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 Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2007 9:54 pm
▒▒▒▒ A Dance with Lady Luck ▒▒▒▒ "The Five of Disks, sir," Estelle whispered over her table, one hand pointing to the blue and gold card, "Here it represents worry and loss of money." Her brown eyes flashed a strange pleasure as she turned the next card over, "The Hanged Man." She could see her patron getting more uncomfortable as her red and white bracelets slid over the card. "Wh- What does that mean?" He asked nervously, shifting in his seat. Running her finger over the card she replied, "It refers sir, to the present situation, suffering." She paused, "Might I ask you a question sir?" "What?" he said, seeming even more nervous now. "Have you.." she trailed off, coming back with a little snap, "Have you been gambling sir? Have you gambled away something important." With this, he stiffened up noticeably. With a smile she turned over the next card. "The Emperor. Interesting, it shows what is standing in your way." He seemed confused, "What does that mean?" "It means sir, that your problem has been caused by your own ambition, am I right?" He didn't respond, instead turning to leave. Before he reached the curtained door she drew him back by turning the next card. "Aah.. The Ace of Swords." At the mention of this name that sounded better than the previous, he sat back down. "The Ace of Swords?" She flipped the card up to show him, holding it carefully in her slim fingers, "This is what you desire, great power, the rush." The intense look of concentration he showed her indicated that she was right. The next card turned that look of concentration into one of horror. "The moon," she murmured, "It shows what your current situation is based on. Falsity, deception. Have you lied to your wife sir?" His eyes wided, "Ho- How did you know I was married?" She gestured to the collar of his shirt, "Starched, no man does that himself." While he was still mystified she glanced down at his left hand. Nothing. "Sir, did you gamble away your wedding ring?" With this he broke a sweat, "I- I didn't mean to. I'd just been on a losing streak and I had a good starting hand and-" "Hush now," she said, interrupting him as she touched the next card, "The spirits still have much to tell." The next card showed nothing of interest, only that which had already been deciphered. But the seventh card, that caught her interest. "The Four of Swords," she told him, tapping the center of the design, "It shows the future, peace after war. Perhaps you should tell your wife sir." Anxiously, he wiped his hands on his pants, "What about the rest?" Shaking her head, she continued, some people didn't know when to quit, "The Three of Disks, your future environment. It shows business, gain. Are you an executive sir?" He shook his head, "I- I was up for a promotion but I haven't heard about it yet." "Aah," she cooed, tapping her finger on the next card, "Are you sure you want to go on?" He nodded furiously. At sight of the next, she froze. "What is it?" he asked desperately, wondering what was so frightening with the card. "It.." she responded, "It's the Three of Swords, the way people will react to you in your new environment." "Yeah? Go on," he prodded, staring down at the design that didn't seem all that ominous. "It represents seperation, faithlessness in promises." With the explanation he got very quiet. Her hand hovered over the next card, waiting for him to recover. Finally, he quietly said, "Go on." Flipping the next over, she cringed, "The Ten of Swords, the challenge. It means failure." Silence. There was only one more card left, and with a slightly shaking hand, she turned it over. With this one, she smiled, "The Six of Cups, the outcome. It means the beginning of happiness and success." This seemed to cheer him up a fair bit, but he still looked uneasy. He thanked her quietly and started to walk out, only stopped when she broke the silence. "Sir, I think you should tell your wife." He raised his hand in response, his shoulders sagging, and then exited.
After a few more equally depressing patrons Estelle was done for the night. She packed up her deck and put out her candles, saying a soft prayer before she stepped out into the moonlit streets. The lights from the casino were her north star as she made her way around the fountain to the small building that served as her home and the meeting place for her equally small congregation. As she entered the first floor door she noticed to Mrs. Hinoe, one of the older worshippers. The woman was kneeling at the front by the altar, where a small stick of incense was burning down to its end. "You're out late Nasheem," she said, laying her hand on the woman's shoulder. "Oh, Estelle, I didn't hear you come in," she said softly, turning to look at her. "I was just praying for my husband," As she spoke her glazed eyes drifted over Estelle's shoulder and vaguely focused on the bare wall, "You know he starts his chemotherapy tommorow morning." Estelle nodded, squeezing Nasheem's shoulder to assure her, "I'll have a vigil up for him by noon." Nasheem nodded and got to her feet with a little assistance, soon hobbling out into the night air. "You be careful, Estelle called to her, latching the door once Nasheem had safely turned the corner home.
