Girl in the Mirror

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “Tío Miguel, they say we should leave the house now. We should go!”

  “Yes, yes, I know. We will. Are you all packed up?”

  “Yes,” answered Cisco, trying to be manly despite the fear shining in his eyes. “Mama has our bags in the truck. And some food.”

  “Good. Where is your mama?”

  “She’s at the nursery. They’re carrying the stock to the top of the hill.”

  “Okay. Listen up. I need your help. Maria Elena, go gather up some first aid supplies, flashlights and batteries. And a portable radio if you have one. Then listen to the news report for the road they’re advising us to take to higher ground. Cisco, go downstairs and turn off the electric, water and gas utilities. You know how to do that?”

  His chin went up. “Of course I do.”

  “Good. Do it. And see if Mama has any emergency drinking water down in the root cellar. If it’s flooded down there, forget it. Stay out. Understand? Okay then. I’ll be back.”

  Cisco nodded, relieved to have a job to do. Michael went to the back room, where he found himself a thick rain slicker and knee-high rubber boots, then, seeing that Maria Elena and Cisco were busy with their tasks, he went out in search of his father.

  Michael found him standing on the deck of a Mondragon pickup, defying the rain, waving madly as he directed Rosa and Manuel in the loading of perennials into the back.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Michael roared, climbing up in the back of the truck to stand in his face. He had to shout to be heard over the storm. “It’s dangerous! We have to evacuate.”

  “It’s not dangerous!” Luis roared back. “How’s a little bit of water going to hurt me?”

  “You stupid old fool, it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s those children!”

  Luis slowed down and wiped the water from his face.

  “They’ve called for an immediate evacuation,” Michael called out to Manuel and Rosa when they approached, each carrying an armload of hosta. “The river is cresting, and when it overflows, we won’t be able to get out. There’ll be water up to our necks.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Luis shouted angrily. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the grim determination on his face. There was the glint of madness in his eyes.

  “Then stay,” Michael shouted back. “But you—” He turned to Manuel and Rosa. “You have to take care of your children. Leave now and take the recommended route. Go on!”

  “I’m not leaving Papa!” Rosa shouted over the storm. She set the plants down in the truck, the mud leaving black streaks down her yellow raincoat. Her face was as determined and defiant as Luis’s. “I’ve never left this place and I won’t leave now. You go. You’re good at leaving.” She was shaking with the current of her resentment, unleashed now at this desperate moment. Her anger was a raw, frightening thing. A maelstrom raging inside her chest.

  “You see, Papa?” she cried out. “It’s me, your daughter, who stays by your side. Who does what you want her to do. Not your sons. Look at me, Papa! Me! Not your sons!”

  Luis climbed down from the back of the truck and held open his arms. Rosa ran into them.

  Michael jumped down and walked past his father and Rosa to Manuel. His brother-in-law’s eyes were dark with mistrust. Michael approached him slowly, as he would an animal with its teeth bared.

  “Manuel,” he said, stopping before him and speaking in a low voice. “Now is the moment not to be a son, but to be a father. Don’t be like him,” he said, waving his hand to indicate Luis. “Rosa won’t go. You know she won’t. Don’t turn your back on your children now. You’ve got to take Cisco and Maria Elena to safety. It’s not too late. Save your children, Manuel.”

  “I need him here!” Luis shouted angrily.

  “Go,” Michael urged. “I’ll take your place here.”

  Manuel tightened his mouth in a grim line of determination. He stuck out his hand and Michael took it; they shook firmly. Then Manuel took off at a brisk clip to the house.

  Luis raised his face to the sky and laughed out loud at the thunder in the clouds. “This woman, she is the man of the family. She is macho, no?”

  “Man? Macho?” Michael called back with disgust. He saw the dark, insidious side of macho. It could turn ugly.

  “What is a real man? Does a real man turn his back on his son? Does a real man abandon his children to danger? If you don’t protect your children, what kind of man are you?”

