Rogelia's House of Magic (16 page)

Fern squeezed Xochitl’s hand. “This is great,” she whispered.

Once again, Xochitl wondered how Fern and Marina couldn’t see what she was going through. And why was there always this intense focus on magic and so little time spent just talking and getting to know each other? Maybe they really were just taking advantage of her.

“Look at the center of this bush, Fern,” Rogelia instructed. “Let your vision soften and blur.”

Fern stared at the center of the plant. She bent so close to it, her nose brushed the tip of a leaf.

“Slowly letting your eyes become blurry, back away from the plant,” Rogelia said.

“Oh my gosh!” Fern exclaimed. “I can see this fuzzy wavy line around the plant. Was that its aura?” She turned to look at Rogelia, her eyes flashing with excitement.

“Yes,” Rogelia confirmed. “Try once more. Maybe you’ll see the fairy again.”

Fern stared at the plant for a while. “I can see the eyes—they’re all purple. I mean it. The iris takes up the whole eyeball. She’s got dark sea green hair tinted with bluish purple streaks. I can see her whole face,” Fern squeaked in delight.

Xochitl looked at the
romero
plant and then back at Fern. She had to force herself to remain cynical and not get caught up in Fern’s enthusiasm.

“Ask permission to take from the plant and look for the lines that vibrate the fastest. They will point out which sprig is for you.”

Fern stared at the
romero
for a moment before she confidently reached for a sprig, which snapped off and fell into her hand. She beamed as she held it up for Xochitl and Marina to inspect. “The fairy handed this to me, I swear it.”

“Marina,” Rogelia said. “I want you to silently ask this dear little
romero
which twig she wants you to have, and the plant will answer.”

Marina closed her eyes for a second as if in prayer. Then she opened her eyes and looked directly at a branch sticking out to the right of the bush, as if she knew it would be there. “It’s this one,” she said, pointing.

“Receive it,” Rogelia said.

Marina reached out, and the sprig broke off and dropped into her palm.

“Just like magic,” Rogelia laughed. “Okay, back inside.”

Xochitl was the last to walk into the house. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, a rush of adrenaline overcame her. Deep down, there was a part of her that was excited to be learning from Nana again. She looked at the candles flickering under the altar to La Virgen de Guadalupe in the living room and felt the rising of a small belief in the miracles.

However, once Nana gave Xochitl, Marina, and Fern each a white candle when they were settled in her room, Xochitl couldn’t help thinking of Graciela and how they used to learn from Nana together. Suddenly, the rush of anticipation was gone, and all she had was the sadness brought on by the realization that the happy times with her sister would be only memories from now on.

Rogelia lit the candles. “I want each of you to concentrate on your heart’s greatest desire while you face each of the four directions.”

Come on, Great Spirit,
Xochitl pleaded silently as she turned to face each of the directions.
I’ll give you a second chance. I’ll even believe Fern and Marina truly want to be my friends if you make Graciela appear right here, right now.

“Lie down on the bed,” Rogelia said. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but you can do it.”

Rogelia took an egg off her shelf and rubbed it over Fern’s body.

Fern giggled. “It tickles. What’s the egg for?”

Rogelia then cracked the egg on the edge of a white bowl in the center of the table and dumped in the contents. “The egg absorbs all the bad energy or sickness in your body.” She turned the bowl from side to side, inspecting the bubbles and white of the broken egg. The healer repeated the process over both Xochitl and Marina. Then she took each of their rosemary sprigs and brushed the girls with the little plant.

Xochitl lay between Marina and Fern and shut her eyes. With each breath, she willed her sister to visit her.
Please, Graciela,
Xochitl begged. She pictured Graciela’s face and remembered her voice. Xochitl heard a small bump. Her heart jumped to her throat. She looked around hopefully and noticed the branch of a tree brushing against the window. She hoped it was a sign from Graciela. But when Graciela failed to appear, Xochitl felt her heart take on the heaviness of a lead weight.

Seventeen

A
fter the ceremony, Fern and Marina began their way home in a bit of a daze. Fern stepped aside for a gaggle of kids as they ran by with a long jump rope.

“That was unbelievable!” Fern shrieked. “Couldn’t you just feel the room vibrating with magic? And when Rogelia looked at you? Remind me never to lie to her.” She paused. “Not that I believe in lying.”

Marina nodded in agreement, although she was happy just being around Rogelia. She liked her sense of humor, her kindness, and her strength. She wondered if Rogelia was anything like her own nana.

“And next time we’ll hike to a waterfall,” Fern prattled. “Remember Xochitl said Rogelia can walk for a long time and we had better bring good shoes. This is just too cool.”

“Walk me to the bus stop?” Marina asked.

“Of course,” Fern said, giving Marina a questioning look. “Are you taking the bus all the way home?”

“Only to the mall, to Fashion Island. Mom is taking me and Monica shopping for Grandpy’s birthday party a week from Sunday. She went through my closet last night and decided I had nothing fit to wear.” Marina rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I’ll get new clothes.”

“She’s really making a big deal out of this one,” Fern observed.

“He’ll be sixty,” Marina said. “The family is coming in from all over. We’ll be taking over a whole room at some fancy restaurant called the White House.”

