A Quiet Kismet

Chapter Twenty

AGE 7

I was going to have my first communion. I went to class all year and passed all the requirements that deemed me worthy in the catholic church. My Mother and Godmother had taken me shopping for my communion dress. I turned my nose up at every option. The idea of wearing a big puffy white dress in front of the people I went to school with was embarrassing. I had a reputation to uphold.

"What about this one mija?" My Godmother, Mrs. Vargas asked. She held up a white dress adorned with flowers and fake pearls. I grimaced and shook my head, it was the tenth dress I had turned away. Why couldn't I wear jeans and t-shirt to this thing?

"That's it, the next dress we find, you're getting." Mom said, her voice dangerously low and threatening. "Your sister's didn't give me this much trouble, and I'm not about to walk out of the store without your dress."

That night, we went home empty handed. I had not chosen a dress and when Mom brought it up at dinner to Dad, he seemed sympathetic towards me. Dad, unlike Mom, was easily susceptible to my world famous pout. He knew how much I hated the idea of wearing a big ugly white dress and toe pinching shoes.

"Flor, she doesn't want to wear a dress. Why should she?" Dad said, patting my wild curly hair down. From across the table Mom slammed her fist down on the table.

"Because it's appropriate Ruben!" Mom shouted, pushing her chair back and storming off. The rest of us watched silently because we knew not to mess with mom when she was upset. Dad on the other hand shared a toothy smile with us, and pointed to his food.

"Eat up guys, there's plenty to go around tonight."

We didn't argue, not even Delia who liked to poke the bear. Even she didn't want to say anymore on the subject. So we all ate dinner in silence, only the scrapes of our forks on the plates could be heard throughout the house. It was one of the quietest dinners of my life.

After dinner I asked Dad if it was my fault they were fighting. He quickly assured me it wasn't my fault. "Your Mama is just upset that you don't want to wear a dress. I know you don't want to because I know you Millie. I get you more than anyone else here because you're exactly like me. But sometimes we just have to do what Mama wants because she does everything for us. Do you understand?"

"We do stuff we don't want to do because Mama wants us to?" I asked, not completely understanding.

"No we do stuff we don't want to do because the people we love ask us to. Your Mama loves us and takes care of us all the time. Sometimes we forget to thank her for that. So if she wants you to wear a dress, you should do it because she does so much for you already." He said patiently. I nodded, I understood, but deep down I still didn't want to wear the dress.

Mom came into my room later that night and made me a compromise. "If you wear a beautiful dress for the communion, I will let you choose whatever shoes you want to wear. Does that sound like a fair deal?"

Not really, but if it got Mom and Dad to stop fighting, I was all for it. "Okay." I agreed, "But please don't be mad at Dad." I added for good measure.

Mom's eyebrows shot up, she leaned in close and tucked my arms under my blanket. I waited silently for her to agree but she still said nothing. Instead she kissed my forehead, combed my curls off my forehead, and mumbled, "I love you my Millie. Now go to sleep. We will shop for your dress and shoes in the morning and have you ready before next weekend." Then she got up and left.

That night, I heard a low mumbling. Mom and Dad were talking, thankfully not yelling, but they didn't sound happy. Dad said something then a few seconds later I heard their door open and close and then soft creaks of the floorboards. I curled against my pillow and waited for more but nothing else came.