“How could they hold the candles?” Olivia asked.

“Olivia, let me finish the story. A fisherman saw the miracle, but when he got closer, the statue drifted away from him. When he fully clothed himself, he was able to reach her. He presented the statue of Our Lady to the Spanish governor. And you know what?”

“What?” asked Olivia.

“The crabs with candles are only a part of the miracle. The statue is made of ironwood. Ironwood doesn’t float.”

“Then how can it float?”

I sighed. Some people don’t know how to just accept a miracle.

Nightly Ritual

At eleven I check to see if Tata has switched from the floor to his bed. He hasn’t. I cover him with a blanket as I’ve done almost every night since we returned a month ago. The beer must help him sleep soundly because he doesn’t even stir.

Back in my room, I stare at the ceiling, trying to remember how to make the golai hagun sune. I can only recall the coconut. Olivia’s nightmare comes and goes, we visit the bathroom, and then I fall asleep to the sound of scratches.

Gone

Teresita spits on the ground. “My uncle sold my chickens,” she says. “He tricked me. He asked me which of the chickens were the best fighters. I told him. Then he sold them.”

“Why did he sell them?” I ask her.

Teresita is boiling in her own stew and doesn’t hear me. Back and forth she paces. “All year long, I’ve trained my chickens. I picked the best ones and spent at least an hour a day boxing them.”

“Teresita, why did he sell them?”

She takes a big breath. “He said he needed the money. He’s probably right. He makes so many bad bets. My uncle has even bet against his own chickens and lost. Such an idiot! But selling them isn’t the worst part.” She swallows and takes a deep breath. “Isabel, he sold them to Lorenzo.”

She boxes the air. Bam, bam, bam. And I’m certain if Lorenzo or her uncle had been standing there, they’d be flat on the ground.

The Christening of Carmella Iglesias Martina Cruz Flores

Today the priest christens Ana’s baby. Her full name is Carmella Iglesias Martina Cruz Flores. Her father, Dominic, keeps his arm around Ana. He won’t quit grinning either. He acts like he did something special. Like he lay in bed, for nine hours, with his knees against his chest and squeezed out a baby. All he did was unzip his pants, then, probably five minutes later, zip them back up.

Dominic’s brother is the godfather and Auntie Bernadette is the godmother. She must be the godmother to a hundred children. What is she going to do if one day someone gives her all those kids? Feed them herbs? She collects babies like Auntie Minerva collects religious plates. I hope she never has to make room for them.

Auntie Bernadette’s Baby Fiesta

Every year Auntie Bernadette hosts a fiesta for the babies that she delivered into the world. She also invites the babies that were conceived after she treated their mothers, and her godchildren. Some of those babies are now my age. Some are grown-ups with babies of their own.