The Moon Within Page 7
My comadre, Chuyina, had a similar but different experience.
Her family in Mexico never understood
her ways, that she would leave being a man
to be herself, a woman.
Her father threw her out of the house.
So she had to come pa’l Norte
where she thought no one would judge her
but sometimes they still do.
That’s so sad, Yeya. You wouldn’t know
she’s been through so much
because she’s always smiling.
Si, well, whenever Chuyina feels like it’s too much
she comes to me for a limpia.
All I do is take this
Palo Santo and light it
and I fan the smoke onto her body
so that it floats away her worries.
It makes her feel lighter
every time she is hurt.
Here. I want you to
take some to offer Marco.
She puts two thick
sweet-smelling sticks
in my hand and wraps
my fingers around them
and blows into my fist.
She looks at me with pride
her two
long gray braids
sway like this hammock
behind her back
as she walks away.
If Yeya knew what
was hurting Marco
right now
she’d give
me
a limpia.
With each passing day
my locket feels weighted.
It still has no echo.
Finally, back in bomba class
I listen for his drumming
but he refuses to play when I come up.
Each time, he has a bathroom emergency
and lets the other drummers fill in for him
and when Ms. Susana forces him to drum
and I dance, he switches from lead drum
to sticks or maracas.
I no longer want to dance.
He no longer wants to drum.
A silent drum is the sound
my heart makes when it is hurting.
My locket is no use.
His silence crushes me from the inside out.
My locket rebels, I want my echo back!
I’m not sure if I want
Iván more
anymore.
I take to staring at the moon
each night
when I can find her.
A big glowing circle in the sky
beautiful
alone
sometimes a tiny sliver
sometimes strong
filled with pockmarks
imperfect like me.
I imagine I cling to stars
to get there and sit and ask,
Luna, what do I do?
How do I make an
echo without Marco?
She only answers with
her own loneliness and then
she fades.
If she is so powerful
she pulls tides
why can’t she pull some
sense into me
and make me apologize?
I fear I’ve gone too far.
Hurt too much.
Luna is there despite
how I have treated Marco.
She is a true friend
unlike me
always there
even when she
is hidden to me
and I am hidden too.
Oakland’s summer days come down on us
like sheets of gold so warm
we don’t need blankets at night.
The only chill I feel is from Marco’s freeze.
Still, he hasn’t told on me.
Mima, Papi, Juju, Teresa, and Luis don’t say a thing.
The only one to notice is Ms. Susana
who has given up on trying to pair
her two best students.
She doesn’t believe in forcing art
and asks me to sing instead.
Aurora’s all about it and snickers
when Marco ignores me
so proud that she had a hand in the silence
but maybe more happy that now she gets
to be lead dancer.
I wish her boca would shrivel up
like a chicharrón or that I could
punch her in the chest so hard
it would kick-start her cold heart.
I stop myself because
it wouldn’t bring Marco back.
Ms. Susana announces that
we have to come to a three-hour
dress rehearsal on Friday
for La Peña’s summer performance.
She raises her voice
over our chatter,
Everyone must wear white pants and a white top.
Girls, please wear your bomba skirts over your pants.
I will have to wear my turquoise skirt
even though I’m not dancing.
At dress rehearsal
while Ms. Susana is caught up
in the office dealing with the show’s program
all of the kids play a game of silent freeze tag
so Ms. Susana doesn’t yell at us
for being too loud when
she comes back.
Marco doesn’t play.
He sits at the drum and waits
for Ms. Susana to return.
But I do.
We are swift white shadows
running and freezing, waiting and tagging
our feet sliding on the slick wood studio floors.
I’m not it and I feel like I have to pee
but I hold it.
I want to get through this round.
I dash away, huffing.
Suddenly, I feel Marco
tug me off to the side
then drag me backstage.
Still panting from running
my breath escapes between words.
Now, Marco?
You wanna talk now?
Celi, your white pants, there is blood all over them.
He points.
Pity and concern
painted across his face.
I look down in shock.
What?
The inside of
my pant legs
and crotch
are soaked
bright
red.
I am bleeding but it doesn’t hurt.
If this is my power, why is it such a mess?
