The Day of the Moon

by Graciela Limón

  “Yes, Señora, I’m sure. Muchas gracias.”

  As the two women made their way on the cobblestone street, Alondra felt that she was leaving her time and entering a world of the past.

  When Ursula yanked vigorously on the rope at the convent’s entrance, a deep bell rang, startling Ursula from her revery. The two waited for a few minutes, looking through the grates at a patio filled with potted geraniums and carnations. It was silent. Only the chirping of caged birds and the gurgle of a fountain reached them. Alondra pulled on the cord again, and this time a nun ran to the gate. She was young, and it appeared that she had been washing dishes; her arms and hands were smeared with soapsuds.

  “Buenas tardes.”

  “Buenas tardes, Señorita.” The sister’s stare seemed to reflect surprise at the presence of the two women.

  “I understand that your convent sometimes rents rooms to—”

  “Please come in.”

  The nun turned several times to look at Alondra and Ursula as they made their way through a courtyard, across an arched cloister, and into a small, dark office. When she opened the door, she smiled for the first time, indicating with her hand that they should sit. Alondra obeyed and took an oversized wooden chair, its seat and back covered in hard, worn leather. Ursula rested in a similar seat. They were alone. Not even the birds or the fountain could be heard through the thick adobe walls. All they could see of the garden were the clustered fronds of a palm tree that leaned against the latticed window. Most of the room’s walls were taken up by shelves loaded with books. They seemed to be old manuscripts; most of them were bound in faded leather, and from where she was sitting, she could make out that some of the titles had worn away.

  “Buenas tardes, Señorita.”

  Neither Alondra nor Ursula had heard the sister enter the room, and they were startled by her sudden presence. Like schoolgirls, they responded with one voice:

  “Buenas tardes, Madre.”

  Alondra felt a sharp jab of apprehension for the first time since leaving Los Angeles. During that instant, she wondered if Samuel had been right—that all of this might be a mistake.

  The woman was dressed in a coarse brown habit that hung to the floor, and her head was covered by a wimple and black veil, highlighting the transparent skin of her face. The sister appeared to be in her mid-forties. Her eyes were bright and deeply set, her nose was beaked, and her thin lips curved slightly downward. She looks like a bird, thought Alondra.

  “I understand you need a room?”

  “Yes, Madre.”

  “Where are you from? You’re not from these parts, I see.”

  “No, I’m not from this area. But my grandmother, Ursula, is from Chihuahua. I’m from Los Angeles, and I’m visiting Zapopan, hoping to find someone.”

  The nun’s eyebrows shot upward. She held that expression steadily as she looked at Alondra.

  “I’m here looking for a person who is interned in Sanatorio de San Juan de Dios.”

  “A relative?”

  “Yes. My mother.”

  The nun motioned for Alondra and Ursula to return to their seats, then she took another chair. Her face softened as she reflected. She looked out the window for several minutes, making them uneasy. At last she turned back to look at Alondra.

  “I’m sorry, Señorita, I’ve been rude. My name is Sister Consuelo, and I’m presently the superior of this community. Your grandmother’s name is Doña Ursula. May I ask your name?”

  “Alondra Santiago.”

  “Well, Alondra, let’s talk for a few moments. You and your grandmother are welcome here, and you can depend on a room to live in while you go about your project. Although our guests do not live inside the convent itself, we have a few rooms on the other side of the courtyard which most visitors find comfortable. We have a dining room for you, small but adequate, in which you can take your meals. You will have to share a bathroom, and you will get fresh towels and soap every day.”

  Alondra smiled, turning to look at Ursula whose expression showed that she, too, was pleased. She mouthed silently: Doña Ursula.

  “There are a few rules that must be kept. First, we ask you to attend morning mass with the community. The celebration begins at seven-thirty; after that, your breakfast will be ready. The sisters chant Matins at seven. You’re welcome to join us at that time, though you don’t have an obligation to do so.

  “The most important rule of our convent is this one: Our gates are opened at eight in the morning, and locked at eight at night. During those hours, our guests can come and go as they wish. However, anyone not indoors by the time the door is closed will have to sleep elsewhere.”