After putting out the candles surrounding the altar and disposing of used up incense, Estelle was finally done with her duties for the night. Her earliest prayer session wasn't until 10am, so the lateness of her arrival home wasn't really a problem. Flicking the room lights off, she unlocked the door to the stairwell and finally headed up to her apartment. As soon as she was inside she dropped her bag down beside the door, making her way slowly to the kitchen. A pot of cold orange tea awaited her on the stove, and within a few minutes she had heated it to a tolerable temperature. After pouring herself a cup she ventured into her room and changed out of her santera uniform into a soft grey pajama set. Settling herself on the couch, she exhaled slowly. Another day, another few dollars. Tommorow, she might just visit the casino herself. If it was in the cards.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2007 1:14 am
▒▒▒▒ A String of Odd Occurances ▒▒▒▒ Beep Beep Beep. Beep Beeeeep. Estelle groaned as she rolled over in bed, lifting her pillow off her head to check what time the alarm had decided to go off. 7:40am. Mm. She could still hit the snooze once or twice. Her first prayer session wasn't until... 7:45. Crap. She didn't do well when she was rushed. Started by the time she smacked the clock and rolled out onto the floor, taking only a few seconds to untangle herself from her quilt cocoon. As she scurried to quickly shower and don her white and red uniform she could already hear people moving around downstairs. That was kind of odd, she distinctly remembered locking the door last night. As she finally descended the stairs struggling to push her large hoop earrings into place she managed to pick up a bit of the conversation. "Wonder...came from?" "...Don't know...door was open..." She frowned, pausing on the stairs before she opened the door. Apparently there was something out of place, but what exactly it was worried her. Some people didn't take too kindly to her congregation, and all she could hope was that it wasn't the work of vandals. She'd already had to spend a good amount of time washing dried eggs off of her front door. As soon as she opened the door she was surrounded by her congregation, mostly the middle aged group that came to pray before they went to work. "Sister Estelle!" One of the men called, who she remembered shared the same name as her late brother, Raphael. He seemed to have something important to say, so she made her way to him through the crowd, anxiously wringing her beads in her hands. "Yes my son," she said diminutively, though the look in her eyes was anything but. "Someone has been in the temple, they left a note. On, on the altar," he said quickly, looking as if he thought he would be in trouble for it. She nodded slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. She new none of the congregation would have touched the note, thinking it to be something evil for breaking in, but still, the thought worried her. Waving her hand, she turned to face the group, showing a reassuring smile, "Go to your prayers, I will attend to this. There's nothing to worry about." Strong words for someone whose belief in them was so shaky. As the people scurried about to light their candles and say their prayers she slowly made her way toward the altar, eyeing the carefully folded note. Upon reaching it she simply picked it up and unfolded it, as if there was nothing strange at all. It read like a business memo, telling her of a special opportunity and a request to visit somewhere called the Liberty Center. For some reason the name seemed familiar, but she couldn't place why. The post script on the note however, was a bit more cryptic. It said simply, Look behind the building. Great. Then it was a prank. Most likely some testament to animal rights, they were always dogging her practicioners. While the people were entertained with their own business she slipped out the door and carefully crept around the building. All that was in the back was her small garden and a few cages with chickens, so she wasn't really sure what she was expecting, but what greeted her when she opened the gate was certainly not it. In the center of her garden patch, settled haphazardly on top of her tomato plants, was what appeared to be a giant cabbage. And on top of it was another note in the same handwriting, reading only, Take good care of it. Well, that was certainly... Something. Perhaps she would pay a visit to this Liberty Center afterall, they might have a few answers as to exactly what was going on.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2007 11:51 pm
▒▒▒▒ Responsibility with a Touch of Suspicion ▒▒▒▒ Due to the forecast of cold rain and wind, Estelle had opted to cover her garden for the night, to protect the plants from the frost. Unfortunately, her tarp didn't quite fit over the giant cabbage. And unfortunately for the biological mass, she couldn't carry it all the way up to her apartment on her own. At least, not without something more solid to hold onto. After staring at the cabbage for a few minutes she came up with a solution. A temporary one at least. Scolding her chickens quietly as they squabbled in their cages she removed an old wooden crate from beside them. It was filled with a layer of straw, most of which had hardened on after the rain. Either way, it was easy to carry and just about the right size for the cabbage. With a little maneuvering she managed to wedge the cabbage in. Carrying the crate upstairs proved to be more difficult than she had thought, but after some bumps and bruises the task was finally complete. "So... What exactly are you?" she questioned, laying her head on the table so that she was level with the crated cabbage. "Who am I kidding, you can't talk." She'd made a little visit to the Liberty Center, but she hadn't really learned much. Except that this was definately something she should take care of. But what exactly did one do to take care of a giant cabbage? Maybe she should replant it. No, it seemed to be doing alright the way it was. It hadn't been rooted in the garden afterall. And even if it did need that she could always mix a little fertilizer in with the straw, that muck would surely hold enough water for it. Estelle frowned, poking gingerly at some of the top leaves. A few of them were edged in a yellow-brown with a few scattered holes, which didn't seem quite right. It seemed the silk worms had gotten at it. Well, that was simple enough to fix. She rose from the table and wandered to the kitchen to find her solution. Fortunately, it was in the second drawer she checked. Pruning shears. Maybe not the most delicate solution, but it would work. "This might hurt just a little bit," she warned, not realizing how silly that sounded, and proceeded to carefully clip the damaged edges off. Oncfe the cabbage was free of them, it seemed distinctly healthier to her. This little bit of maintenance seemed to set off a switch in her head, for soon she was not only watering it and carefully changing the layer of straw muck, but setting up a sun lamp. By the time she was finished the kitchen table looked more like a mad scientists workspace. Standing back with her hands on her hips, she smiled, "There's just one thing missing." That one thing, it happened, was something of her own. Dipping her head she removed one of her red and white beaded necklaces, placing it carefully over the cabbage, "There, all you needed was a little bit of color." And looks aside, a tribute to Chango would keep it safe. "Now..." she trailed, "What should I call you? How about... Poca! Yes, that will work just fine." Poca, little one. Well, maybe she was cracking a little bit.
