Showing posts with label Rossie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rossie. Show all posts

THE GOOD GIRL

8:00 PM - Posted by Unknown - 0 comments

By Rossie Cortés

I could hear her footsteps on the granite floor. She approached and I trembled in fear. My arms were sore from her last attempt to tame the wild child in me, and I was scared for what would come next. I didn’t do anything but that didn’t seem to matter. I was the kid that got the blame and the punishment. The outlet to her hoarded rage; the stand-in that quenched her thirst for revenge, and she was searching for me.
I could pinpoint her progress through the sound of slammed doors and the shrill voice calling my name.
“Clara! Clara! You better stop playing games if you know what’s good for you,” she screamed with her thick Chilean accent.
But, this was not a game for me, this was survival and her voice urged me to scoot deeper into the closet in an effort to make myself disappear into the dark. I cried in silence, too afraid to even wipe my tears as they traveled down my cheeks and neck. I knew it was going to be bad when she found me, but I could only hope she didn’t.
She was angry and I didn’t know why. But then again, the whys never seem to matter, since reason seldom guided her actions. I wished I could ask for help, but I couldn’t. Nobody would believe me anyway. She was the perfect nana, my babysitter, the would-be-protector turned jailer and tormentor. She was my mother’s right hand, and in my mom’s eyes she could never do wrong. So every time I tried to reach out to my mother, she dismissed me as an ungrateful child with nothing better to do than complain about the nana.
Besides my mother, there was nobody else. Not a father, or brother. No grandparents or doting aunts. It was just me and my mother in a country that was not my own, and Magdalena, the nana.
To the world, she was a dutiful maid, a rarity among Chilean nanas since she spoke some English and –to some extent- understood the expat families she worked for. Because of that, she was regarded as precious and irreplaceable to those who barely understood any Spanish. Like my mother, who deemed her a lifesaver and clung to her as such.
But behind closed doors, Magdalena was nothing but a bitter woman, tortured by jealousy and envy for what could never be. She enjoyed the life her employers provided for her but resented them for the same thing. She raged against her role, and sought vengeance with those who could never complain; the children.


