Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz

by Belinda Acosta

  “She’s here!” she called out, when she saw Bianca’s pink Bug pull onto the grounds. “She’s here!”

  All the nurses and attendants gathered around to see what all the excitement was about. By the time Bianca got to the building, the main corridor was lined on both sides with attendants, patients, and visitors, curious to see who the lovely young woman was who’d entered the building.

  “You look real nice,” Abel, the attendant who had bet against Bianca, said. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

  “She sure does,” Marie said.

  “Let’s go over here in the light,” Teresa said to her daughter. Teresa asked Abel to take a picture of her and her daughter, and she smiled brightly as they stood together.

  “I have something for you,” Teresa said. She pulled out a crumpled paper bag and gave it to Bianca. “Here. I’m not supposed to have it, and it belongs to you anyway.” Bianca dug into the sack carefully and was shocked to find a tiara—her tiara from the quinceañera that wasn’t.

  “How did you get this?” Bianca asked. “I thought—I didn’t know where it went. I thought it was lost forever.”

  “Now, you have something pretty to wear today.”

  “No, Mami—it’s not my quinceañera. It’s Carmen’s. I’m going to be the Madrina de la tiara. So, I can’t wear this,” Bianca explained. “Only the quince gets to wear the tiara. Remember?”

  “I don’t want to remember that day the way it was. I want to remember it the way it should have been,” Teresa said. “Please, just put it on for me to see.”

  Bianca wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but she did as her mother asked, and it made Teresa ecstatic.

  “Oh!” Teresa said. “I want to make it better.”

  “There’s nothing to make better,” Bianca said. “I have to go, Mami. I can’t be late.” She started to take off the tiara, and Teresa began to whimper.

  “No! Leave it! Leave it! You should wear it!”

  “I’m not going to my quinceañera, Mami.”

  “Well then, keep it. It belongs to you. But I have something else.” She shoved her hands into her other pocket and pulled out a small velvet-covered box and handed it to her daughter. Bianca was shocked when she saw what was inside.

  “Those are my favorite earrings,” Teresa said. “I bought them specifically for your quinceañera. They might be too grown-up for you, but if you’re old enough to be a madrina, I think you’re old enough for a good pair of diamond earrings.”

  Bianca noticed how hard her mother was working to be clear and focused, and she decided she should ask the question she’d been wondering about since she began visiting her mother.

  “Mami, do you—do you want to come?”

  Teresa was tempted, but her fear was larger.

  “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. I can’t leave here. I can’t,” Teresa said.

  “Okay, okay,” Bianca said, patting her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know, you’re invited,” Bianca said. Teresa immediately calmed down.

  “I have nothing to wear. I have nothing to wear, and my hair. No, I can’t go. Not today. Not yet.”

  Bianca tried on the earrings and Teresa was pleased.

  “Oh—you’re almost all grown up,” Teresa said forlornly. “Promise me something.”

  “Mande.”

  “Promise to bring me back a piece of cake and to take lots of pictures. And …”

  “What else, Mami?”

  “Don’t forget me in here. I’m going to come and visit you one day. Out there. Not today, but soon. I will,” Teresa said. “But not today.”

  Bianca wasn’t sure her mother would be able to keep her promise, but it didn’t matter. It was the idea that she wanted to try that mattered most to her. Bianca would be surprised and most touched when she organized her first trunk show and Teresa de la Torre was there, looking todo fabulous on her proud husband’s arm.

  Ay, the way people talk! The chismosas were in high gear when it came time to start Carmen’s quinceañera. There’s something about drama—especially when it’s someone else’s drama—to get the mouths blabbing. Everyone likes to watch a fire, but the chismosas really love to fan it, starting rumors about this and that, making people wonder what’s going to happen next. So, let me tell you how it really happened before the truth gets burnt.