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Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2007 7:33 pm
▒▒▒▒ A Little Bit of Liveliness ▒▒▒▒ At roughly 10:00am this morning during a midweek service Estelle heard noises coming from the apartment upstairs. Suspecting a burglar she put the service on hold and went upstairs in the company of two of the male congregationers. But what they found was no burglar. The wooden box she had left on the table was in pieces, and in its place sat a small child with a bright orange forelock, grinning sheepishly as she ground her finger against the remaining layer of straw. The flurry of garbled Spanish and hails that followed suggested this was a child of miracles, and she said nothing to the contrary, remaining on the table as the people inspected her. They asked the child its name, but got no response. Estelle took a deep breath, standing at the head of the table, and soon got an idea. "Manuel," she said, "That's what I'll call you." The child's smile widened and she flicked her puff-ended tail, then responded with, "Manuel-ah" her voice smoothly indicating that there was a mistake in gender. Not that one could have expected Estelle to know the gender of a cabbage. Estelle's expression calmed a bit, "Manuela then." And so Manuela was born.
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Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2007 9:42 pm
▒▒▒▒ The Spirit of Home ▒▒▒▒ The arrival of a new child brought a sense of lively celebration to the community. It was customary to celebrate the child and her family, but in truth she already considered the entire congregation her family. Being for the most part an aging group of former refugees, they had no trouble confirming her beliefs and quickly instilling in her a strong sense of loyalty.
The beating of the steel drums and the repeating patter pat of the home crafted shakers filled the church with noise as people crowded to fill every spot. Women stood along tables at the sides, gossiping amongst themselves as they stirred steaming pots of seafood jambalaya and spicy meat dishes. Estelle stood near the front of the room, thundering out a fierce beat on an antique hand drum slung on her hip, dancing as she did. The rhythm and soul of the calypso echoed in the memories of the older people and lit a bright fire in the eyes of the young. Manuela, now seeming anything but shy, clapped her hands to the beat as she danced in a small circle of other children. In the heartfelt celebration there was no chance even of hearing yourself think, but that was part of the fun. Many of the elderly rocked in their seats, eyes closed dreamily as they mouthed the words to the songs. Beads and metal charms added to the dreams as they sent tiny rays of light dancing across the walls. For many it was like being back in the home of their childhood. For others it was simply a fun mini Carnival. For Manuela it was a glimpse at how her mother believed life should be celebrated.
The celebration gradually wound down until the point in the day where the family would usually come forward, thank the people for showing up, and officially introduce the child. Since it was only Estelle, things went a bit differently. Manuela had been taken upstairs to prepare with the older women, and in her absence Estelle took to the stage. A piece of her hair had fallen loose from her scarf, and in the act of fruitlessly pushing it back up she further humbled herself in the eyes of the community. She refused the singer's microphone politely, hardly feeling it necessary for her to be heard over the now silent group. "This child," she started, "dropped into our laps by God, truly must be here for some high purpose. The bright forelock of her hair suggests that she may be very intelligent, and we as a community must nurture this. We can only hope to bring her up more privileged than many of us have been in our lives, and try to instill in her the morals that our parents gave to us." This was a standard introduction for a new child, altered slightly to suit her special circumstances. Until the introduction she did not truly have a surname, and it was considered odd to not bear the name of your father. But as it neared the part of the ceremony in which she would be introduced by her full name, a question arose in the crowd. Who was her father? No one knew. As a suspected child of the gods did she even have a mother? Well surely she considered Estelle a mother; perhaps she would bear that woman's name? Estelle herself wasn't sure of this, but figured that the decision would come to her when the time did.
Manuela, now bathed in spiced water and clothed in a white linen gown, stood at the side of the stage behind a small curtain. People were still fussing around her, marking her face for certain blessings as she stood with her eyes closed tight to avoid getting any of the muck in them. She stepped forward when she was urged, and fumbled out onto the stage when Estelle put a hand out for her. "I'd like to introduce," said Estelle, her eyes on the girl now beside her, "My daughter, Manuela Ceballos-Escalera." A whisper flew through the crowd but was silenced once again as she removed a red and white beaded necklace, a tribute to Chango, from the table behind her and held it up. "I place this on that very odd thing, and look what a beautiful child it gave me. I should count myself lucky, it is truly a blessing." She knelt down beside the girl, wrapping the decoration loosely around her hands, "Please," she said, "I would be honored if from now on your would call me Mama Estelle." Manuela simply nodded, then rocked up onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss on her new Mama's forehead. The crowd erupted in a mix of laughter and cheering. After this, the celebrations continued, cheerful calypso blasting out well into the night.