  “I am a man who will fight for what is his,” he bellowed loud enough for the heavens to hear. “This land is everything to me. Do you hear me? Everything! I will not leave it.” With a wild fury, he began stacking the containers of hosta into the back of the truck, the rain pouring down his face as he labored.

  “Nor will I.” Rosa disappeared into the nursery, bound for more containers.

  Michael swore under his breath. At least Manuel would get the children out to safety. The water was already at their ankles. In a few hours more, it would be slithering toward the house.

  “Father, we should go!”

  “You go! You are nothing. You have no culture. No language. No family. You go!”

  Michael gritted his teeth, remembering his promise to his mother. “I’ll help you for a few hours. That is all. Then we’ll all leave.”

  His father raised his eyes to meet Michael’s gaze, triumph shining clear. But he didn’t reply.

  By four o’clock, they abandoned the rest of the nursery stock. They’d managed to transport a large number of pots to higher ground. Out in the fields, the winds had wrecked the orchards and the floods loosened the vines and dragged the stock out of the soil. By twilight, the containers were floating in the floodwater, a colorful flotilla of perennials, shrubs and ground cover.

  Michael, Luis and Rosa stumbled through the thigh-high water up the hill, then waded through earth as spongy as chocolate pudding to reach the house, which was well situated on a high point overlooking the valley. They kicked off their boots on the porch and pushed into the silence of the darkened house, the storm still raging behind them. They stood panting in exhaustion.

  “The electricity is out,” said Rosa, testing the light switch.

  “I had Cisco turn it off.”

  “Well, let’s turn it back on! It’s freezing in here. We’ll die of the cold.”

  “Water conducts electricity like a wire. If we step into the water anywhere we’ll be fried. The only way to be safe is to shut off all the power to the house.”

  “I’ll wear rubber boots.”

  “No, that won’t work.”

  “Miguel is right,” said Luis in a low, tired growl. “Keep it off. Where’s a goddamn flashlight?”

  Michael found his way to the dining room table and fished around until he found what felt like a flashlight. His hands were stiff from the icy cold outdoors, but he managed to flick his puckered thumb on the switch. Suddenly, welcome light pierced the darkness. Good for Cisco and Maria Elena, he thought. They’d gathered up a table full of supplies: jugs of water, tins of food, a first aid kit, four emergency lanterns and a stack of candles and flares.

  “A radio,” exclaimed Rosa, spotting one on the table.

  “Thank God. I’ll turn on the weather.”

  The three gathered around the table, shivering, listening to the grim report. The day had seen record-level rainfall, double the biggest storm so far. The levee had broken, sending ten- to twenty-foot-high walls of mud and water lurching down roads and heading straight for the center of town. All the inhabitants had been evacuated. They were asking anyone who might still be in the area to seek the highest point and prepare for the worst. For a tense moment no one spoke.

  “We’d better get out of here,” exclaimed Rosa, her voice high with fear.

  “We can’t,” Michael cut her off as she headed for the door. “The roads have changed to rivers. All hell’s broken loose out there. Even the major arteries are cut off. We’re trapped here now. We’ll have to try to ride out the storm somehow.�
�

  “We can’t do that!” Rosa exclaimed. “They said people were dying out there. It’s worse than the storms before. The water almost got to the house then. It’ll come for sure this time. I’m not going to sit here and wait to die! I’m calling for help,” Rosa declared, running for the phone. She picked up the receiver and listened. Her face drained of color. “It’s dead.”

  Michael saw her panic swell up and moved to wrap his arms securely around her. “We’ll be okay, Rosa. We’ll be fine. Look, there’s plenty of supplies. We’re on high ground. We might get wet, but we’ll be fine.”

  He kept his voice calm, not feeling the least bit comforted himself by the empty words. He knew they were in trouble—big trouble. When he sensed that she was calm, he stepped back and smiled reassuringly. He was pleased to see her smile back without any of the anger he had come to expect.

  “Let’s try and get dry at least. We’re in for a long night.”