  Sister Consuelo looked at Alondra steadily; she was now smiling.

  “Yes, Madre. How much should we give as a deposit? I’m not sure how many days we’re going to be here.”

  The nun rose to her feet and stood gazing down at Alondra. “I don’t deal with that part of our household. Sister Sarita—she let you in—is in charge of our guests. She’ll tell you how much the room will cost you and when you should pay.” Sister Consuelo turned to Ursula and gave her an equally bright smile.

  “How long has your mother been a patient?”

  Alondra’s eyes widened, and she turned to Ursula for help. It struck her that she couldn’t answer the question.

  “Since 1939,” Ursula said.

  The nun’s eyebrows arched, and she pursed her lips. “You mustn’t be disappointed if you cannot find information regarding your mother. The place is notorious for its secrecy.”

  “Secrecy?”

  Sister Consuelo sighed. “It’s an asylum for the rich, and most of the patients are interned in silence—even concealment. Some of the families involved are ashamed that such a thing as insanity has struck them. I must confess to you that I’ve never been able to understand it. However, people are strange, and they feel that madness is the same as disgrace, or even scandal.”

  Alondra moved away from Sister Consuelo and went over to the window. From that point, she could see the fountain and the caged birds. The doubts Alondra had experienced minutes before melted away. She turned back to look at the nun.

  “Where should we begin?”

  “Do you know anyone of influence in Zapopan?”

  “We know only you.”

  The nun smiled wryly, and her small eyes brightened. She plunged her hands under the long scapular draped over the front of her habit and furrowed her forehead.

  “Doctor Silvestre Lozano, the director, is a patron of this convent and has often assisted us when we’ve needed help. He’s a kind man. He’s been head of the asylum only briefly—not more than two years. Give me time to approach him regarding your mother. I believe that would save you time and, hopefully, disappointment.”

  “Gracias, Madre. While we’re waiting, I think it would be a good idea to see the place. Where is the hospital?”

  “Very close. Everything is close in Zapopan. If you take a wrong turn, all you have to do is to return to the basilica and start all over again.” Sister Consuelo was smiling, but Alondra thought she detected a sudden glimmer of pity in her eyes.

  “Those stricken with madness are sometimes better off left alone, Alondra. It might be more prudent to leave things as they are.”

  “What if someone has been put away for another reason, not for insanity?”

  “Then all the more reason not to intrude. If a person has been put in that asylum unjustly, it means that there are powerful people behind it. Anyone, especially a foreigner, unknowing of the ways of this place, might well keep a distance.”

  “Madre, my mother was put in that place as a punishment by her father; she was not insane. He’s dead now, so unfortunately he’s escaped what he deserves. But if she’s still alive, nothing will keep me from taking her away with me.”

  “It’s late,” Sister consuelo said gently, “and I’m sure you’re tired after your journey. Sister Sarita will show you to your room. I’ll see you tomorrow morn
ing at mass. By the way, what is your mother’s name?”

  “Isadora Betancourt.”

  Chapter 21

  Alondra and Ursula’s room was small but comfortable; it had a large window through which early sunlight flooded. Alondra rose early after a fitful sleep. After she and Ursula dressed, they stepped out to the patio and into an old garden, filled with potted flowers and ferns. In the center was a weather-beaten stone fountain, where water spurted from the open mouth of a sculpted carp. Ursula drifted to one side of the garden while Alondra looked around, seeing that someone had already uncovered the bird cages. She leaned against a pillar and listened to the singing of canaries and zenzontles.

  She looked at her watch and realized that it was still too early for mass. For a moment she considered going back to the room, but the morning was so beautiful that she decided instead to stroll through the porticos and courtyards of the convent grounds. Sister Sarita had pointed out the chapel the evening before, saying that she would be welcome there at any time. Alondra turned away from the garden alone and walked over to take her seat before the nuns began to chant their prayers. When she went into the small church, she found several nuns already praying. Fearing her footsteps would disturb them, she was about to turn away from the doorway when she bumped into Sister Consuelo, who nudged her toward the benches, smiled, and silently led her to a side pew. She handed Alondra a thin, black book, then went to her place at the rear of the chapel.

