Aliens, page 8
Roseanna wanted them to have as normal a childhood as possible. The money sent to her after Jenette’s death was meant for them alone, and she would do everything she could to make sure it lasted. Each week, with pocket money in hand, Ramón and Leticia waited for the van that sold pickles, salt limon, and always saladitos—shriveled salted plums so sour it puckered their lips until they burst into laughter at the faces they made.
There were the usual birthday parties with a piñata and playdough. Summers meant raspa and colorful tongues. They ate them fast before the ice could soften the white paper cone to mush. Roseanna taught them both to cook, preparing them to take care of themselves when they were older, but without any expectation that either of them would like it. Determined to raise them equally, she refused to treat Leticia like a doll, remembering the pressure that had been placed on Jenette.
Leticia adored the open space with chickens, a small pond, and more than enough trees to climb. Ramón, on the other hand, hogged all the Lego to create detailed, extravagant buildings and worlds where his mother and father had trained to go. La Llorona herself would have been scared at the screams that came from his little body if anyone dared destroy something that took him weeks to create.
There were the unsuccessful attempts to get them to play together, which would have made her life easier, but Ramón wanted Leticia to play his way. Frustrated, Leticia stomped on his creations with one foot while tossing other parts across the room. Fights would ensue, then they both would run to Roseanna for her attention and affection, demanding that she declare one of them right. The only fair solution was to send them both to their bunk beds until they could get along.
After the appropriate amount of time Roseanna would peek in.
“Look, we are all we have,” she would say. “This is our little gang, and no one can break it up. If you give each other a hug, I’ll make popcorn and we will watch a movie together.”
Begrudgingly, they would agree. Leticia and Ramón hated sharing a room even when they were in a period of truce. Ramón claimed the space for his own by cluttering it with his things. There were his science experiments, posters, stacks and stacks of books on every subject. He knew how to manipulate and did his best to get what he wanted, especially from his sister.
Leticia retreated to the small bunk with her own belongings. Sometimes in the middle of the night she would climb into Roseanna’s bed.
Finally one morning, Roseanna took Leticia aside.
“Stand up to him. Say no. What is yours is yours. Don’t let him talk you into giving him the remote for the TV, or your pocket money, or the last bite of dessert. You deserve as much as him. Do you understand?”
Leticia nodded in understanding, and to Roseanna’s delight she did as had been suggested. It didn’t take long for Ramón to get the message, and before long a status quo was reached.
The same couldn’t be said for Ramón’s relationships at school. The students there didn’t appreciate Roseanna’s nephew for the brilliant child he was, and he was treated as an outcast of sorts. He announced at a young age that to have what he wanted, he would need to build his own worlds.
And be rich.
* * *
When the twins were twelve years old Roseanna built another bedroom and small bathroom with a shower for Leticia. She would need her privacy soon to have the freedom to blossom into the young woman she was born to be.
* * *
It was autumn again, and just before their seventeenth birthdays. The leaves on the property created a carpet of fire that offered a deconstructed reflection of the trees.
As above, so below.
Roseanna always kept an altar in the house to represent their deceased family members, including Jenette. There was a photo of their brother Sandro and his wife Blanca. They were gone, having died closer to God in space, but their eight-year-old son Cutter survived and was still up there somewhere.
From the beginning Roseanna made it a point to bring Leticia and Ramón into her Dia de Los Muertos ritual to honor the family, especially their mother. She taught them that physical death didn’t have to be the end, unless it was what they wanted it to be. Through cloning, science had imposed itself upon the spiritual interpretations.
* * *
During the ritual there were white pillar candles and tea lights, fresh marigolds, roses, and a small red-robed figurine of Santa Muerte holding a cornucopia of gold coins. A small skull of obsidian rested next to a photo of Jenette alongside decorated sugar skulls. And finally a bowl of fresh strawberries because Jenette joked she was afraid she would forget what they would taste like traveling in space. Leticia, Ramón, and Roseanna stood before the altar, and Leticia’s tears were hot as candle wax as she quivered inside like the crackling flames of the tea lights.