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Posted: Thu May 10, 2007 2:47 pm
▒▒▒▒ New Experiences ▒▒▒▒ "Come darling," Estelle said softly, taking Manuela by the hand. The girl resisted momentarily, but followed her mother down the rows of the open market. The sights and smells of the downtown alleys were new to her, but she wasn't afraid of them. Spotting a person toting bottles of oils and herbs Manuela tugged on her mother's dress, pointing her free hand toward the man. "Excuse me," Estelle called after the man, jogging to catch up with him. "A beautiful morning Sister Escalera," he said, showing a warm smile. "Oh, Ernesto," she laughed, "I didn't recognize you." He waved his hand, "Do not worry," then looked to Manuela, "And who is this one?" Manuela stepped bravely in front of her mother's legs, looking up at the two of them with bright eyes. Estelle placed her hands on Manuela's shoulders, nodding to the man, "This is my daughter, the one I told you about." "Ah, Manuela," he responded, "She's even more beautiful than you described." He thought for a moment before shifting his bag of oils to his side, "Oh, but you didn't come to chat today, did you? What are you looking for?" Estelle drew her hands through the curls in Manuela's hair, "I was wondering if you had any pumpkin oil? Things seem to slide off her hair like water on a duck's wings." He laughed, and then began to rummage through the pack. "I may just have some pumpkin spice," he told her, then lifted out a small triangular bottle, "Here we are." Estelle took the bottle gingerly, tucking it into her own pack before asking, "How much do I owe you?" "No no, I won't accept your money Sister, not after how you helped my son when the saints wanted to take him from us." Estelle blushed, then took the man's free hand, pressing a small roll of bills into it, "At least take this." He nodded silently, and then added as they started to walk away, "Thank you Sister."
While waiting for the first of the buses that would take them home Manuela tugged on her mother's arm, waiting for the woman to turn to her before she spoke. "Why didn't he want the money?" she asked, the look in her eyes showing that she was truly confused. "Well, he comes from a very well respected family back in Cuba, but when he came here he made a lost of mistakes," she explained, "He doesn't like to take money, even when it's owed to him." She sighed, "Those bills will likely end up in the collection plate this weekend." Manuela seemed to think about something before she nodded. The first bus ride was a quiet one, with Manuela spending much of the time looking out the window at the neighborhoods they went through. When the reached the stop for the second bus though, she had something to say. In a barely audible voice she asked, "Is he poor?" Estelle took a deep breath, turning a bit of a sympathetic look toward the rundown buildings in the area, "Well, yes baby. But he has a big family to support." For a short while Manuela seemed to accept this as an answer. "Momma," she said, "Are we poor?" That was a loaded question. She didn't want the child to be spoiled, but she also didn't want her to worry about money all the time like she had when she was a child. "No baby," she told her, "We aren't poor. We have a home and food, and most of all we have each other." After this, Manuela said nothing more.
A few hours after leaving the market they arrived home and Estelle carried Manuela upstairs. The child stirred as they passed over the threshold but Estelle simply patted her on the back to calm her. It was far too late to start on their normal nightly routine.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 7:26 pm
▒▒▒▒ Family Matters ▒▒▒▒ The morning after their little excursion the two rose with the sun. Estelle had fallen asleep with Manuela cradled in her arms, and the little girl had woken her with a little whine. Since they had forgone their evening routine they hadn't had any real supper. While Manuela slowly woke up Estelle busied herself in the kitchen. Within just a few moments there was crackling bacon in the pan and carefully shaped eggs lined up beside it. As Manuela toddled into the kitchen to investigate two pieces of toast popped up out of the old toaster, startling her.
"Yeep!" she shouted, going into a crouch position for only a few seconds before popping back up herself, getting up on her tiptoes to peer at the ominous toast eater on the counter.
With a little more confidence than she'd had in public she tugged on her mother's skirt and pointed to the beast, saying in a worried tone, "It burped."
Estelle laughed, patting the girl on the head before going to exchange the toasted pieces with new ones, "No baby, just letting me know that it finished its job."
"Oh," Manuela responded, watching in awe as her mother extracted the food from the beast.
Once the new bread was in and the lever pushed down Estelle returned to the rest of the meal. Manuela meanwhile remained by the beast, eyes barely peeping over the countertop as her tail twitched in anticipation. A few minutes passed as Estelle slid the eggs carefully onto a plate, managing to not break a yolk. The toaster popped up again, now startling the distracted Manuela so badly that she stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the first thing she could reach. Unfortunately for her, the first thing she grabbed falling onto her butt was a bag of flour. The bag hit the ground at about the same time she did, exploding when it hit the tile. When the dust settled it revealed a powder coated girl and a mother with laughing eyes. Manuela didn't seem bothered by the little tumble, but her coating seemed to confuse her.
Turning away from her for a moment to serve the bacon and turn off the stove, Estelle chuckled, "Which first, your bath or breakfast?"
Manuela scrunched up her nose at the thought of a bath. "Food!" she shouted, scrambling to her place at the small kitchen table that served for casual meals.