  The paintings on the walls were all large, dark representations of saints and madonnas, most of them mounted in ornate, gilded frames. A statue of the Virgin Mary, garbed in a light blue gown, stood near the altar. Alondra noticed with surprise that the altar was strangely bare, in contrast to the intricate paintings surrounding it. All that she could make out on it were the tabernacle and two bronze candlesticks.

  Alondra leaned back, absorbing the peacefulness of the chapel. She listened to the soft treading of the nuns as they arrived and seated themselves at their place; a clock striking seven, its chimes filling the high vaults of the place with their silvery tinkle; the echo reverberating off the statues and stained-glass windows. She turned in the pew and saw that Ursula had taken a place a few benches behind her. Suddenly, the silence of the chapel was ended by a startling, high pitched note.

  ¡Ave María!

  The phrase had been chanted out by a single voice, and even though it went unanswered for the moment, Alondra saw that all the nuns rose to their feet and began to chant the prayers.

  Deus, in adjutorium meum intende.

  Alondra did not understand the words, but after a moment she remembered the book that Sister Consuelo handed her, and she opened it to find that it showed the Spanish text alongside the Latin. As she became more engrossed in the meaning of the chanting, she felt her spirit moved by the cadenced verses and rhythmic responses. The ritualistic standing, bowing, and sitting of the nuns gripped her imagination, slowly mesmerizing her with every verse, and she followed their movements, captivated by the spiraling voices:

  I was exalted like a cedar in Lebanon, and as a cypress tree on Mount Sion. Like a palm tree in Cades, and as a rose plant in Jericho was I exalted. I gave forth a sweet fragrance like cinnamon and aromatic balm. I yielded a sweet smell like choicest myrrh. I am black, but comely, O daughters of Jerusalem.

  Alondra felt her breath catch in her throat because she had never heard such words before. Her mind raced. She was copal. She was mahogany. She was cacao. She was peyote.

  Nigra sum, sed formosa, filiae Jerusalem:

  I am black, but comely, O daughters of Jerusalem.

  The verse was again intoned by the lead chanter. The words swelled over Alondra, and she closed her eyes. These were just prayers, she told herself, nothing that should move her so profoundly.

  Surge, amica mea, et veni. Iam hiems transit, imber abiit et recessit. Flores apparuerunt in terra nostra. Tempus putationes advenit.

  Rise up, my beloved, and come away; for the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; flowers appear on our land; the time of renewal is come.

  Alondra listened to the canticle, clinging to it. She was listening to her mother’s words, inviting her to come to her. The winter of despair and emptiness was over. Lost in the thoughts and sensations she had just experienced, Alondra remained in her seat long after mass ended.

  Afterward, she had breakfast with Ursula. She sipped hot chocolate and munched on sweet rolls brought to her by a nun who smiled as she silently handed over the dishes. Later, they left the convent and began to make their way to the basilica, passing the open market with its vegetable and meat stands, fruit vendors, shoe peddlers, stray dogs, and bawling children. When they reached the church, Alondra and Ursula stepped out onto the cobblestone street and began to make their way down the incline toward the brick buildings surrounded by austere walls. All the while, Alondra pondered on her experience in the chapel. Words swirled in her mind as she walked by Ursula’s side, and she repeated the chant because it gave her comfort. I am black, but comely, O daughters of Jerusalem.

  The next day, Alondra and Ursula sat in the library waiting for Sister Consuelo. They expected that she had news from Doctor Lozano. Now and then the splashing in the fountain and the chirping of birds penetrated the walls, soothing their anxiety.

  “Buenos días, Doña Ursula. Buenos días, Alondra.”

  “Buenos días, Madre.”

  The nun took the same chair she had sat in during their first meeting, taking time to arrange her habit around her arms and wrists. After she did this, she looked first at Ursula, then at Alondra.

