A Mysterious Farewell Gift

 

  Chocolate and cinnamon burst onto Emma’s tongue as she took a sip of Abuela’s creamy hot chocolate. On the stool next to her, Martín crunched into a crispy churro, spilling sugar crystals all over his shirt.

  Emma rolled her eyes.

  “What?” Martín said, wiping crumbs onto the floor.

  Emma knew they were supposed to wait until after the big comida before eating their dessert. But Abuela had pulled them into the kitchen as soon as they arrived and placed mugs of chocolate caliente and a platter of churros in front of them.

  “I made these just for you,” she said, indicating the churros.

  What were they supposed to do? Break their abuela’s heart?

  Never!

  So Emma and Martín did the only reasonable thing they could and happily accepted the churros and chocolate.

  “Well…?” Abuela asked as she lifted the lid off a big ceramic pot on the stove. The smell of bubbling frijoles filled the kitchen. “How are you two feeling?”

  Emma didn’t know quite how to answer Abuela’s question. She was feeling a number of confusing and conflicting things. While Emma decided what to say, an orange butterfly drifted over to Emma and Martín and landed on the counter, opening and closing its wings before picking up a warm breeze. They all watched it fly out the window before Emma responded.

  “Fine,” she lied, taking another sip of chocolate.

  Martín said nothing, crunching into his churro instead.

  The rest of the family was out on the patio: tíos, tías, primos, primas, and even some of Abuela’s neighbors—all happily chatting and laughing as if this were just an ordinary Saturday gathering.

  “Come on now, be honest,” Abuela said, seeing right through Emma’s fake happiness and Martín’s avoidance tactics.

  “Honestly?” Martín asked.

  Abuela nodded.

  “This is a terrible party.”

  Under other circumstances, Emma would have nudged him. Don’t be rude, she would have said. But these were not ordinary circumstances.

  “This party is the worst,” Emma agreed. She knew it wasn’t a nice thing to say, but it was true. After all, this was a goodbye party.

  “It’s not fair that we have to move.” Martín took another bite, splattering churro sugar all over the place.

  “Yeah,” Emma said, wiping Martín’s crumbs off her pants. “Not fair at all.”

  Abuela set down her wooden spoon and tilted her head at them.

  “Dios santo,” she said. “I never thought I’d see the day when you two would agree on something.”

  For all nine years the twins had been alive, Emma and Martín had always disagreed: about food, movies, books, music, hobbies. In fact, they usually spent more time disagreeing than agreeing on anything.

  But today, Emma and Martín were 100 percent on the same page.

  “Ay, mis niños,” Abuela said. “I’m sorry you feel this way. But this is a good opportunity for your dad. You know that.”

  Emma and Martín sighed. In unison.

  Abuela was right, of course. Dad had been looking for a job like this forever. And it was actually a perfect job for him. But seriously, was there nobody else in all of Chicago who could be a school principal? Why did it have to be Dad? Especially since it meant they had to leave Mexico and start a new life in the US. How was that fair?

  “I just think we should be allowed to stay with you,” Emma said.

  Abuela laughed. But her laugh didn’t go all the way to her eyes, and it made her face look sad.

  “Your parents would miss you terribly,” Abuela replied. “I couldn’t do that to them.”

  She picked up her spoon again and gave the frijoles on the stove a stir.

  “Well, then maybe they shouldn’t be moving,” Martín grumbled, and dunked a churro into his hot chocolate.

  “Some things you cannot change,” Abuela said. “No matter how much you’d like to. Besides, it’s not like you’re moving to a completely foreign land. You’ve been there before.”

  “But it’s different when you’re just visiting,” Emma said.

  “We won’t know anybody,” Martín added.

  “And we’ll miss our home.” Emma kept her eyes focused on the plate before her. She knew that if she looked up at Abuela, even for a moment, she would start to cry.

  “Ah, but home is not a place.” Abuela put one arm around Emma’s shoulders and another around Martín’s.

  “Home is a feeling. Aquí.”

  She put her hand on her heart. Here.

  “You may not be in Mexico, but you’ll make a home for yourselves wherever you are.”

  Martín huffed. “I doubt it.”

  “And anyway,” Emma added, “it won’t be the same. Not without you.”

  Abuela smiled for real this time. “That may be true.”

  She pulled the twins into a hug. “But that doesn’t mean change is bad. And who knows? Perhaps your new home will be just as wonderful as your home here.”

