Passage I

PROSE FICTION: This passage is adapted from Arturo Islas's novel Migrant Souls (©1990 by Arturo Islas). Mama Chona is Miguel Chico and Josie's grandmother.

In high school, Josie began to see that she was not kind or charitable in ways their mother taught them to be. Nor was she popular like her cousin Miguel Chico, two years younger than she and already a class favorite.

Even though he was one of Mama Chona's pets, Josie adored him. Together, they loved and argued about books and movies and from the start, felt they could talk honestly to each other about most family matters. Their intimacy was born when they discovered that each found the wicked stepmother far more interesting than the boring Snow White, who deserved her even more boring and bland prince.

“They're so nice, they make me sick,” Josie told Miguel Chico.

“Me, too,” he said. . . .

Josie prided herself on her intelligence and on seeing the world without sentimentality or exaggeration. “I am the true scientist in this crazy family,” she said to her cousin. “And the family, especially Mother, won't forgive me because I tell them what I see, good and bad, without all that sugarcoating or denial.”

Miguel Chico leaned to the clinical, if not the scientific, and took Josie's side in most family quarrels. Enjoying his popularity and the privileges of a favorite grandchild, he was still denying what he saw in himself, let alone others, in those early years of learning to be the consummate pleaser.

Josie watched him charm his life away through high school, where, with little effort, he carried off all the prizes. How she hated it when her mother pointed out his accomplishments to her. Only her sense that he was headed toward disaster kept alive her affection for him every time Eduviges asked, “Why can't you be like your cousin Miguel?”

“Hello, nephew,” Eduviges said to him warmly. He and Josie were in the kitchen spreading apple butter on saltines. “How nice of you to stop by on your way home from school.”

“Thank you, Tia. I hope we're not in your way," he said. Mama Chona had taught him the best of manners.

“Not at all, Miguelito. But Josie knows she's not supposed to eat between meals.” She spoke as if her daughter were a stranger in the room. Miguel Chico putdown the cracker he had just buttered.

“Not you, Miguel. You're a growing boy. You can eat as much as you want. It's only natural.” ...

“Ofelia and Serena understand why I ask them to be careful about what and when they eat,” his aunt said... “Do you think I'm being unreasonable?”

Her nephew mumbled something noncommittal and was glad when his aunt and cousin did not ask him to repeat it. He felt the kitchen charged with their antagonism toward each other, very like when he was in his father's presence. Here, he was an observer, but he lost his appetite in an instant. Josie fixed three more crackers and offered him one. He took it and set it next to the other on the blue napkin in his lap.

“Eat, cousin,” she said. “You have permission from on high.” And she put the two remaining snacks in her mouth at the same time.

“Josie, I'm warning you,” Eduviges said. “If you don't feel like eating your supper later, there won't be any midnight raids on the refrigerator.”

“What are you going to do, Mother? Put a padlock on the door?” Josie laughed.

“Malcriada,” her mother said. “Ofelia and Serena know I mean it.”

Josie licked the apple butter on the spoon. “It sure is hard,” she said to Miguel Chico, “being the sister of a perfect child and a saint.” Then, looking at her mother with even darker eyes, she said, “Leave me alone Mother. I'm old enough to make my own choices. And anyway, you're never going to approve of anything do, so why not just give up and be quiet about it?”...

Miguel Chico sat stunned by the boldness of his cousin's words. He knew it was a habit of the older generation of Angels to tell everyone else but one's own children how much they loved them and how proud they were of their accomplishments. Always, they made their own feel that nothing they did would ever be good enough. Miguel Chico's father was a master of that game. Still, he had never spoken to him in such a tone and with such harsh words.

“Well,” Eduviges said. “Just remember that I warned you, young lady. Please come back and see us, Miguel. You are always welcome in my house.” She left the room.

“I think you're going 'to hear from Saint Wretched,” Miguel Chico said to his cousin after putting back the top on the apple-butter jar.

“Oh, shut up,” Josie said. “Why didn't you eat the crackers, Mr. Perfect?”

“Because I wasn't hungry,” he said.

“Neither was I after she started giving orders.”