Am I a woman now?
I want to play freeze tag.
I want unstained pants.
I’m not ready.
I burst like
a swollen fruit
and cry.
Marco moves quickly.
Here, go into the bathroom stall.
I’ve got some coins … I’ll get you a pad.
Marco, can you also go get my backpack, please?
I can change into my street clothes.
Hand me your pants and I’ll soak them in the sink.
I worry that Ms. Susana will probably
be mad at me for not wearing white pants anymore.
Please don’t tell Ms. Susana that it came
and that I’ve made a mess of myself.
Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.
Celi, our moms told us this would happen.
I know but why now? It’s just so embarrassing.
You don’t have to tell me about embarrassing.
Imagine what it’s going to be like for me to buy pads at the store.
Besides, I don’t think anyone saw it but me.
Thank you, Marco, I whimper.
I want to apologize but my soggy tears
clog my voice and it sounds muddy.
I’m so sorry, Marco.
Don’t cry, Celi. It’ll all work out.
His words wash over me as
if all is forgiven
even though his forgiveness
is something I haven’t earned.
Soon though
I will have to tell him the truth
about all I’ve done—the movies, the texting, the park.
How could I have ever turned my back on him?
There is no more hiding
when Mima sees that I’m
not wearing white pants
like the rest of the kids in class.
I can’t hide the big wad
of paper towels wrapped
around my soiled white
pants I carry in my hands.
I’ll need them washed
for tomorrow.
Mostly, she sees the currents
of disbelief, fear, and newness
moving across the river of my
reddened face
my defeated face
my uncertain face.
Mima hugs me tightly and kisses me.
Her tenderness and love forces
my locket’s clasp wide open
and I don’t cry anymore.
The moon is yours now too, mija.
When we get home, Mima runs a hot bath for me.
She gathers fresh herbs from her summer garden
manzanilla, ruda, flores de romero, albahaca
and from her herbal medicine pantry
dried calendula, tila, lavender flowers, and arnica
puts them all in a cheesecloth pouch
in what looks like a giant tea bag
to steep in my bath.
I can hear her hum softly as I slide into the water.
These herbs will usher in the calm, she almost sings.
She celebrates while my world falls away.
This blood. My lies.
Two hummingbirds danced around me
outside just now as I picked these herbs for you.
It means the hummingbird spirits blessed them
and the beginning of your journey
that we will soon announce at your moon ceremony.
I had forgotten the ceremony!
Stop, Mima! I shout in desperation.
Why does everyone have to know?
Celi! Don’t you raise your voice at me!
Take a deep breath. Let the herbs soothe you.
An angry defiance continues to rise within me,
No, Mima! Don’t you know anything about me?
Don’t you know that I’d rather crawl into a cave
than have a stupid moon ceremony!
Celi, your moon will not be like mine.
You will not begin womanhood in doubt
in shame
but surrounded by the strength
of women in your community.
That is our way.
No it isn’t. It is a way you’ve made up!
It is a way that we have to reclaim
so that we are not erased.
No!
It WILL happen whether you like it or not!
Mima leaves me to cry
sitting in a soup
of hummingbird herbs and rage.
Mima walks back into the bathroom
holding a cup of tea, a pair of
clean underwear, and an assortment of
organic cotton pads and tampons.
I’ve cried so much my lungs
gasp uncontrollably for dashes of air
like extended hiccups.
I climb out of the tub
she wraps me in a large towel, mummy tight
like she did after the bath when I was a baby
and hugs me.
Celi, mi vida.
Mima’s tone is sweet again.
We don’t know if it hurts a butterfly
as it hatches from its chrysalis.
We see it struggle yes, but we know
that it will have a great reward.
In the end, it becomes a winged creature
more magical than when it started.
I press my head into her shoulder
and think about butterflies
I manage to grimace out a whimpy,
Perdón, Mima.
My apology snuffed by the wet hair in my mouth.
I know, mija, I am sorry that we don’t agree
but your body has come into the moon now
and we have to honor it.
She says as she brushes strands away,
How about we begin to prepare for it
and then see how you feel after?
I lay my forehead on her lips
with the littlest nod.