A door banged in the next room. She was closer. I looked around in the dark, but there was nowhere else to run. I felt cold as the blood drained from my face, and my whole body shook in terror. There was nothing to be done, but be brave, so I prayed for a miracle. I prayed with all my heart and with as much devotion as a small child could.
I was engrossed in my prayers until I noticed that I couldn’t hear her anymore. Where was she? Was she in the same room? I didn’t dare to open the door to check, preferring to just wait it out and hope my mom would be home soon. I cowered behind clothes and piles of shoeboxes, expecting the worst.
I had no idea how much time passed until I heard a noise inside the room. Someone just came in and threw something on the bed. I strained to hear, but I could only make out the faint noise of drawers opening and closing. Then I heard it, my mom’s voice.
It was finally safe to come out. I sighed, relieved. My prayers were answered. I was spared at least for that day.
I opened the door just a bit to make sure it was her, but I couldn’t see a thing. Was it really her? I opened a bit more and I tried to peek outside, but the door abruptly opened and I was exposed.
“Well, well. What do I have here?” My mother said amused. “Were you playing hide and seek with Magdalena?” My mother didn’t even notice the fear in my eyes. “I found her!” She shouted into the hallway.
I tried to hide again.
“Don’t be silly Clara. Come out of the closet!” She turned to sit on the bed. I shook my head without making a sound. “Magdalena told me you have been a naughty girl today. What did you do?”
“She made a rabieta when I said no candy before dinner,” said the nana from the door.
“A rabieta, what’s that?”
“You know, kicking and screaming.”
“A tantrum?”
“You should have seen her! She scared me to death with all the yelling and the hitting.”
“Clara! How could you? I thought I told you better.” My eyes started to water. I knew better than to contradict the nana. “Oh sweetie I know you don’t mean to be naughty but you have to stop this. Magdalena has enough things to deal with in this house for you to make trouble.”
My mom hugged me but I felt desperate. There was no escape for me. Not as long as my mom was blind to my pain. Why couldn’t she see my suffering? She was supposed to be there for me, not her! Didn’t I deserve her love? Was I really as bad as the nana said?
“I’m so sorry Magdalena,” said my mom. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”
“That’s not necessary,” said the nana feigning modesty.
“Please take it. I’m so sorry Clara has been so difficult. You deserve a few hours to yourself.”
“If you insist.” Magdalena turned to me with her back to my mom. “See you tomorrow sweetheart. Tomorrow you’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” I looked into her eyes and I saw the smoldering anger behind her apparent calm. Tomorrow I was going to pay.
“The best,” I whispered, my voice quaking while I tried to hold back my tears.
“Don’t worry sweetheart. I still love you.” Magdalena kneeled in front of me and hugged me, wrapping her arms around me with enough force to take my breath away. I understood her message and tried not to grunt in pain.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,“ said Mom as she stood to escort Magdalena out of the room. “See you tomorrow Magdalena.”
I was in the living room watching cartoons when the doorbell rang, probably one of the neighbors, I thought. I stood and peeked outside to see who it was. Maybe it was Tina to ask me to come out and play.
I loved Tina. She was my best friend, my only friend, at least the only who could understand what I was saying, since all the other kids in our neighborhood only spoke Spanish.
Like me, she was not from this country but from the States. I smiled because I didn’t have any idea what “the states” meant but I liked it anyway. We used to play for hours after the nana went home. My mom allowed me to go to her house while she made dinner and watched the news, and I loved it. Tina made me feel normal. She made me smile, and her family made me feel safe.
I loved her mom, and she loved me. Unlike mine, Tina’s mom was always at home, and her father came back home every single day.  Although I was happy for Tina I admit I envied her life.
Maybe the nana was right and I was not such a good girl after all. If I could, I would have traded places with Tina without a thought.  I wanted her mom, her family, her home. I wanted her happiness.
I looked at the entrance but it wasn’t Tina but her mom and she looked grim. She was talking to my mom and neither of them looked happy with the topic. Then Tina’s mom saw me.
“Hi Clara!” She gave me a small smile but my mom blocked her view. I frowned not understanding what happened.
“Clara go watch your cartoons,” my mom said without even looking my way.
“But…”
“Now!”
I didn’t understand but left. Did I do something wrong? I could still hear the murmur of their voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Until I heard my mom’s angry voice.
“How dare you? Don’t you think I would have noticed?”
Then murmurs again followed by the closing of the door.
What had happened? Was my mom angry at Tinas’s mom? Did that mean I couldn’t go there anymore?
My mom came into the room and stopped to look at me. Something was wrong. I could see it in her eyes, just like the day my dad left us. There was the pain; the desperation, and I started to get scared. Before I could ask she kneeled in front of me and looked at me in the eyes. My eyes water seeing myself reflected in her own.
“I can’t believe this,” she murmured almost to herself. “I can’t,” her voice cracked and her chin started to quiver as she tried to hold her emotions in check. She made me stand up in front of her, then turned me so she could see my back. With trembling hands she took my shirt off and gasped at my bruised body.
“Oh God,” I could hear her heart wrenching sobs, my back still turned.  I cried in silence and I vowed my head remembering my earlier prayers. I flinched when her trembling cold hands began to trace every bruise, and then gasped feeling the feather like kisses that followed.
Did she believe me? I dare to hope but kept silent.
Then she turned me into her arms and fiercely hugged me to her.
“My baby. My poor, poor baby. Never again. Never. Again.” She said, her voice raw.


ONE SPECIAL NIGHT

1:45 PM - Posted by Unknown - 0 comments

By Rossie Cortés



Everything around the house gleamed in the light and not a spec of dust could be found anywhere. All wood furniture had been buffed, floors scrubbed and carpets aired, which meant only one thing… the in-laws were coming to Chile.
They came every year about the same time, and each time Sara would bust her back making sure everything was spotless, perfect. Every activity was programmed, every meal carefully planned to ensure her mother-in-law’s happiness during her annual inspection, as Sara used to call it.
This visit was no different and Sara would hate every minute of it, like always.
One of the things Sara liked about being an expatriate was that she no longer had to suffer the awkward visits or criticism from well-intentioned family members. In Chile, it was just Patrick, Diana and her. At least it was until her mother-in-law began to visit.
No matter what she did or what she said, her mother-in-law always looked at her as if Sara was a strange bug she couldn’t discern or classify.  Sara had tried to open herself to Patrick’s mom by being the perfect daughter-in-law without any success; so she settled for making everything beautiful and pleasant during the visits.
That’s why that day Sara spent most of her afternoon preparing all of her mother-in law’s favorite dishes, which included Julia Child’s Beef Bourguignon –that took over six hours to make-- and a torch friendly Baked Alaska for dessert. It hadn’t been an easy task but she’d done it, even with little Diana asking one question after the other.
“Why are you cooking so much?” Diana asked in a singsong tone.
“Because tonight is special.” Sara sighed.
“Is that for grandma and grandpa?” Diana stood on the tip of her toes trying to see over the counter.
“Yes,” Sara said annoyed, pointing at the kitchen table, silently ordering her to sit.
But Diana went and danced around the table instead. “Why are they coming?”
“Because your grandparents love you and Daddy very much so they make the trip to see you.” Sara turned to look at Diana playing with the folded napkins on the kitchen table. “Why don’t you go to my room to watch some Playhouse Disney?”
“Really?” A smile flashed across Diana’s face.  
“Go ahead.” Diana turned and ran excited towards the master bedroom slamming the door behind her. “Maybe now I’ll be able to finish on time.” Sara murmured to herself, stirring the beef broth simmering on the stove.


