The Butterfly’s Daughter (9 page)

“Visiting?”

“Nope. Just passing through.”

“Uh-huh,” she said with suspicion. “Where to?”

Luz stopped fumbling for her keys and thought about saying San Antonio, but thought again. What did she have to lose by telling a complete stranger where she wanted to go, really, in her heart of hearts? There was safety with a stranger, no consequences.

“I'm on my way to Mexico.”

Hearing this, the girl's wariness slipped from her face like a mask removed. “Really? That's cool.” She paused, considering, then said simply, “I'm Ofelia.”

Mr. Cordero ambled toward them, drying his hands on a towel. “Hey, did I hear you say you're going to Mexico?” he asked with sudden interest. “Where?”

“A little town called Angangueo. It's in the mountains,” Luz explained, not expecting anyone to know it.

He lifted his arms exuberantly. “Sure, I know where that is!”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'm from Zitácuaro. Not far from Angangueo.” He tossed
the towel over his shoulder, crossed his arms, and rocked on his heels, warming to the subject. “That's where I was born. It's beautiful there. Man, I miss being in the mountains. Well, whaddya know. You got family there?”

“Uh, yes.”

He beamed at her. “What's their name? I might know them.”

“Gimme a break,” Ofelia said with a roll of her eyes. “Everybody says something stupid like that.”

“No, no, it's a small town,” Mr. Cordero argued.

Luz had to think for a moment of the family name in Angangueo, since Manolo was the son of Abuela's first husband. “It's Zamora,” she replied. “My uncle is Manolo Zamora.”

He rubbed his jaw, then shrugged. “There are lots of Zamoras.”

“Told ya,” Ofelia chimed.

Luz noticed that Mr. Cordero took Ofelia's incessant teasing in stride. “My grandmother's family is from there,” Luz continued, and found it comforting to be talking about Abuela. “She moved to America with her first husband. To San Antonio. But after he died, she married my grandfather, Hector Avila, and moved back to Morelia. Then after I was born she came to Milwaukee to take care of me. She was a cook in a restaurant, too,” she added, pleased to see Mr. Cordero's brows arch like two woolly caterpillars over his eyes. “She always talked about going back one day.”

“Yeah, we all do. I go back and forth when I can.”

“This is my first trip. I'm taking her ashes home.”

Ofelia shrank back in her chair as she pointed to the box on the chair beside her. “Is that her?”

Luz nodded, thinking that Ofelia was acting like a child as she shifted in her seat to scoot farther from the box.

“
Acepte mis condolencias.
You're a good kid, you know?” Mr.
Cordero said as a pronouncement. “Not everyone would go through the trouble.”

“Yeah. I'd use FedEx,” Ofelia said.

“Oh, shut up,” said Mr. Cordero, but there was a laugh in it.

“I'm just saying,” Ofelia said in mock defense. “It'd be easier.”

“If you knew my
abuela,
” Luz said to Ofelia, swallowing a lump of indignation, “you'd understand why I'm doing this. She was pretty amazing. And she raised me all by herself. She meant everything to me.”

Luz looked over to see the monarchs painted on the mural. “Abuela loved the monarch butterflies. She used to tell me stories all the time of what it was like when the butterflies returned to the mountains near her village in the fall. She always wanted to take me to the sanctuaries to see them. We talked about it all the time. But . . .” She felt the sadness bubble up in a spurt.

It was the way it was with grief. One moment she was fine, and the next, a comment, a thought, something trivial would waft by to spark a memory and grief would surge. She didn't want to cry in front of these strangers and struggled to pull herself together. “She passed away before we got the chance. So I'm taking her home.”

Mr. Cordero seemed moved. He cleared his throat and stared at his boots. They were thick soled, worn at the heels. “Yeah, well, your
abuela
was right about them butterflies,” he said. “I remember them real clear. Man, I tell you, the way they shoot through the villages on their way up the mountains. Thousands at a time!” He shook his head as though to emphasize the point. “When I was a kid, just a schoolboy, eh? We went up to the mountains to see them high up there. You never forget it, you know? Millions of them, roosting so thick they look like clumps of brown leaves hanging on
the trees. It's the kinda thing that stays with you.” He pounded his chest near his heart. “Right here.”