  The day was a blur until Ana found herself standing on the steps of the church, her feet throbbing, and her hair wilting, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even care when the cake was late. And who said the mariachi didn’t come? No, they were late, too, driving around in circles, which is easy to do porque San Antonio is laid out on a wagon wheel. No joke. Cynthia finally called and Ana set them straight. The tiara? The quince doesn’t get the tiara until she’s up there at the front of the church! Híjole! Everyone knows that! And since Bianca was the Madrina de la tiara, you know for sure that that thing was going to be right where it was supposed to be, when it was supposed to be. Bianca tearing her dress? Pura mentira. Rafa ignored Bianca’s offer to give him a touch-up for his black eye, and the boy poked aquí and ollá, that was just El Rey trying to be helpful. And it was a good thing, too, because when the cake almost fell, who do you think was there to save it? Even the apple-shaped girl who almost popped him the day before had to give him props for that. The only time Ana worried, really worried, was when she could not find Diego and she didn’t know where he was. When he showed up with Esteban, she was afraid there was going to be trouble, so all of them went to the room where Carmen was waiting for the ceremony to begin. When the door snapped shut and it was just the four of them—Diego, Esteban, Ana, and Carmen—Diego turned to his sister.

  “He should be here,” he said to his sister. “I know what you said and I know this is your deal, but he should be here.”

  Carmen said she never wanted to see him again, and if Ana were to be truthful, she would have loved to have kept Carmen and this day all to herself, but she knew that was not right.

  “Mi’ja, he’s your father,” Ana said into Carmen’s ear. “I know what you said, and I know you meant it, but trust me—this will be one of those times you will always regret if you do it the wrong way.”

  The woman who worked for the church knocked on the door. The ceremony had to begin.

  “I want you to walk me in,” Carmen said.

  “You mean, me and your tío Marcos?” Ana asked.

  “No, just you and me.”

  Ana wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do.

  “’Apá can dance with me at the reception,” Carmen said. They hadn’t practiced the fancy dance Bianca had choreographed for the reception, but Esteban would do his very best. He would try. And Ana was right. Many years later, when Carmen looked back at her quinceañera, she would agree that she was glad Esteban was there after all, porque that first waltz was the first step on the long climb to forgiveness.

  “Thank you,” Esteban said to Ana. “Thank you.” He was still in shock and mourning. He lost one daughter, he was going to do all he could not to lose another. Later, when he was old, and living alone with his thoughts, his garden, his tools, and his TV, he would look forward to the days when his two girls, one a young mother and the other visiting from out of town, would come as sisters and friends, to check on their old ’apá.

  This would not be the end of drama in Ana’s long life. Ay, no, but at least it was the kind she was looking for. She lost her luggage in Rome. She broke a tooth in Ireland. In Paris, she thought she lost her wallet but was relieved when a handsome stranger returned it to her. She invited him for coffee afterward and spent the next morning eating cheese and apples in his bed. She spent one New Year’s Eve in Mexico City and another in New Zealand with Beatriz. Ana would not marry again, but she would never be alone.

  As Cynthia played “Las Mañanitas” on her harp, and the court filed in, Carmen and Ana stood in the back of the church, the last of the pairs to walk down the aisle. As they started walk
ing, Carmen looked at her mother, clasped her hand, and promised herself she would never, ever let her go.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  Did you have a quinceañera, a sweet sixteen, or a bat mitzvah? What did it mean to you? To your loved ones?

  Traditional quinceañeras have deep ties to Catholicism. How is religion treated in this novel? In your opinion, is it a good thing that traditionally religious celebrations (like the quinceañera) are becoming increasingly secular? Why?

  There are several stereotypes that this novel plays with and ultimately diffuses. For example, Mocte describes Cynthia as “the white girl from Kansas.” However, she is probably more familiar with Mexican folk music than any of the other characters in the novel, as she is in the mariachi band. Can you name some other stereotypes this novel entertains and then turns on their heads?

  When Ana first meets Montalvo, she is obviously struck by his physical presence. Although she senses his interest in her, she does not allow herself to enter a relationship with him. What do you think of her reaction? Is it noble? Should Ana have been more responsive to his advances?

  Do the young adults in the novel see the quinceañera as merely an opportunity to have a party, or do they attach greater significance to it?

  What happened to Esteban and Ana’s marriage? Was it just the indiscretion that drove them apart?

  What do you think of Montalvo’s self-absorption? Do you see it as a manifestation of the artist maintaining his autonomy, or a selfish and immature approach to life?

  There are early clues that Montalvo may not be as wonderful as he seems. Can you name some of them? Were you surprised by his behavior when he revealed his ultimate plans to Ana?

