For the people of Guam, with love and gratitude

A Dutiful Daughter

My mother died praying on her knees. Her rosary beads were still in her hands when we found her. She left no note, said no good-byes, gave no last hugs or kisses. Only the empty bottle of sleeping pills that had rolled under her bed proved that she’d meant to leave.

I found her first. But I didn’t know she was dead. I thought she was praying.

That morning, I eased her door shut, tied on her apron, and made breakfast for my little brother and sister. I felt proud to scramble their eggs and butter their toast.

Later I tied blue ribbons in Olivia’s hair and dipped the comb into a glass of water before parting Frank’s. I had no idea it was the first of many mornings I’d be doing that.

Tamuning

After my mother died, my father couldn’t bear to look at the front door of our home. I overheard Tata tell my mother’s older sister, Auntie Bernadette, that he saw my mother’s ghost standing by the door. That’s why we’re staying with Tata’s sister, Auntie Minerva, in Tamuning.

“Just for a little while, Isabel,” Tata told me the day we moved here, but it’s been five long months. I asked Tata why we couldn’t stay with Auntie Bernadette in Malesso. She lives a few houses away from us. But Tata said, “Bernadette is … was your mother’s sister. Not mine.”

Tamuning is north of Malesso. Stores and restaurants line the streets. All night long, I lie in bed and smell spicy scents from the Thai restaurant across the road. I hear cars pass on the highway. Sometimes a siren whines, reminding me of the morning the ambulance carried my mother away.

We’re stupid staying in Tamuning while our lives take place in Malesso. Everyone we know lives there—Auntie Bernadette and Uncle Fernando, my friends, our dogs. Our store is there, Frank’s school, and my father’s boat. We’re like clubs trying to be hearts in a stack of cards.

Rides to St. Cletus

Each weekday morning, before the sun rises, Tata slips out of Auntie Minerva’s house and heads to Malesso to feed our dogs and spend the day fishing. Later, Auntie Bernadette drives from Malesso to pick us up for school because Auntie Minerva claims she’s too busy with the church. Before taking Frank to the public school, Auntie Bernadette drops us off at St. Cletus in Talofofo.

This is Olivia’s first year at St. Cletus. She’s in second grade, and my father believes when girls get old enough to notice boys, it’s good for them to be surrounded by nuns. I’m in eighth grade. The nuns can’t stop me from looking.

Auntie Bernadette has no kids of her own and is old enough to be my grandmother. Even though she was born with a crippled hand, she’s one of the most respected suruhanas on Guam. Auntie heals aches and pains and helps barren women become pregnant. She drives with her right hand, or, as she calls it, her good one. As if the other hand that stays folded, pressed against her chest, is the bad one.