He tugged the towel from his shoulder and began walking back to the counter, then stopped. “You're doing a good thing, taking your
abuela
back to Mexico. Shows duty.
Fortaleza,
eh?” he added, nodding with his encouragement and approval.

Luz cast a glance at Ofelia to see that she had stilled in her chair and was listening to the exchange intently. When she met Luz's gaze, she shrugged indifferently and went back to rubbing her feet.

“You gonna be there for El Día de Los Muertos, right?” asked Mr. Cordero.

“I hope I make it.”

“You gotta be there for that!” he exclaimed, hands out. “I mean, you gotta be there when
las monarcas
fly in. That's when her spirit flies with them. You know that, right?”

To see the hefty man speak with such sweet sincerity was moving. Luz nodded. “Yes, but I'm having car trouble. That's why I'm waiting here.”

“Car trouble? You take it to Vera's?”

Luz nodded again.

“They're good people.”

“They have to order a part so I've got to wait till tomorrow. Maybe the next day or two. I don't know what to do. I'm thinking of calling my boyfriend to pick me up. I can't afford just to hang out.”

Ofelia perked up. “Hey, you know what I'm thinking, Mr. Cordero? We need somebody to take Carmen's place, right? Why not hire Luz?”

“I'm only going to be here for a day or two at most,” Luz reminded her.

“But that would help us out till we find someone new.”

“You ever been a waitress before?” asked Cordero skeptically.

“I worked for a while at the restaurant where my grandmother worked. Just part-time after school.”

Ofelia sat straighter in her chair.

“You said your
abuela
was a cook. What'd she make?” he asked, testing her.

“Classic Mexican, mostly, for the restaurant. But she could make anything. And you've never tasted mole sauce until you've tasted hers. It was earthy dark and sprinkled with melted cheese.” She remembered cooking with Abuela, an apron tied around her waist, standing in front of four or five pots bubbling on the stove. Abuela would wag her fingers to draw Luz close, then she'd hold out the herbs and spices, one by one, under her nose and make her sniff—coriander, cumin, chilies, cilantro. Luz could still smell them in her mind.

“Sometimes she'd cook up special recipes from her village. People would flock to the restaurant, eager for a taste of home. She taught me everything she knows. I could prepare every dish you cooked today.”

Ofelia snorted. “Then you know everything, 'cause it's the same every day.”

“If your
abuela
's from Michoacán, then she knows my style,” Mr. Cordero said after giving it some thought. “I guess it could work. You seem like a pretty smart girl. Do you speak Spanish?”

“I understand it but I don't speak it so well.”

“
Lo suficientemente bueno como para tomar un pedido?
”

“
Sí.
Good enough to get an order,” Luz replied.

“I gotta tell you, this isn't the way I like to do things. But I will do this because your
abuela
is from my home.” He shrugged. “And
my girl Ofelia is getting tired. It's no good for her baby to work this hard and no good for me if she gets any slower, eh? So maybe this is a good idea after all. You work a few days, maybe longer if you like. Earn a little money for your car. Then everybody is happy. Okay?”

Luz held her breath and wondered if this wasn't another push from Abuela. She could hear her voice.
Fortaleza.

“Okay,” she replied, and for no reason laughed.

Ofelia clapped her hands. “This is, like, so great. I mean, really,
chica,
I can't believe it. And don't you worry none, you'll catch on quick.” She went to Mr. Cordero and gave him a quick hug. “My feet thank you, Mr. Cordero!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, unconvincingly feigning a frown.

“There's still the problem of where I'm going to sleep tonight,” Luz said. “Do you know of some hotel that's clean and decent and won't cost me an arm and a leg?”

“There's a Holiday Inn near the expressway,” Mr. Cordero said.

“That's not cheap,” countered Ofelia. “What about Las Damas?”

Mr. Cordero scratched his jaw. “It's nothing fancy, but it's clean. And cheap. I know the woman who runs the place. I'll give her a call. Find out if she has a room.”