  Near the end of the novel, Beatriz asks Ana if the quinceañera is commemorating “the death of a girl or the birth of a woman.” What is your opinion?

  Ana protected her children by not telling them the truth about their father. Her children continued to look up to Esteban and blamed Ana for the separation, and yet she still didn’t tell them about Esteban’s affair. Why do you think she did this?

  GUÍA PARA GRUPOS DE LECTURA

  ¿Tuvo usted una quinceañera, una Sweet Sixteen, o una bat mitzvah? ¿Qué le significó? ¿Y a su familia?

  Las quinceañeras tradicionales tienen lazos profundos con el catolicismo. ¿Cómo se trata la religión en esta novela? En su opinión, ¿es una buena cosa que las celebraciones tradicionalmente religiosas (como la quinceañera) están llegando a ser cada vez más seculares? ¿Por qué?

  Hay varios estereotipos con los cuales esta novela juega y difunde al final. Por ejemplo, Mocte describe a Cynthia como “la muchacha blanca de Kansas”. Sin embargo, ella probablemente sabe más sobre la música tradicional mexicana que algunos de los otros caracteres en la novela, porque ella está en el mariachi. ¿Puede usted nombrar algunos otros estereotipos que esta novela entretiene y como los gira?

  Al principio, cuando Ana conoce a Montalvo, ella nota su presencia física. Aunque ella detecta su interés en ella, ella no se permite que incorpore una relación con él. ¿Qué piensa usted de su reacción? ¿Es noble? ¿Debe Ana haber sido más receptiva a sus avances cuidadosos?

  ¿Cómo ven la quinceañera los jóvenes en la novela: como simplemente una oportunidad de tener una fiesta, o hay un significado más grande para ellos?

  ¿Qué pasó con el matrimonio de Esteban y de Ana? ¿Fue solo la indiscreción que los separó?

  ¿Qué piensa usted en el ensimismamiento de Montalvo? ¿Cree usted que es una manifestación del artista que mantiene su autonomía, o un acercamiento egoísta, y no maduro a la vida?

  Hay pistas tempranas que indican que Montalvo no es tan maravilloso como él se parece. ¿Puede usted nombrar algunas de ellas? ¿Le sorprendió su comportamiento cuando él reveló sus últimos planes a Ana?

  Cerca del fin de la novela, Beatriz le pregunta a Ana si la quinceañera está conmemorando “la muerte de una muchacha o el nacimiento de una mujer.” ¿Cuál es su opinión?

  Ana le protegió a su marido, quien la traicionó, por no decirle a los niños la verdad. Sus niños continuaron admirar a Esteban y le echaron a Ana todo la culpa por la separación, pero Ana todavía no les dijo nada sobre el asunto de Esteban. ¿Por qué piensa usted que Ana hizo esto?

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  FOR A SNEAK PEEK

  AT THE NEXT

  QUINCEAÑERA CLUB

  NOVEL:

  Sisters, Strangers, and

  Starting Over

  Beatriz was floating near the edge of sleep, where memories, dreams, and secrets seeped into the seen world. She was still tired from the day before and wasn’t ready to wake up yet, happily sunk in the lazy sensations of her dreams: the sun on her naked back, bare feet in cool water, the smell of a newborn, first kisses, and laughter. It was the laughter that stirred her—wild and uncinched, the way children laugh. At first, she thought she was dreaming of her boys when they were little, wrestling like puppies in the backyard. But the laughter wasn’t from her boys, it was from one child—a girl, her laughter tinkling like a bell that Beatriz remembered but had spent so much of her waking life trying to forget, she almost didn’t recognize it. Just as Beatriz was about to realize whose laughter she was hearing, she felt a slump, as if someone had sat down hard on the edge of the bed near her feet. The sensation snatched her from her dream and she snapped her head up to see who was there. But there was no one.