Dark shadows danced across the photos of her mother with the viciousness of dark beasts, she thought. The beasts invaded Leticia’s mind, stripping her of everything but sorrow. Every year since she was fifteen years old, she had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, and every year she couldn’t help it. Ever since Roseanna had told her the whole truth about her parents, Leticia’s birthday and Dia de Los Muertos had left her emotionally drained.
Roseanna had been honest, telling Leticia and her brother that lying wasn’t the solution to easing the pain that came from loss. She didn’t want any secrets between them, since they were all they had.
“It’s okay to cry, mija,” Roseanna said quietly. “The veil is thin. We feel everything, and we should. Let it pass through you and teach you something about yourself—it’s the best thing we can do. I get the chills all day every year on this day,” she continued. “They are close, I promise. When I first got the news about your mother, the two of you were the saving grace in my sobriety. She lived on with you.”
Roseanna placed her arms around Leticia and Ramón.
“I appreciate your kind words of wisdom, tía, but there is nothing out there,” Ramón said, ever stoic.
“Callete, Ramón!” Leticia barked, her eyes puffy. “You’re so cold.”
“No, it’s okay.” Roseanna patted her shoulder. “You’re entitled to your beliefs, Ramón. All I can tell you is when I was battling alcohol, I was barely alive. It took dying to my old life and self for me to live again. Your mother wasn’t perfect, but she lived without fear. She cut off all her hair to become the person she wanted to be, and not what she was told was right or acceptable. You both may feel you are dying inside sometimes, and that is okay. You need to grieve, and will go through personal struggles, but know that you have your lives to be lived.”
Ramón broke away. “Whatever. She lived a textbook, stereotypical life that got her killed. A gang member? Prison? That is not for me. I have work to do.” He moved toward the door. Leticia opened her mouth and moved to stop him. Roseanna gently squeezed her arm.
“Mija, let him go,” she said. “We all have to work through things in our own way.”
“He puts so much pressure on himself to succeed,” Leticia protested, “like some sort of Atlas.”
“That’s because we are judged by the stories that came before us. He doesn’t just carry his own desire for success, he also doesn’t want to be written off before he has accomplished anything. Those are the limitations that are set for us, before we are even born. When that happens, we grow with them, believing them.”
“Fuck that.”
“That is exactly what he is trying to do,” Roseanna said, “but it’s eating him at the same time. Ouroboros, eating his own tail.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Anyway, it’s almost your birthday. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” Leticia wiped her eyes. The longing faded, as it always did. “Just hang out with my friends. I’m getting old for a party.”
“I guess no tres leches cake, either?” Roseanna quipped.
“No!” Leticia cried. “I didn’t say that. Maybe we do cake, and a movie in the evening?”
Roseanna kissed her on the forehead. “You got it. Now go do your homework, too.”
* * *
The Pleasanton Mall was quiet, with half the shops shut down. Most things were in short supply depending on which countries were fighting with each other, disrupting the supply chain. This made it difficult to keep stores filled with stock.
Leticia roamed aimlessly with Erika, Joslene, and Nadia. They were their own little clique, sharing secrets over sodas in the quad at lunch and sending text messages to each other in class without getting caught. Here they were dressed casually, in jeans and T-shirts, though Leticia wore some charcoal mascara.
“What are we doing, birthday girl?” Nadia asked as she took a short video clip of Leticia on her phone.
“Nothing crazy,” Leticia responded, trying not to look into the camera. “Let’s just get food and check out the sales. I could slaughter some sticky chili tofu and noodles. And put that away! My birthday isn’t a big deal.”
Nadia put the phone away. “It’s a shame that hot brother of yours won’t be joining us.”
“Eww!” Leticia scrunched her nose. “I do not want to hear that. He’s my brother, and I have to smell his farts and burps.”