“It's where I stayed when I first got here,” said Ofelia. “It's kind of a boardinghouse for women who come to the city and need a safe place to stay for a few days. A lot of women from Mexico stay there when they first get here.”

What Ofelia was describing sounded to her like a halfway house. “I don't know. Maybe the motel is better.”

Ofelia caught the worry in Luz's tone and said reassuringly, “I know what you're thinking but this is better. Really. It's nice.”

“So, why did you move?”

“I live with Angel now.”

Mr. Cordero began clearing a few tables. “He's no good.”

Ofelia waved off the comment. “And Suzanne Corrington—she's the lady who owns the house—only lets girls stay till they get a job or find another place to live. It's a safe place for them when they get to town. I figure that's because she had such a hard time. I heard stories about what happened to her and, girl, you don't want to know.”

“She's a saint in my book,” Mr. Cordero said.

“I can take you there to meet her and check it out, okay?”

Luz puffed out air, considering. It sounded like a good offer and she wouldn't have to turn back. Then she thought of the mural. It had to be a sign. “Okay. Yes,” she said, deciding. “Thanks.”

“Well, if you two are finished yakking, grab an apron and let's get started before the dinner shift rolls in,” said Mr. Cordero with a swing of his arms. “
Vámonos.
”

For the next few hours Luz learned how to hustle. Mr. Cordero's system of taking orders, serving them, and cleaning up was strictly short-order business—no flourishes. The menu was simple and displayed on a big board behind the counter. Most people were regulars and knew what they wanted. Mr. Cordero was pleased that she caught on so quickly. Ofelia was loud and boisterous, a know-it-all who was always correcting. But she was also open and friendly. When they left El Iguana for the night, Ofelia's enthusiastic personality overflowed.

“This is so great!” she said, linking arms with Luz. Ofelia had let down her hair and put on a fresh coat of coral-colored lipstick, a gold cross around her neck, and several bracelets on her arms. They jangled and clicked sexily when she moved. “I thought I was going to end up giving birth to my replacement.”

They walked down the street, past a mural that dominated the side of the two-story brick building. It came alive with the faces of heroes from the history books of Mexico. More brick apartment buildings lined the sidewalk. Most of the street-level windows had bars across them and the paint on the sills and doors was peeling. Dilapidated cars were parked in front along the curb. One building stood out like a tangerine in a basket of potatoes. Freshly painted a bright orange with shiny black shutters, Las Damas punctuated its statement with flower boxes filled with cascading ivy and lipstick pink geraniums exploding in the final flush of summer.

“It looks like my old Barbie house,” Luz exclaimed.

Ofelia giggled and tugged at her to keep walking.

What the house lacked in subtlety it made up for in security. There was a tall, heavy black iron fence enclosing the house that made it appear impenetrable and safe. They rang the bell. Minutes later a pretty, petite blonde with short, spiky hair answered the door. She wore thick black glasses through which her gaze scoured every inch of Luz. Then they rested on Ofelia and with the speed of shooting fireworks, her smile exploded in welcome.

“Ofelia! It's about time you came back to see me!” The woman engulfed Ofelia in a hug.

“How're you doing, Suzanne?” she replied, suddenly sheepish.

“Look at you!” Suzanne exclaimed, eyeing the belly. “Last time I saw you I couldn't tell you were pregnant and now . . . that baby looks like it's ready to come out and play.”

“Not till next month, so don't give this baby any ideas. I'm counting on a paycheck for a few more weeks.”

Her cell phone rang and Ofelia immediately dug it out from her purse. All her earlier bravado fled and Luz thought she saw
her physically draw into herself. She clutched the phone tightly to her ear.

“I'm at Las Damas,” Ofelia said into the phone. There was a pause and her expression grew haunted. She turned her back, huddling over the phone, and spoke in a softer voice. “But I told you I was going to take Luz. I did, Angel, really. Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm sorry, it's my fault. Yeah, okay.” Ofelia was nodding her head and her voice rose in forced cheerfulness. “I'll be right there.”