  The sun was just pulling itself into the sky, so Beatriz didn’t need to turn on the lamp to see the outline of her husband, Larry, sleeping like a stone on his side of the bed. Her heart was racing, but she was relieved, taking in the familiar jut of her husband’s jaw and the arc of his cheekbones. It wasn’t light enough to see, but she knew a moss of reddish-brown hair flecked with gray, was sprouting around his mouth, over his jaw, and down his sinewy neck. Longer locks of that same-colored hair fell over his forehead and into the corner of one eye. Beatriz leaned over and swept the hair away with her fingertip and then laid her head on top of her hands to watch him sleep. One deep breath cleared the strangeness she felt earlier—it was just a weird dream, wasn’t it? It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t even make sense. She steered her thoughts toward the long list of things to do before their anniversary party later in the day, even though she didn’t want to get caught up in all that yet. What she wanted was to enjoy the stillness, when it was just her and Larry, alone in bed. She wanted to sway in the waves of his breath, sink into the luscious comfort of their bed, and enjoy the tantalizing closeness of his bare skin near hers.

  When Beatriz saw Larry sleeping, she saw the boy she fell in love with twenty years ago. Twenty years already! It amazed her. She’d seen what her comadre Ana went through when her marriage crumbled—a painfully grinding breakup that almost turned her to dust. Since witnessing that, Beatriz began to wonder if long-term marriages were a thing of the past. But here she was, in bed with the man she loved and still loved more than she thought possible. Larry Milligan was the father of her children, two strong boys that had given them many days of joy and aggravation, sometimes at once.

  And Beatriz couldn’t think of a better companion to have gone through those days with. Larry was there for all of it, from the joyous moments to the let-me-crawl-under-the-bed blues. Beatriz felt a sudden twang of affection for her husband and wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to wake him. It was going to be a long day and they needed all the rest they could get. But when she rolled over and closed her eyes, it was too late. The long list of things to do had already started filling her head, one popping into her head after the next, crowding each other and flowing over until she was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Beatriz sighed. Ana and some of the last-minute deliveries would show up early. She decided to get up and make sure everything they set up the night before was still as they left it.

  Beatriz wrapped herself in the silky, emerald robe Larry had given her as an early anniversary present. He loved how the green fabric gleamed against her caramel-colo
red skin, how her hair cascaded over her shoulders, her curls crazy in contrast to the quiet smoothness of the cloth. He could barely contain himself when she modeled it for him, opening it to reveal the matching slip of a gown and exposing the voluptuous hips he adored. When she had crawled into bed the night before, Larry pulled Beatriz toward him ravenously. Unfortunately, they had been working on the house all day and into the evening, getting ready for their big pachanga. Both of them were hungry for some intimacy, but the comfort of their bed was more seductive, and they began to doze off.

  “I’m sorry, mi amor,” Larry slurred before he finally drifted off to sleep. A moment later, Beatriz was also sleeping, her arms wrapped around her husband’s neck, her head nestled under his chin, Larry’s hand cupping the fullest part of her rump, another one of his favorite parts of his wife’s curvy body.

  Beatriz cinched the robe around her waist and padded out of their room. As she made a cup of tea, she looked into the backyard. The extra tables and chairs they’d rented for the party were there, gleaming bright white against the adobe fence she and the boys had painted a warm pumpkin. The small tent set up next to the house for the bar area was still standing, as was the tent near the grill, opposite and away in the far corner of the yard. The long tables that would be covered with yards of slick Mexican oilcloth in bright reds and yellows that Beatriz bought at Fiesta on Main were standing end to end, ready for the food she had prepared the day before, and more to come from friends and loved ones. They could have catered their anniversary party, or reserved a nice restaurant, but Beatriz was tired of formal events. She had enough of that at work. She wanted a party where parents would feel comfortable bringing their kids, where guests could kick off their shoes and los viejos could sit in peace but not be ignored.

  Beatriz stirred a drop of milk into her tea then walked out into the yard. The sweet magnolias from her neighbor’s tree greeted her, and she inhaled deeply. She could see everything was in place from the night before. So why did she feel like something was not quite right? She walked around the entire yard, admiring the greenery Ana and her daughter, Carmen, had helped Beatriz plant along the fence last weekend. She took one of the wooden chairs stacked against the fence, opened it with a snap, and sat, resting her cup on one knee, which she crossed over the other. The basics were covered, Beatriz thought. So what was the problem? She closed her eyes. Maybe she dozed a little (or maybe she didn’t), but when she felt a hand on her shoulder she lurched as if one of the legs of her chair had given way, making her tip her cup. The tea sloshed over her knee and down her leg.