“How very
white
of your family,” Fern joked.

Marina laughed uncomfortably.

“Hey, don’t forget the Los Lobos concert is coming up,” Fern said. “I got the tickets. Xochitl said she can’t come, but we’ll have fun.”

Marina twirled her hair nervously. “I never…exactly…said I
could
go…,” she said haltingly. “I just said I’d
like
to go.”

“Come on, Marina,” Fern said. “You have to come.”

“I don’t think my mom would let me, much less the night before a family party,” Marina said.
Not to mention the grief she’d dish out about the crowd Los Lobos will attract,
she thought dryly.

“But I’ve already bought the tickets,” Fern persisted. She grabbed Marina’s hand and gave her a pleading puppy-dog stare with her amber eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t go.” Marina pulled her hand free. She had a hard time admitting even to Fern how deep her mother’s harsh judgment of Mexican people ran.

“You can sneak out,” Fern suggested.

Marina sighed heavily. Could she risk it? She had never sneaked out before. She was such a sucker for her friend’s begging that she studied the narrow sidewalks of the neighborhood in order to avoid Fern’s eyes. The cement squares were buckled by the roots of the huge, sprawling trees on either side. The city trimmed the trees on the Peraltas’ street every week to maintain their resemblance to overgrown lollipops. But here in Santa Ana, everything had more life. It reminded Marina of how much more connected and alive she felt when she spent time at Rogelia’s house.

Differences can do that,
the woman’s voice said in Marina’s head.

Marina sighed as she inhaled the smell of pinto beans cooking and the clean scent of lime soap that floated over from a bright red house.

“Come on. It will be fun. Pilar won’t tell,” Fern insisted.

“Why don’t you just ask Tristán to go with you?” Marina said playfully.

Fern frowned and put her hands on her hips. “I wanted it to be a girls’ night, but you and Xochitl aren’t getting with the program,
comprendes
?”

“Okay, okay,” Marina relented as they reached the bus stop. “The last thing I want is for you to be all mad at me.”

“Hooray! We’ll have a blast.” Fern brought Marina in for a quick bear hug. Marina leaned on the bus stop bench for support. “You’re a regular bus rider now,” Fern teased. “Maybe once you get your license, they’ll let you drive the bus.”

“Whatever,” Marina replied.

“Why didn’t you ask Pilar for a ride? Or have your mom pick you up?” Fern asked.

“I kind of like the excitement of public transportation,” Marina joked. The real reason she didn’t ask Fern’s sister for a ride was because Pilar might let it slip and tell her mother that Marina had been in the old neighborhood. And no one in Fern’s family knew about Mrs. Peralta’s low opinion of Santa Ana. Naturally, Marina tried to keep all that to herself. “Besides, you know what a pain Friday traffic can be,” she added to make sure Fern didn’t catch on.

No está bien,
the girl’s voice said.

You’re not being very honest with Fern,
the woman’s voice said.

Marina batted hair off her ear, as if she could shake off the voices.

“It was pretty cool for Xochitl to let us into her inner sanctum,” Fern said abruptly.

“Why do you say that?” Marina asked.

Fern watched the rolling clouds for a moment before answering. “Well, I don’t think it can be very easy for her to have us learning from her nana. Xochitl is pretty guarded,” Fern said.

“Did you see another aura?” Marina asked, fascinated.

“No. It’s just a feeling I have. Rogelia works for your family, too. That’s got to be awkward,” Fern said as she swung around the bus stop pole.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Marina objected.

Fern shrugged as the bus came to a stop in front of them.

“See ya,” Marina said in an annoyed tone as she stepped onto the bus and expertly slid her dollar bill into the receptacle.

Fern had definitely touched a nerve. Marina hadn’t thought about how their training with Rogelia might raise complications for Xochitl. But now that the subject was brought up, Marina wondered if Xochitl thought they were horning in on one of the only relatives Xochitl had living with her.

Marina’s cell phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She looked at the phone and winced before opening it. Just to be on the safe side, she held the phone several inches from her ear.

“You said you would be at Anthropologie at six. It’s 6:03!” Marina’s mother exclaimed.

Marina gazed through the large windshield of the bus. They were a few lights away from her stop. “Um, I got caught up at the music store.” Marina quickly muffled the mouthpiece as the automatic recorder announced the major intersection they were crossing.

“What was that?” Marina’s mother asked.

“They announced the need for another checker at the checkout,” Marina lied. “I’ll be right there, Mom.”

Marina snapped the phone shut and stood up, ready to spring off the bus at her stop.

The woman’s voice said.
One of these days, you’ll need to find the courage to speak your truth.

Claro que sí.
The girl’s voice seemed to be affirming what the woman said.

Even though the voices were right, Marina couldn’t help feeling a little indignation. Shouldn’t voices in your head be helpful and supportive?

We are being supportive, my dear,
insisted the woman.
We are trying to encourage the power within you that, so far, you have failed to recognize.

