bench alongside the river and sat down. Before long, more than a hundred butterflies swooped down and crowded around them. Maria stared in disbelief. “I have never seen so many butterflies in one place,” she declared. “Were these all here before?”
“No,” Araceli said. “Just that one.” She pointed.
For a while, the butterflies hovered in front of Araceli’s face. Then Araceli turned to her mother.
“I didn’t hear any words,” Maria said.
“They said for you to tell me how you and Daddy met.”
“What?”
“How you and Daddy fell in love.”
“The butterflies said that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, m’ija, I don’t know if I should tell you. It’s all kind of grown up and complicated.”
Araceli looked up at the fluttering cluster. She turned back to her mother. “They say it’s okay. But if you don’t want to, they can.”
“The butterflies are going to tell you about me and your father?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can they say it loud enough for me to hear?”
“No, but I can tell you what they tell me, if you want.”
Maria laughed. “Absolutely, m’ija. I want to hear this.”
Araceli stared up at the butterflies. One came forward and glided in the air next to her. After a few minutes, it retreated. Araceli turned to her mother. “You met each other at a cantina.”
“I don’t remember telling you that.”
“You didn’t.”
Another butterfly came forward. Its wings glistened in the bright sunlight as it flitted and darted before Araceli’s eyes. After a while, it moved back. “He says that, on your first date, Daddy took you to see a movie, but he wanted to see a different kind of movie.”
Maria was flabbergasted. “How did you know that?”
“The butterflies.”
Another butterfly came forward, frolicked in the air, and then returned to its former position. Araceli turned to Maria. “The butterfly says that, after Daddy asked you to marry him, he asked for your parents’ blessing. But his own parents didn’t give any blessing because they didn’t want him to marry you.”
Maria grabbed her daughter by the arms. “Listen, m’ija, the only way you could know that is by spying on your father and me. I don’t want you to do that any more. Do you hear me?”
“Mommy! I didn’t! The butterflies told me!”
“Right. And if I believed you, we’d both be down at the mental health center on Gribble, checking into one of those rubber rooms.”
“But Mommy!”
“That’s all,” Maria announced. “I’ve heard enough. Let’s go.”
“Mommy, please!”
“No, Araceli. Even if the butterflies did tell you this, it would be evil.”
Immediately, the butterflies reconfigured themselves into the shape of a shimmering rood.
Maria gasped and made the Sign of the Cross.
A few butterflies flew from the bottom of the cross over to the stroller to peek at the baby. Chad snatched one up in his hand, and Araceli heard it call for help. She ran over and pried it from his fingers. Chad’s face got red. His cheeks puffed out. Then his mouth opened wide, releasing an angry wail as the butterfly flew away.
“I’m sorry my brother did this,” she told the other butterflies.
“We know,” they said. They flew away, too.
Two days later, Araceli announced she was going outside. Maria told her to go ahead, thinking she meant the back yard. Araceli walked down to the corner, then followed Van Giesen to the river.
“Tell me more about my mother and my father,” she told the butterflies.
A butterfly came forward. “I used to work with your mother,” she said. “There, at the cantina, we all thought Maria was the most beautiful girl in San Antonio, not just by her looks, but by the way she treated people.”
Araceli understood that it was not the butterfly talking, but spirit of the dead person the butterfly carried.
Another butterfly came forward. “I used to live next door to your mother and your grandparents. I was killed in the same hurricane that killed them. Your abuelita thought your mother was muy especial. The reason your grandmother believed your mother should marry your father, even though he was a gringo, was because she read it in the Tarot cards. And, to her, anything she saw in the cards was destiny.”
“What did my grandfather think?”
“Your abuelito believed in your abuelita’s vision. Whenever she told him what she thought the cards said, he thought it was a message from Dios.”
“But I don’t think my father likes Mexican things. I know he doesn’t like Mexican food. Why did he marry my mother?”
A third butterfly came forward. “I used to work on construction with your father. The first time your father saw your mother, he fell in love with her. He called her his Aztec tigress and swore that one day he would tame her.”
“They barely touch each other now. If they’re so in love, why do they act like that?”
One butterfly advanced and fidgeted in the air angrily. “Why do you ask such things?” she said.
“I want to know,” Araceli said.
“Mira, muchacha,” the butterfly said. “There are some things even we can’t tell you. If you want to know those things, ask your mother.”
“But—! But—!”
The butterfly flew off, and the others followed, in a long, glistening ribbon that rose to a point where it vanished in the sky.
Later that day, Araceli asked Maria why she and Norm don’t touch each other more, which made Maria angry. “Why do you ask me such a question?” she said. “If you want to know that stuff, why don’t you ask your precious butterflies?”