  Rosa nodded stiffly, trying to believe. “I’ll go get some of Papa’s clothes. I don’t think either of us will fit in Mama’s or Bobby’s.” She forced a choked laugh and headed for the bedrooms.

  “Shit, this crazy California weather,” Luis cursed, removing his coat. Underneath he was soaked to the skin.

  “One year there is no rain and we have a drought. Then there is too much rain and we have floods. In between we get earthquakes and fires. Goddamn California weather.”

  Michael walked to the door and opened it, shining his light into the storm. What he saw made his heart lurch and his skin break out in a sweat, despite the freezing cold rain. Water was crawling up the slope of the drive—and it was moving fast.

  “Papa, there’ll be water in here in no time. Come on,” he said, closing the door tight and heading for the supplies.

  “Grab this stuff and bring it upstairs.”

  “You don’t think the water’s going to get that high?” Rosa was walking back into the room, her arms filled with jeans and flannel shirts.

  “It’s just a precaution. We’d better get this stuff upstairs.”

  She nodded, but her eyes were wide with fear.

  For once, Rosa did as she was told. Her light disappeared up the staircase. Michael thought to himself that this was the first time in the past three years that the three of them were working as a single team. That was something, he thought to himself. It took a natural disaster, but what the hell?

  Luis went into his back office and began stuffing papers and photographs into a tote bag. Michael ran into the kitchen, his light slithering across the cabinets as he ripped through the shelves and drawers until he found a plastic-coated tote bag, then hurried back to stuff supplies into it. The water was pouring in through the doors. It was already two inches deep on the first floor.

  “Papa! Do you have a rubber raft?”

  Rosa stopped on the stairs, her eyes bulging as she stared at the rising water in the house. She moistened her lips.

  “Oh, my God…”

  “I have one of those blow-up boats in the garage,” Luis replied, wading back into the living room, the tote around his shoulders.

  “We can’t go out to get it. Forget it, Papa. Go on upstairs.”

  “I think Cisco has one of those Boogie boards in his room,” Rosa cried.

  “Go get it, and stay up there. Hurry up! Papa, come on!”

  “Who is giving the orders around here?” Luis bellowed, rearing up and yanking his arm from Michael’s grip. “I said I have a raft. I’m going to get it.”

  Before Michael could stop him, Luis strode angrily to the front door and swung it open. He was met with a five-foot tidal wave.

  “Papa!” Rosa screamed as the water gushed in, sweeping Luis off his feet and swirling him madly around the room. Michael dove after him, stroking hard and furiously in the angry water that filled the small, dark space, crashing them both against the wall. As he swam through inky water up to his chest, he felt a bruising bump on his shoulder by something hard and stiff in the water. A broken branch? A piece of furniture? An animal? He didn’t want to know. He pushed on, toward his father’s voice, grabbing hold of his hand before he floated out the front door.

  Rosa was screaming to them from high up on the stairs. “Where are you? I can’t see you!”

  “Grab his hand!” Michael shouted, pushing toward her narrow beam of light. “Pull him up.”

  Rosa was glad—for the first time in her life—for her size and strength. Bending far over, she grabbed hold of her father’s hand and pulled him out of the water to the second floor. Michael climbed up right behind them.

  Exhausted, numb with cold and weary to the bone, Michael slumped against the hall wall beside his sister and his father and lay his head back, chattering and breathing heavily.

  “I’m sorry,” Luis sputtered beside him. “Lo siento.”

  Michael draped his arms around his father and Rosa.

  They huddled together for an unknown length of time, gaining comfort in their nearness. Outside, they could hear the storm roaring and shrieking, and the rain battering and shaking the roof. Inside, the water swirled below as black and thick as steeped tea. Michael could smell the sour stench of spoilage, and his shoulder and cheek were throbbing where he was hit in the water.

  “We’d better see what’s going on,” he said when he’d caught a second wind. Turning on the flashlight, he shone it down the staircase. The beam of light revealed that the water was rising, step by step. Rosa sucked in her breath, and her hand clenched his arm. Luis swore softly in Spanish. Michael flicked off the light and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes tight.