"Not so fast," Estelle told her, catching her under the armpits to bring her back to the already messy tile, "I can wash the floors but not the cushions." Well, she could but it would be difficult. Instead she saved herself the trouble by taking a roll of plastic wrap and draping it over the chair before allowing the girl to sit down. "There," she said, patting the protected chair before going to divide the food between their plates. She set the two down, reminding Manuela to use her cutlery with a gentle tap on the back of the hand.
The girl obliged, picking up her fork up clumsily as Estelle poured glasses of orange juice for both of them. With that last task done she sat down across from Manuela, breaking her toast up into squares before she picked up her fork. Manuela watched her for a moment, then set her fork down to do the same thing. Estelle smiled at this, carefully opening the still-gooey yolk of her egg to dip the toast in. Again Manuela copied her, though admittedly hers was a good bit messier. The rest of the meal went much the same, up until the time came to clear the dishes. This job was solely Estelle's, and as soon as her food was gone Estelle got to her feet to play with her toys in the living room. It seemed the impending bath had slipped her mind, though the flour was definitely still there.
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Posted: Wed May 16, 2007 2:20 pm
▒▒▒▒ Bath Time ▒▒▒▒ "Hold still darling," Estelle said calmly, attempting to tug Manuela's tunic up over her head.
"No," Manuela said playfully, wriggling despite the fact that she had her arms held up. With a little more persuading the shirt came off, coming to rest with her other clothes on the floor. "No bath," she said, turning her eyes onto Estelle.
"Yes, bath," Estelle corrected, pinning up her weighty skirts, "We need to get that flour off of you." She reached for Manuela to pull her to her chest, and though she did not resist she still didn't seem pleased.
"But I don't like it," Manuela finally whined, earning a chuckle from her mother. The humor in it was invisible to her, but the momentary confusion didn't stop her crusade against the bath, "It's cold."
"Well then I'll warm the water up," Estelle offered, not looking at her daughter as she ran the bath and filled it to the brim with sky blue bubbles.
"Then it's hot," Manuela argued, frowning and wrinkling her nose at the scent that wafted from the tub.
"I'll tell you what," Estelle proposed, "How about you get in the tub and I'll tell you a story. All you have to do is get in the bath for me." Moreover, she knew exactly what story to tell. It was one of the ones that her mother used to tell her when she was a girl, one that she was sure the intuitive toddler would like.
Manuela seemed to contemplate this for a few moments, before finally giving in and climbing into the warm bubbly water. "Tell me a story then," she said, wanting to make sure her mother was good on the deal before she started to wash.
Estelle laughed, "Patience Manny, patience is a virtue." Deciding not to make the girl wait any longer lest she decide to rebel again, Estelle started her tale. "There was once a young girl that lived with her black father and her old mother. She was beautiful, and they lived in a picturesque hut near the lagoon in Sagua la Grande. Her name was Ascension, but her parents lovingly called her Sencion. Her skin was a rich coffee brown, but her facial features told of her mixed heritage. Because of her long silky black hair she earned the nickname "Indian Girl"."
At this point, Manuela was already entranced, hardly noticing as her mother gently worked soothing oils through her tightly curled hair.
"More than one man had fallen in love with her beauty," she continued, "But she was a vain arrogant girl. There was one man that her parents despised, and the more her parents disliked him the more they tried to be together. The two used to meet by the lagoon, spending hours and hours staring into each other’s eyes and telling of their love. One after noon Sencion's mother discovered the two. "How can you disobey your poor mother like this?" She said in desperation, scaring the poor boy away. "Mamaita, you have humiliated me in front of my boyfriend!" Sencion shouted, "You won't do it again!" And without thinking she slapped her mother hard across the face."
The small girl stared up from her bath, now soapy and near clean of the flour, amazed by how well her mother could weave a story together.
Estelle now scrubbed lightly at the child's back, but kept her eyes locked with Manny as she went on with her tale. "And Sencion's mother," she said, her voice now hushed, "She started to cry and shouted, "Wretched child! God will punish you." As she spoke those words, the strangest thing happened. Sencion's hand stuck to her mother's cheek! For days Sencion fretted and tried to free the hand, but to no avail. Her father called a renowned medicine man. He tried everything from prayers to potions, but eventually came to a conclusion. "There is no other way," he told them, "The hand must be cut off." All through the painful operation Sencion never said a word to complain. And as soon as it was through and her arm wrapped in the medicine man's gauze she got to her feet and walked into the lagoon, not stopping until she disappeared under the murky waters. Even after her disappearance, her hand remained stuck to her mother's face, and stayed there until long after the old woman died. Legend says that every Friday of the full moon Sencion rises from the lagoon, more beautiful than ever. Her arms are raised to the sky, as if begging God's forgiveness. And at the end of her arm is the stump, still wrapped in the medicine man's gauze from that fateful day." With that, she also finished her scrubbing, now scooping water over Manny's head to rinse the girl's hair one more time.