Marina shook her head at the voices’ confidence in her as she jumped off the bus and ran through Fashion Island’s massive parking lot. They had no idea what she was up against. She slowed to a brisk walk as she neared the first group of kids loitering around the directory sign. Marina ran up the escalators and didn’t even bother turning around to catch one of her favorite views of the ocean and Newport Beach. She raced past the Venetian carousel, a ton of high-end stores like BCBG Max Azria, an art gallery or two, and hip shops like Juicy Couture. She pulled open the gigantic wooden doors of Anthropologie and slipped inside. She found her mother shaking her head at the dresses on display.

Standing beside their mother, Monica looked at Marina’s disheveled hair and mouthed,
Where were you?

Xochitl’s,
Marina mimed.

Monica’s hazel eyes widened in amazement as she quickly raked her fingers through the front of Marina’s hair and patted down the flyaway strands on top, then nodded her approval.

“Hey, Mom,” Marina said merrily.

Marina’s mother turned. “There you are.” She flicked her finger at the dress she had been scrutinizing. “None of these will do. These dresses are too strange. We should have gone to one of the department stores.”

“So we can buy cookie-cutter outfits,” Monica mumbled.

Marina giggled. Her mother glared menacingly at Monica. Marina sobered up and stepped in front of her sister as if to guard her. “Mom, we like these clothes.”

See? You have power when you want it,
the woman’s voice said. Marina smiled inwardly at the encouragement.

“They aren’t nice enough for Grandpy’s party,” Marina’s mother complained.

“We’ll find something,” Marina said reassuringly.

Within fifteen minutes, Marina and Monica had selected a few dresses and skirts and were headed to the fitting rooms. Marina’s mother beelined for the handicapped room.

“Mom, that room is for handicapped people,” Marina protested.

“People with special needs,” Monica interjected.

Marina’s mother looked around arrogantly. “Well, I don’t see anyone with special needs but us. We need the space.”

Marina and Monica exchanged looks as if to say,
Sometimes there is no stopping her.

Mrs. Peralta settled comfortably on a cushioned bench in the large fitting room. Marina closed the door and turned her back to her mother when she took off her shirt. Her mother watched her in the mirror.

“You need another bra,” Marina’s mother said brusquely. “That one is too small.”

Marina whipped the shirt back over her head. She wanted to tell her mom off, but she couldn’t think of a response in time to stop another devastating remark.

“Didn’t we just buy you a bra?” her mother continued. “I didn’t grow that fast. Maybe you’ve put on a few pounds. How much do you weigh?”

“Mom!” Monica and Marina objected together.

“I was only asking.” Marina’s mother balked, hands in the air as if she were innocently shielding off a brutal attack from her daughters.

“You know, Mom,” Monica began carefully, “why don’t you wait for us outside?”

Mrs. Peralta patted the cushion. “There’s a bench in here. I’m tired.”

Marina grabbed a dress and Monica’s arm and yanked her sister out of the fitting room. Once they were safely secluded in another dressing room, Marina whispered, “
She’s
the one with special needs.”

Monica stifled a laugh. “Come on, hurry up before she hunts us down.”

Marina tried on a white dress with a pink ribbon sash. It wasn’t exactly her style, but she figured her mom would like it and they could get out of here sooner. Marina looked at herself in the mirror before walking out. What was her style, anyway?

You have yet to find it, my dear,
said the woman’s voice.

Sí,
the girl responded in agreement.

Marina sighed.
Fern and even the voices are right. I always buy whatever is in fashion. I don’t have a color scheme, except for whatever appears the most in my magazines.
If the clothing was expensive, displayed on a mannequin, or with a popular label, she bought it. But that didn’t mean she always liked it or felt comfortable wearing it. How many times had she gone into her jam-packed closet and still not been able to find anything she wanted to wear?

Marina opened the door to the handicapped room to model for her mother. Marina’s mother lounged on the bench as if she were kicking back poolside at some fancy resort. All she needed was one cabana boy to feed her peeled grapes and another one to fan her with a palm frond.

Marina’s mother sat up. “You look lumpy,” she said.

“How can you say something so mean? You’re my mother,” Marina asked in a small and confused voice.

Keep calm,
the woman’s voice said.

Marina felt Monica walk up behind her. The extra support reminded Marina of how strong she felt around Rogelia, who would never say anything like that to her.

“I thought you would want me to be honest,” Marina’s mother said frostily.

Hable tu verdad,
the girl’s voice said.

Yes, just speak your truth,
the woman said.

“There is a difference between honesty and cruelty,” Marina stated.

Marina’s mother gathered her purse and stood up. “Marina, I’m sorry, but I just don’t know how to love you.”

“What?” Marina asked.

“Not the way you want me to.” Marina’s mother pushed past Marina and stormed out of the fitting room.

A store clerk walked up at that opportune moment. Red-faced, she looked from Marina to the retreating form of her mother. “Um, do you need any other sizes?”

“No.” Marina sniffed. “I think we’re done here.”

After the unfortunate shopping excursion, Marina waited in anticipation all weekend for Rogelia to come back to their house. She woke early Monday morning and listened to the birds chirping outside. Finally, she heard Rogelia opening the front door. Marina whipped off her bedcover.

Esperate,
came the girl’s voice.

Yes, wait until she gets her work done,
said the woman.