Hours later Sara was ready to take a bath and change clothes to face the dragon. She walked into her room and stopped in her tracks. “Diana! What have you done?”  Sara ran to the bed, now covered with an array of makeup, jewelry, clothes and toiletries from her drawers.
“I just wanted to get pretty for Grandma and Grandpa,” Diana explained as if that would justify the mess. She picked a mascara container and taking out the brush. “What is this?”
“That’s make up for your eyelashes,” Sara took it away from her but Diana just grabbed something else from the bed.
Diana showed Sara a gel mask for the eyes, which would cover most of her face. “Is this a superhero mask?” Sara gathered the clothes from the bed and stuffed them back in the drawer.
“No, that’s for when mommy is really tired.” Sara grabbed her makeup bag and put everything inside.
“And this?” Diana showed her a female pad in its plastic wrapping. Sara looked at her and froze. “Those are… those are mommy’s special napkins.”
“Special napkins? Can I have one?” Diana asked thrilled by the concept.
“No, those are only for grownups,” Sara snatched the pad from Diana’s curious hands. “I have to change, honey. Why don’t you go change clothes for grandma?”
“Can I use the pretty dress?” Diana’s eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement.
Sara looked at her eager face.  “You want tonight to be special, don’t you? Sure, why not? Go ahead.”
Diana had left the room jumping and singing even before Sara finished saying it.


Patrick and his parents sat in the living room enjoying Diana’s repertoire of stories while waiting for Sara’s finishing touches in the kitchen. Diana told them about her adventures with her new kitten, always mimicking the cat’s silly jumps and faces making everybody hoot.  Everybody but Sara, who was doubting her menu decisions in the kitchen.
“Is everything all right?” Patrick asked softly from the doorway.
“Yes. Yes of course.”
“Okay. Just take it easy. She really doesn’t hate you, you know.” Patrick caressed her back in small circles as if to loosen her tensed muscles. “If only you would give her the chance to see the real Sara. Not this,” he gestured towards the fancy dishes and her conservative clothes. “This is not my fun loving wife. My mother would love my fun loving wife, but she tends to vanish when my mother is around.” He took her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss in her lips.
“Very funny. You keep saying that but…” Sara made a face not believing a word he said.
“Just enjoy our time together. That’s what I do and it seems to work.”
“I can’t! At least not when she’s here.” Sara put her arms around his waist. “She doesn’t like me, and I wish she would.”
“Sara, I’m telling you that’s not true.”
But Sara didn’t want to listen. “Just get them to the table. I’ll bring the bowls in a minute.” He shrugged and left to escort his family to the table.
“Laugh about it. Tell HER to laugh about!” She murmured, convinced his mother would not tolerate her laughter.


“Honey, I think you should come here.”
Sara sighed annoyed. “In a minute! I’m almost finished.”
“Sweetheart? I really think you should come here and see this.”
Something was wrong. She could hear it in Patrick’s voice. She stopped everything and headed out to the dining room.
“What’s wrong?” She looked from Patrick to her in-laws and back, not understanding.
“Have you looked at the table?” He asked, trying to keep a mischievous smile under control.
Sara looked at him then the table. “Of course I have. I set up everything before going back to the kitchen.”
“Are you sure?” He made a gesture toward the table.
The table was beautifully set up with their best china, sparking glasses and a simple but elegant flower centerpiece. Everything was in place except for the linen napkins.
“Oh, no!” The napkins had been replaced, and Sara felt the blood rush to her face.
“Don’t you love it mommy? I did it all by myself,” Diana turned to her grandma to explain. “Those are mommy’s special napkins, only for grownups on special occasions. But she forgot to put them on the table, so I did it!” Diana jumped around her grandparents, happy at her own cleverness.  “Grandma, grandma! Mommy made everything special for you, cause she loves you very much.”
“She does?” Her grandma looked into Diana’ eyes, unable to contain the laugh any longer. “I guess she does! Doesn’t she?” She chuckled, her laugh followed by the others.
Sara still in shock, looked at her in-laws, the female pads opened and spread all over the table and Diana cheerful dancing around the dining room. How did this happen? What was she supposed to do now?
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Sara felt the touch of her mother-in-law’s hand and turned to her smiling face. “Diana is right,” she continued. “Today is a very special day indeed,” she patted Sara’s hand with tenderness. “Everything is beautiful, as always. Thank you.”
Sara looked at her in shock. “You like it?”
“I do. I always have. The one thing that gives me peace about Patrick being in a foreign country is the knowledge that he has you. You’re good for him,” she said looking at Patrick. “I like that.”
Sara looked over at Patrick to find him smiling at her, with a I-told-you-so expression on his face. He had been right and she finally relaxed enough to laugh.