Manuela seemed to think for a few minutes, even obeying Estelle when she was told to tip her head back. That was an interesting story, and kind of scary. Nevertheless, it told something good. "Momma," she said after a time, "I won't ever hit you like that."
Estelle smiled, heart warmed by the fact that even so young Manny seemed to have good intentions, "I know you won't baby. Now come on, your bath is over." She stood and took up a towel, which Manuela quickly grabbed as she hoisted herself out of the water. Now that wasn't so bad.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 7:01 pm
▒▒▒▒ Moving on Up ▒▒▒▒ After recieving a gift of coral jewlery Manuela took a step forward in her development. She began to read from her mother's books, giving the blessing of a healthy birth to the woman who made the jewelry for her. A few days later when the baby was born she went to visit him. Because of her percieved help, the woman asked her to name the baby. Santos, the holy one. She's grown up so much.
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Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2007 6:24 pm
▒▒▒▒ Personal Decoration ▒▒▒▒ "Is it going to hurt mama?" Manuela asked, swinging her feet off the edge of her stool. She was a little nervous, but she trusted her mother not to let anything bad happen to her. "Just a little baby," Estelle admitted, "And only for a minute. Then I promise we'll go shopping for you."
The cheerful teenager in front of them pulled on a pair of gloves as they talked, hesitating only a moment before she picked up the ominous looking piercing gun. "Ok," she said with an upbeat note to her voice, "Just turn your head to the side and bite down on that teddy bear if you need to. We're going to do one at a time." Manny forced a smile and gripped the worn teddy, doing as she was told. The girl marked an x on her left ear and lined up the gun. "Ok, now just count to three with me," she told Manny," One. Two. Pop. Manny winced as the stud was pushed through her ear, and started to whimper as the girl moved the gun away to check that the backing was secured.
Estelle went to her side the second she saw tears welling up in Manny's eyes, wrapping one arm tight around her shoulders. "Baby, baby, it's over now, stop your tears," she told the child in a singsong voice. Manny sniffled, pulling closer to her mother, "It hurts. I don't want the other one." "But baby," Estelle argued, "You look silly with just one ear." The child shook her head, "No, no no no. I only want this one." Estelle looked to the teenager for advice but the girl only shrugged and went about cleaning the gun. Finally, she simply shrugged and hugged Manny tight, "Alright baby, just the one then. But don't you complain about looking silly."
Later on, while Manuela was sifting through the baskets of faux fur purses and fashion jewelry Estelle picked out a special present, for when the stud could be exchanged for something else. If the girl would only stand for one earring, then it would be something beautiful. With a little smile she tucked the box containing her present away, hoping that the day would not cause the child any more frustration.
The present was a smooth cylinder of crystal wrapped in silver wire, and from the center emanated a faint prismatic light. It was almost as if it contained a guardian spirit, an illusion which Estelle herself was intent on enhancing.
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Posted: Fri Aug 03, 2007 8:57 pm
▒▒▒▒ A Different Kind of Medicine - Part One ▒▒▒▒ "Thank you child," Mrs. Darvos said quietly, wringing her hands as she turned away from the altar and Estelle. It was interesting, she'd been in almost daily for prayer with the santera, but never once had she mentioned what was troubling her. Manuela had watched her with keen interest, noting the nervous ticks that many of the congregation shared. She wrung her hands for one, though she seemed to do so only in the past week, and she tensed up her back when she prayed. It was funny how she noticed these things when she had trouble with things like simple mathematics, but it was conditioning. Estelle had unknowingly trained her to know when someone had a deeper problem than they were sharing. Normally she would simply keep her concerns to herself and ask Mama Estelle about it later, but something about Mrs. Darvos really worried her. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, maybe it was the way she looked down whenever someone spoke to her. Whatever it was, something wasn't right.
Manny checked to make sure Mama Estelle was occupied, and seeing her talking with an older man she slipped away, following after Mrs. Darvos. The elderly woman slipped out the door and started down the sidewalk toward the city, occasionally mumbling to herself as she went. Manuela hadn't been out this late by herself before, but she had wanted to speak to Mrs. Darvos alone, out of earshot of the others. Now was her chance.
"Ma'am," she called, jogging up to her side, "Ma'am, Sister Darvos, please wait."
This seemed to catch her attention and she stopped, clutching one hand to her chest. "Lord child," she said breathlessly as Manny reached her, "You scared me half to death."
Manuela quickly bowed her head, "I'm sorry Sister Darvos, I just wanted to talk to you."
Mrs. Darvos wrung her hands, looking at Manuela expectantly, "Well, what is it child? Get on with it."
Manny nodded, "Something wrong, is someone sick?"
"That is none of your business child," she snapped.
"I just want to help. I won't tell Mama Estelle, I promise," Manny pleaded.
"Why do you care so much?" Mrs. Darvos said, sounding skeptical.
"Because, I haven't heard you play anything since you started wringing your hands," she explained.
"Ah... You pay that much attention to an old woman like me?"
"Your music was beautiful, why don't you play anymore? Are you sad?"
"No child, not sad. Broken is all."
"How did you break?"