  “I have news for you. Doctor Lozano has agreed to meet with you.”

  “When, Madre?” Alondra was sitting on the edge of her chair, trying to get closer to the nun. She was tense and what Sister Consuelo had just said had a strange effect on her. It filled her with fear but at the same time with excitement and joy. The memory of the transport she had experienced during the chanted prayers returned to her.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “She’s alive!” Alondra nearly shouted that her mother was alive, just as she had thought from the beginning. Ursula put her hands to her face. Her body rocked back and forth on the chair. When she pulled her hands away, she was mouthing prayers to Tata Hakuli and the Virgin Mary.

  Sister Consuelo, jarred, did not know what to say. After a few seconds she picked up where she had broken off, her voice betraying uncertainty.

  “He didn’t say that, Alondra. As I explained yesterday, Doctor Lozano is relatively new to the position, and the number of patients in the sanitarium is considerable. He said only that he would meet with you and your grandmother.”

  “We’re very grateful for your assistance. I’m sure that without you this would not be happening.”

  “Thank you, Alondra but I’m certain that my intervention was not absolutely necessary. Things happen because they must.”

  Alondra, still nervous and agitated, went on to relate to the nun as much as she knew of her mother. Ursula piped in many times, filling in gaps left by Alondra’s account.

  “I don’t know what to say except that, unfortunately, this story is like some others. Not many, but it is not the only time that a father has done such a thing. I’m sorry, Alondra.”

  Alondra explained that she and Ursula had tried to go into the asylum the day before, but had gotten only as far as the lobby before being stopped and told to leave the premises.

  “They did?”

  “¡Sí, Madre! They were quite rude.”

  Sister Consuelo turned to look at Ursula, startled by the sentiment in her words. She listened attentively as Ursula went on speaking.

  “But that did not stop us. I said to Alondra, ‘Niña, we haven’t come this far to be thrown out as if we were beggars!’ So, we left the building and made our way to its back. We did this by walking outside of those immense walls that circle to the rear. And what do you think we found, Madre?”

  “What?” Sister Consuelo ha
d crossed her legs and removed her hands from under the scapular, clasping them on her knees as she leaned forward.

  “There is a gate back there, and one can look inside through the iron bars. Alondra and I crept up, careful not to be seen, to where we could look at what was happening inside. There, in the light of the sun, we saw a large area with stairs leading up to an indoor patio, and because the entrance doors were open, we caught glimpses of people in white gowns. Isn’t this what we saw, niña?”

  “Yes. We think that those people were patients. Last night we hardly slept, thinking that one of them could have been my mother.”

  Sister Consuelo was fascinated. She had lived all of her life in Zapopan and had never seen that part of the asylum. Visitors were always shown to the more modern street entrance. However, she remembered seeing photographs of the original entrance with its iron gate and stairway leading to the central patio.

  “Well! Maybe you’re right, Alondra. Tomorrow will tell you much more, I assure you.”

  “What time should we meet with Doctor Lozano?”

  “He’s expecting you in his office at two in the afternoon. One of the sisters will show you the way.”

  The nun got to her feet and headed for the door. Before leaving, she turned to Alondra.

  “I pray that you find what you desire, and that your mother is in good health. Be strong and prepare yourself for what you don’t expect. Remember that we’re in God’s hands, and that certain events in our lives, good or evil, happen because they must happen. If my sisters and I can help you, please come to us.”

  “Gracias, Madre.”

  That day, the night, and the following morning were endless for Alondra and Ursula. They arrived at the front entrance of the asylum at the appointed hour and identified themselves, saying that they were expected. The receiving attendant checked the appointment roster, nodded, and, without uttering a word, showed them into Dr. Lozano’s small office.

  The room was filled with filing cabinets and piles of papers. The walls held frames with certificates, awards and diplomas. An electric clock hung crookedly on one of the walls, its cord dangling limply. Alondra stared at it, noting that it was a few minutes past two o’clock. She felt her hands growing clammy, and there was perspiration gathering on the small of her back.