Nadia laughed with Joslene. “¡Cochina! So many girls like him, but he really doesn’t care. Does he have a boyfriend?”
“To be honest, I don’t know or care. He can be with whomever he wants—it’s his business. The only female he hangs out with regularly is the mom of a kid he tutors. He never talks about boys or girls.”
“Well give him my number!” Nadia said, and she giggled.
Leticia rolled her eyes, then stopped in front of a small boutique called Magnolia. In the window were secondhand and new designer clothes, cosmetics, and accessories.
“Damn, that’s cute.” She spotted a brown suede leather jacket with tassels hanging from the chest and extending to the back. That would look good with the turquoise and silver teardrop earrings Roseanna gave me this morning. The card with her gift also said from Ramón, too, but she knew better.
“C’mon, it’s your birthday.” Joslene tugged on her hand to drag her into the shop. The others were behind, so there was no use resisting. “We’re all pitching in to get you a gift.” Leticia gave in without any real protest.
The shop floor was half full, but the girls still browsed as if they had free run of the place, bantering without the care of disturbing anyone. It was a birthday after all. The only shop assistant, a girl in a straight bob and dyed cherry red hair, not much older than Leticia, gave them a long stare as they entered. Her sour face made Leticia feel uneasy, and spoiled some of the fun.
Trying to ignore her, they moved on, but she followed them. Leticia had grown used to Ramón and his hovering, with endless questions about her progress in school. It felt like that as they opened and closed different samples of lip gloss and pulled out the price tags of various items of clothing before tucking them back. In the back of her mind, anger began to burn.
With another slit-eyed glare, the shop assistant let Leticia know she didn’t like them, and wanted them out.
An ember became a flame.
“You can’t just try every lipstick,” she said in a snarky tone.
This moment had been stalking Leticia in the shadows of her mind. It was a bubble of teen angst, sorrow, and resentment that would burst and scald whatever was closest. There was still a rawness from Dia de Los Muertos.
“We can do whatever we want.” She stepped closer to the girl. “It’s a free country. At least that’s what I’m learning in school.”
The shop assistant gave her a sarcastic smile and squinted. “Fucking we—” she began under her breath.
“Don’t you dare say it, pendeja.” Leticia reared her head and narrowed her black-lined eyes. “The Rio fucking Grande dried up to a trickle. It doesn’t exist anymore. Watch the news, or read a book.”
“Whatever,” the girl responded, refusing to meet her eyes now. “I saw you put something in your pocket. I’m going to call security.”
Leticia squared up with her.
“I didn’t take anything.”
The pain of the moment reached deeper than the words. Flashes of memory blinded her. Images of her mother burst in her mind with the explosiveness of a grenade. Leticia lunged and grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair, giving it a hard yank. Her ears were plugged with vitriol that made her oblivious to her friends shouting at her to stop.
She would be the one in trouble.
Another hard pull and a large clump of hair was left balled inside her palm. The assistant screeched in pain and fear, ran to the counter, and slapped a button next to the till.
Leticia’s fist held her rage and sadness in a tight orb of cold space where her parents’ souls now resided. She ran for the assistant again, and her friends attempted to pull her off, but she continued to pummel the girl’s face that bled from the nose. Leticia screamed obscenities as tears left charcoal mascara streaks down her cheeks.
Two security guards rushed in, each grabbing an arm and pulling her back.
“Don’t tell me who I am, bitch,” Leticia shouted, sobbing. “Don’t you fucking dare. All of you. Fuck you all!”
One of the guards pulled her to the side.
“Show us your pockets, miss.”
Leticia didn’t move, and looked at her friends who all wore fear on their faces. That brought her back to the moment, and she did it for them. They shouldn’t get into trouble because of her. She complied and turned up her pockets, with nothing to be found. The other guard opened her small handbag, proving that there were no stolen goods.