Then suddenly, Marco’s on my mind
and my sloppy secrets finally rush out …
I’ve been a creep to Marco.
I went behind Marco’s back
and agreed to go to the movies with Iván
after Iván made fun of Marco
for being a xochihuah.
Surprised that I change the conversation
from me to Marco
and that I’ve sunk so low perhaps
Mima shakes her head and says,
I can’t make that one better for you, mija.
As I dress into my pajamas
Juju walks into our room
begins his banter of facts.
You know, you can’t fold
a square in half more than seven times?
I’ve tried it with origami; it’s impossible.
He’s still a child and I envy what he doesn’t know.
I can hear
the raindrop conga sound
of Papi’s drums
coming from his studio.
Calling …
Juju’s talking melts away.
I walk past him
out the door
toward the garage.
Papi is playing
a rumba guaguancó
I don’t say a word
let my body begin to
answer the sounds of his drumming.
Papi welcomes me with a nod
turns up his playing
makes brighter sounds
round sounds
colored sounds
a timeless talking unlike
Mima’s or Juju’s.
I just dance.
Suddenly he switches rhythms
to a samba
and I fall deep in feet movement
a conga
and I climb spirit high from side to side
a bomba
and I twirl and mark my
beat with my arms
that Papi catches
effortlessly, in sync.
I don’t see that
Mima and Juju
are both standing
at the door witnessing
with Papi
the closest I have ever
come to clarity
lighter and
as unstuck
as I could ever be.
Until I stop
too out of breath
to dance
anymore.
Marco called me later
that evening on video chat.
The first time in so long.
He was worried about me.
Luckily, I’ve got the tablet again.
Marco, I’m sorry, I say again, slowly.
I went to the movies with Iván
and his friends after he was mean to you.
I know. Juju told me.
You knew?
Yeah, and I also know about
the solstice at the park. Aurora told me.
I ain’t gonna lie. That hurt, Celi.
It’s why I was so mad at you for so long.
I was a real bum. I’m so sorry.
I reach out to the screen.
We try to simulate our handshake.
Thanks for not hating me.
You’re a way better friend than I am.
Guess what? My mom wasn’t all talk
she’s really making me
> have a moon ceremony, I surrender.
Whoa.
Mima says that I can invite a few friends
as a chance to learn about ceremonia
but I only want you to be there.
Will you come?
I don’t know. It’s for women only right?
She said it was okay because you’re
a xochihuah with boy and girl energies
it’s more sacred and stuff.
I guess she’s right. You know what my dad told me?
He said that some Mexica priests
were xochihuah too
and were revered for it.
That shreds, que no?
See! It’s perfect.
My dad also said that if I wanted to
we could do a Temazcal ceremonia for me.
You mean, like do a sweat lodge and pray all night kinda thing.
Yeah, but for xochihuah. ‘Cept we haven’t figured out how it will work.
That’s hecka cool.
Marco shyly asks,
How’s it feel to bleed?
I try to describe the wetness
the feeling like you are peeing but not
how the cotton pad that just sits there
collecting blood is really the strangest part.
It sort of trips me out
to think about when I’ll get my moon.
It’s not as bad as it sounds. Don’t get me wrong.
Not because of what you said, but because
for me, it’ll be like going back
against what I’ve gained.
It will take me back to being
only the girl I used to be.
What if it erases my boyness?
I just want to continue to be me,
the Marco and Magda me, I mean.
I hear ya.
I nod but I feel the opposite
about myself.
I don’t say it out loud.
I’m done hurting his feelings.
I do want to go back to the girl
I used to be.
I wear an extra-absorbent pad
the next day for our recital.
Mima drops me off
one full block away from La Peña!
I can feel the bulk of the cotton
as I walk into the center
alone.
I see Iván come in early
even though I never invited him.
I march over without thinking
I smack him with words.
I want you to know something.
Marco is my friend.
MY BEST FRIEND since we were babies
and no one is going to make fun of him.
I don’t care how smart or funny you think you are!
Hi, Celi, nice to see you too.
His sarcasm stirs me for a second
with that crushy feeling again
but I shake it off quickly
because he makes me boil
and I keep going,