"My hands, child. They don't work like they used to," the old woman offered, holding the shriveled limbs out, "I have pains whenever I try to play."
Manny frowned, reaching to feel the hands. As soon as she touched them it felt as if she were glued there, unable to remove her hand from Sister Darvos'. "It hurts," she screeched, feeling an instense spike of pain shooting up the backs of her hand and down through the bones in her arm. She tried to pull away, finding that movement only caused more pain. It felt like needles were being shoved out from under her skin, snapping tendons and slicing through muscle. Then suddenly her hand wrenched free, falling limp at her side. The sharp pain was gone, but a beating, aching one had replaced it.
Tears had welled up in her eyes, and she was now standing back under the streetlight, looking up at Sister Darvos like she was some kind of monster.
Sister Darvos said nothing, and instead just stared down at her hands, flexing the fingers and mimicing the motion of tapping piano keys. Finally, after a long silence, she spoke up. "The pain... It's gone."
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 5:39 pm
▒▒▒▒ A Different Kind of Medicine - Part Two ▒▒▒▒ Eyes still wide, Manuela turned and sprinted back to the church, retreating up to their apartment. She latched the door and closed the windows, then curled up on the couch under a knitted throw. That didn't happen. But the aching in her hand told her it had. So what was that? Maybe Sister Darvos had started practicing voodoo, but then what had she done to anger her? Nothing came to mind, and the idea was silly even if there was a reason. Sister Darvos was a good woman, she would never use religion against another person. Nearly half an hour passed as she hid on the couch, and the only audible noise was the furnace as it kicked on with a klunk.
Suddenly a pounding on the door jarred her from her thought. "Who is it?" she asked shakily, pulling the blanket up over her head.
"Poca, open the door," Estelle called from the other side, "Sister Darvos and I need to talk to you."
"She can talk from out there, ella es una bruja sucia!" Manuela screamed, pulling the blanket tight.
"Manuela, you know better than to talk to an elder like that," Estelle hissed, sounding taken aback.
"Sister Estelle," Mrs. Darvos said quietly, "She has reasons." Manuela could hear the shuffle of footsteps as Estelle back down the stairs to allow Sister Darvos to get closer to the door. "Manuela, something happened, me and you both know that. Si me dejas adentro podemos descubrir cuáles era."
Manuela slipped her head out from under the blanket, eyes searching the room for a reason not to let them in. Sister Darvos was trying to be nice, maybe she was going to apologize. Well, nothing bad could happen with Mama Estelle there, right? Hesitantly she got up from the couch and went to unlock the door, hearing the two women talking quietly on the other side as she clicked it open.
Estelle came in first, grabbing Manuela tight around the shoulders. Sister Darvos slipped in behind her, settling on the couch. "Manuela," Sister Darvos said sternly, "What did you do outside?"
What? Manuela scrunched up her nose, "You put a spell on me."
Estelle squeezed Manuela's shoulder, nearly hissing, "Don't say things like that. You are not ignorant."
Sister Darvos waved the comment away, "She's just a child, she has a gift. My arthritis is gone."
Manuela blinked and looked up at Estelle, who seemed concerened. "What is she talking about?" She asked quietly.
"She says you made her pain go away. Her hands," Estelle explained, smoothing down the child's hair, "And we just want to know how."
"But I didn't do anything," Manuela insisted, clenching her hands into fists, "All I did was touch her hands."
Estelle looked from Manuela to Mrs. Darvos and back, unsure of the situation. "Manuela," she started, "Could you try it again, just to show me?"
Maneula hesitated, but seeing Mrs. Darvos hold her arms out, wrists upturned, she nodded. "Okay," she agreed, "But just once." Reluctantly she reached forward and touched the woman's hands. This time though, it wasn't as dramatic, and the only pain she felt was a slight aching up the bones in her arms. She held there until Estelle nodded, then quickly retracted her hands. "Is that ok?" she asked.
Mrs. Darvos nodded, then got up to speak to Estelle. What exactly was going on?
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2007 6:32 pm
▒▒▒▒ Changes ▒▒▒▒ "Mama Estelle?" Manuela called into the apartment, waiting until she was sure she was alone to step through the door. A white plastic bag hung from her arm, decorated with the smile logo of the local pharmacy. Her mother had gone to pray over a sick child, and had left her alone in the house. She closed the door quietly, turning the lock before she went into the kitchen. Knowing she was alone she was a little more comfortable, flicking on the radio as she dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table. Makeup and hair products tumbled out over the glass surface, settling as Manny made herself comfortable on the couch. The top 40 was playing on the radio as she sang along, fiddling to unwrap her prizes. Since her experience with Mrs. Darvos she had begun offering her pain relief service to other parishioners, and had made a good bit of money in it. Estelle didn't entirely approve, but tolerated it as long as she only took what the people could offer, nothing more.