“She still assaulted me,” the assistant said, holding the crown of her head. “I want to press charges.” Nodding, the security guard grabbed Leticia’s upper arm again.
“Let’s go,” he said. “You can call your parents after the police arrive.”
“I’m going.” She snatched her arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
Joslene ran behind her. “We saw it all. We heard what she said. I’ll stick up for you. Just tell us what to do.”
The guard turned to Joslene, causing her to stop.
“Step away, unless you want us to take you, too.”
“Go, Joslene. I’ll be alright.”
Behind her, Leticia heard Nadia knock over a stand with a box of bras. She glanced over her shoulder as her friend flipped the assistant the middle finger.
“I’ll be talking to the manager about this, bitch. You just wait.”
Walking through the mall with guards on either side of her, Leticia felt ashamed—not for sticking up for herself, but for what Roseanna would think. Her tía did her best for them, and now this. Roseanna didn’t deserve the heartbreak or worry.
By the time they reached the mall entrance a police officer was waiting. Her pulse quickened. She didn’t want to get in the police car, but what choice did she have.
9
Roseanna stood in the station entrance when they brought Leticia out from a three-hour wait in a holding cell. They made eye contact, but she remained silent while they walked out the front door into the night. The radio was on in the car, and Roseanna turned it off, then turned to her niece.
“I spoke to your friends,” she said calmly. “They told me what happened, and I believe them. I also believe you wouldn’t lash out unless you were feeling something… big. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Tears streamed from Leticia’s eyes.
“I don’t think I know myself,” she said. “Just feel lost. Ramón has it all figured out. Most of my friends have some idea. I know there’s something for me, but what? Where?” She paused to wipe her eyes. “I get good grades. Never had any trouble with the teachers—but for what? Where does it lead? Dorothy at least had a yellow brick road. Alice had a bunch of animals to guide her.”
The tears came again, and she composed herself.
“Does Ramón know? It’s just going to make him act like even more of a jerk.”
“He doesn’t know,” Roseanna said. “Your friends agreed to not speak about it at school, either. If you don’t want me to tell him, I won’t. To be honest it’s none of his business. How you were treated was unacceptable, but so was the extent of your reaction. But I know, you swallow that bullshit long enough, and all you want to do is La Exorcist that pea green shit back into their faces. I understand. When I was in nursing school and applying for jobs, I got it all.”
Leticia stared down, feeling undeserving of Roseanna’s understanding. Even that made her fall deeper into a chasm of grief. Roseanna placed a hand on her knee.
“We’re going home, and I suggest you take some time alone to think about it. I’m not grounding you or punishing you. I think how you feel is enough. You know this behavior is unacceptable.”
They spent the rest of the journey in silence. Leticia’s mind and body were numb. She leaned against the headrest, watched the world pass by, and had an overwhelming desire to sleep. Where the hell in this world did she belong?
When the car came to a stop, Leticia threw open the door and rushed to her room to avoid making any contact with her brother. She flopped face-first onto her bed.
* * *
Two hours later a knock on the door roused Leticia from her self-pity and tears. To her relief, Roseanna was on the other side.
“You okay?”
She couldn’t avoid her forever, and to tell the truth she wanted a little comforting. She knew it had been wrong to lash out violently, but something inside of her was begging to be expressed. She opened the door. Roseanna had two mugs of steaming manzanilla tea in her hands.
“Not really,” she said. “I’m sorry and embarrassed. I don’t want to be a burden. It just made me so angry, the way that girl treated me.” The sweet aroma of the tea mixed with a little honey made Leticia feel slightly better.
“Thank you for the apology,” Roseanna said, “but never say that you’re a burden.” She sat on the edge of the bed and handed a mug to Leticia before pulling a folded piece of paper from the front pocket of her brown flannel shirt. “I was supposed to give this to you when you were eighteen, but I think the time is now. You said in the car that Dorothy and Alice had guidance to find their way. So do you. It’s already there… inside.