  “Are we going to die?” Rosa’s voice was shrill.

  “Not if I can help it. Ojala! Giving my time to this place is one thing. I damn well don’t intend to give it my life.” He mopped his face with his palm, then ran it through his hair, pushing the long, damp tendrils clean from his face.

  “At least the children are safe. Thank God Manuel had the guts to buck you for once and protect his children.” He swung his head to face his sister. “Think what would have happened if they hadn’t left. Do you think you could have saved them from that water down there? Could you save them now?”

  “What business is it of yours?” Rosa cried back. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

  “I’m making it my business! Ever since I came home you’ve been rubbing my nose in my efforts here. You’ve got a chip on your shoulder the size of California, and even though I can take what you dish out, I can’t sit by and watch you take your anger out on your kids. I know about Cisco. I should have said something long before. Think of your children, Rosa. You put your need for Papa’s approval ahead of your need to care for your children. If you’ve got a problem with me, deal with me.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a problem with you,” she replied. Her resentment was clear. “You come home and suddenly you’re El Patron. The big man in charge. Just because you’re a male, a son, you get everything.”

  He thrust his jaw forward, unaware how much he resembled his nephew. Unaware that his sister was making that same comparison. “I’m just doing my job.”

  “Shut up, Rosa,” Luis thundered. “This is no time to go into this.”

  “Again, you tell me what to do! This is the perfect time to go into this. We are forced together here. For all we know we might die here. I want you to listen to me for once!”

  “Even now, at such a time, you talk to your father like…”

  Michael cut him off. “Papa, let her talk.”

  She skipped a beat, registering his support. “Miguel is right,” she said in a calmer tone. “I am angry at him, but it’s really between you and me, Papa. I am never good enough for you. It was always Miguel and Roberto who mattered. The good sons. Always it was ‘Rosa, don’t yell, don’t fight, don’t be like a man. Listen to your mother.’ Yet, just tonight you told me I was macho, as if that was the greatest compliment you could give me.” She wiped her eyes with angr
y strokes. “Even my body was not good enough. It was too big. Too strong. A body that should’ve been Roberto’s. All my life I felt I wasn’t worth much. That a woman wasn’t worth much.”

  “I always tell you a woman is worth her weight in gold, but you never act like a woman!” Luis cried back.

  “But I am. I do!” She shook her head sharply, sending droplets of water across their faces. “Your ideas of what I should do as a woman are just as warped as your ideas of what Roberto should do as a man. Or Miguel should do as a son. They are ancient. Out of touch. Like telling us to endure. Aguantar.” Her movements rustled the dark.

  “When I was young, all I wanted to do was go to college, like my brothers. But you said, ‘No. What does a woman need to learn besides how to take care of her family?”’ She swallowed hard, gathering her control. “I did what you wanted, Papa. I got married. I gave you grandchildren. I worked for you in the business when your sons left you. And still that wasn’t enough. When they came home, you took it all away.

  “Do you know how that makes me feel? The anger goes deep into my soul. It blinds me. I try to hold it in. But sometimes I can’t control it. I explode.”

  “And Cisco gets the brunt of it,” Michael said softly.

  Rosa’s eyes widened, then she averted them, turning her head and shrugging. “Just a few hits. It’s nothing you and I didn’t get from Papa.”

  “Do you want Cisco to grow up to hit his kids, too?”

  Luis grumbled and barked out, “So it’s my fault again. Always it is my fault.”

  “No,” Rosa said in a strangled voice. “No, this is my fault. When I think how I put my children in danger. They could be here now. My babies.” The mountainous woman slumped.

  “Cisco is a lot like you,” Michael said gently. “You should be proud of him.”

  She buried her head deeper into the crook of her arm. “I love him.”

  “Rosa, this goes too deep,” Michael said. “You’re so mad at Papa, at me, that it’s eating you up inside. Love isn’t enough. You need help. You need to see someone.”