Manny picked a ceramic straightener up out of the pile, giddily tugging the item out of its packaging. The instructions didn't make a whole lot of sense, but she quickly found that if she dampened her hair just a little bit before pressing it, it wouldn't smell burnt. Time seemed to fly by as she fiddled with various styles, eventually finding that the straightener could first make her hair long and smooth, and then just a little curl would give it a nice bounce. In her distraction she managed to fill her hair with all sorts of products and scatter wrappers all around the living room. "What a pretty girl you are," she told herself as she ran through the house to her room where her closet doors stood open. Her hair was now worked into a wavy style reminiscent of those she had seen on her MTV idols, soft and glossy. She started to pick up her phone and dial Riley's number, but something stopped her. A door closed downstairs and she yelped, rushing to the window. A black van sat on the curb outside the church, one she recognized as the transport of the local food bank. She waited for a few minutes, then she heard a door again and saw two people leaving carrying empty crates. Oh, they had just been making a delivery. She let her breath out, giggling a bit at her fear. Mama Estelle wouldn't really be mad at the way she had spent her money, just a little disappointed. At any rate she needed to clean the house up before she got home.
Manny picked a range of denim and black items from her closet, laying them out on her bed alongside the makeup she had gotten. The hair products were now safely tucked away and she had cleaned up the living room, but she was still a little nervous. There was no telling when Mama Estelle would get home, or how she would respond to her daughter's new makeover. Sure, she would accept it, she always accepted things. It was more a question of whether or not she would be disapppointed in Manuela. See, Estelle had a strange way about her. She never truly confronted a problem, instead dancing around it until it was finally corrected. Shaking off her worry Manny picked up a black eyeliner pencil, pushing her hair out of her face to start a thick dark line underneath her bright eyes. Mama would love it, surely. She'd be crazy not to.
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Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2007 5:43 pm
▒▒▒▒ Neighborhood Redevelopment ▒▒▒▒ The chicken crates rattled against the chain-link fence, accompanied by a chorus of squawks and squabbles. Manny tapped the end of the broom against the cages. "Hush up, it's just a truck," she told them frustrated, making a face as she returned to her sweeping. Since construction had begun on the vacant lot the neighborhood had become accustomed to a smoky covering of red dust. The week had been windy, the sort of overcast droll that heralded a harsh winter, and most of the dust had been whipped up onto the buildings themselves. It went unnoticed on the apartments, bricked in the same dingy hue, but the church was a different story. The once white stucco had been painted a dingy pink-orange, and it had been Manuela's job to see to its cleaning. Estelle was inside leading a refugee support group and the young girl was growing bored.
"Hey Manuela, me and Rachelle were going to go climb the gravel mountain," a boy in a worn baseball jersey chirped, standing tiptoed at the gate of the fence. His name was Dominic, Estelle had told her he was the son of one of the local supers, and because of that not a lot of the kids were allowed to hang out with him. Manny set her broom down beside the door, peering in the side window to make sure Mama Estelle was still busy. "You coming?" he called from the fence. "Yeah," she answered cheerfully, hanging her apron up on the door handle. She checked her pockets quickly to make sure she had her house key, and then pushed her way through the gate.
The construction equipment rumbled loudly as they went, sending shockwaves though could be felt through the cracked sidewalk. Rachelle was already waiting for them, tying her braids back in a bandana while. Manuela noted all the bits of dirt drifting through the air and followed suit, squishing her curls into a tightly wrapped ball. A bulldozer was pushing rubble from the trees and makeshift kickball field, laden with the things that had been left there before the land had been sold. "Hey, lookit this!" Dominic shouted as Manny and Rachelle ascended the pile away from him. They turned back to find he was waving a rusty silver tube, about the size around of a basketball. Rachelle shrugged to Manny, beginning to skip down toward him, "Could be cool."
Dominic began to hit the object against the ground as the girls got close, trying to break the seal of grime on it's clasp. With a little kick from Rachelle the thing came open, spilling letters and small packages out across the ground. "Woah, these must be like a bajillion years old," Dominic gasped, picking up a handful. "This must be a time capsule," Manuela reasoned, glancing at the message on one of the packages, "It's from 1941, that's during WWII isn't it? This stuff could be really interesting." Her mother had certainly taught her some history, but there was nothing like first hand experience to tell a story. Rachelle didn't seem interested, "It's probably just a bunch of junk, like the one they had us make at the community center." Ignoring her dismissive attitude Manuela tore one of the packages open, gasping when she saw its contents. "Guys, this is important," she said softly, shutting the package back up with her eyes wide, "This is worth a lot of money." Dominic stared at her in awe, "What is it? Gems, gold, drugs?" Rachelle rolled her eyes, "Probably some dumb toys." Manuella shook her head, "No, no, it's not any of that." She slipped her hand into the package, pulling out an elegantly edged certificate, it's corners curling with age, "They're war bonds, a bunch of them." Rachelle and Dominic stared as she began to count the rest, silent until Dominic thought of something fairly important to the issue. "What're we going to do with them?" he asked, "I mean, they don't belong to us, right?" Manuela paused, staring at the numbers, "They don't belong to anyone I guess. Let's take them to Mama Estelle, she'll know what to do." Rachelle nodded in agreement, nudging Dominic to do the same.
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