  “Never!” Emma shouted.

  “Not a chance!” said Martín.

  Abuela laughed. “You two are already changing,” she said. “Not only have you not disagreed once since you came into my kitchen, but… look.”

  She pointed at their shirts, and Emma realized she and Martín had both chosen to wear identical blue shirts and jeans.

  “You two are like that mariposa that just stopped by.” Abuela pointed at the window where the butterfly had flown out. “It wasn’t always a butterfly, you know? It started as a caterpillar, but when it emerged from its cocoon, it was transformed to face its new environment.”

  “Yeah, well…,” Martín grumbled. “Except we didn’t choose that new environment.”

  “Neither did the butterfly.” Abuela winked. “But it manages to adapt, and I think you will do the same.”

  Emma wasn’t so sure about that.

  They’d been to Chicago before, and Dad had made them do a ton of research so they knew everything possible about the city before going. He thought that would make them more excited to go.

  Instead it made Emma realize all the things they would be leaving behind: a house without boundaries between the indoors and the outdoors; a garden that was always in bloom; cute little lizards running up her bedroom wall; birds flying through their living room; butterflies landing on their kitchen counter for a brief sugar visit. And to say nothing of the food, the music, the sounds, and the smells.

  No!

  No matter what Dad said, there would never be a place as wonderful as their home in Cuernavaca, the “City of the Eternal Spring.”

  Laughter spilled in from the party, and Emma frowned.

  “Oh… please don’t be sad, mis amores,” Abuela said. But it was hard not to be sad.

  “Listen,” Abuela whispered, leaning in close. “I was going to wait until later, but I think I’ll do this now.”

  “Do what?” Emma asked.

  Abuela reached for a large square package wrapped in blue and yellow and red paper. “I have a present. Un regalo muy especial.”

  “For us?” Emma asked.

  Abuela nodded. “Go on. Open it.”

  Martín didn’t have to be told twice.

  The twins unveiled a heavy book with an image of a pyramid on the front. The cover was made of leather, soft and very old.

  “They’re legends, stories about Mexico,” Abuela explained. “So you’ll always remember where you come from.”

  Emma ran her hands over the gold lettering engraved at the top of the book. MEXICO LINDO Y QUERIDO, it read. When she opened the book, there were many inscriptions on the front page:

   

  Para Beatríz

  Para Eduardo

  Para Victoria

  Para Carmela

  “For Carmela,” Emma said. “That’s you!”

  “But who is Victoria?” Martín asked. “And who are all those other people?”

  “Those are your ancestors,” Abuela explained. “Victoria was my mother. She died shortly before you were born. She was ninety-nine years old. Can you believe it?”

  “That’s super old,” Martín said.

  “She would have loved knowing you.” Abuela smiled. “You have her eyes.”

  It was the one trait Emma and Martín shared: they both had their mother’s honey-colored eyes. But that was the only similarity. Emma took after her gringo father and had inherited his lighter skin and almost-blond hair. Martín took after Mami, with her dark skin and tight curly hair. He was also almost a head shorter than Emma.

  “My mother gave me this book when your mami was born,” Abuela explained. “I used to read these stories to her when she was a young girl. And now I’m giving it to you.”

  Abuela took a pen and added a new inscription: Para Emma y Martín.

  “It is a very special book,” Abuela went on. “It will take you on many adventures.” She lowered her voice once more. “Some would even say it’s magic.”

  “Magic?” the twins asked.

  “Kids? Where are you?” Mami walked into the kitchen. “What are you three up to in here?”

  “Nothing,” the three said in unison.

  “I find that hard to believe.” Mami laughed. “I bet you’re trying to get in as much chocolate and churros as you can before we leave.”

  Emma nodded, and Martín shoved the remaining bite of churro into his mouth.

  “Well, don’t eat too much. You know we have quite a feast coming up.”

  After that it was hard to find time to talk to Abuela about the book and what she meant when she said it was magic. Everyone wanted to see the twins and talk to them; there were songs to sing and mariachis to listen to.

  Steaming tamales, creamy frijoles, and fluffy rice were piled onto heaping plates. A batch of freshly made tortillas steamed under a white towel.

  Emma and Martín tried their hardest to stay awake through it all, but the party went late. One moment they were sitting on the couch finishing off a silky sweet flan and trying to keep their eyes open while their tío told stories about growing up in a haunted house. The next moment they were waking up in their house for the very last time.