In The Time Of The Butterflies Part 3

And my room (I share with Minerva) with the windows you throw open on the garden with its bougainvillea arch like the entrance to a magic kingdom in a storybook.

And to be called Mate. (We're not allowed nicknames here. Even Dede was called Belgica, which no one has ever called her.) I guess I will miss some things here.

Like dear Sor Milagros who always helps me braid my hair with ribbons. And Daysi and Lidia who have been so nice lately. I think it helped that Minerva had a talk with them.

But I will NOT miss waking up at six and early morning Matins and sleeping in a big dormitory hall with rude sleepers who snore and Rest & Silence every day and wearing a navy blue serge uniform when there are so many nicer colors and fabrics in the world.

And the chocolate not made with enough chocolate.

Sunday, December 23 Home!

My dear, Minerva explained everything to me in detail and with diagrams as we were coming home on the train. I was not one bit surprised. First, she had already told me about cycles, and second, we do live on a farm, and it's not like the bulls are exactly private about what they do. But still, I don't have to like it. I am hoping a new way will be found by the time I am old enough to be married.

Oh dear, everyone is calling me to come see the pig Tio Pepe brought for tomorrow's Christmas Eve party.

To be continued, Little Book.

Later

Back to the train coming home. A young man started following us around, saying Minerva was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. (She's always getting compliments when we walk on the street.) Just as Minerva and I were going to sit down, this young man dashes forward and wipes our seat with his handkerchief. Minerva thanks him, but doesn't really give him the time of day. At least not the time he wants, which is the invitation to sit with us.

We thought we'd gotten rid of him. We were riding along, the thing thing lesson being done, and here he comes again with a cone of roasted cashews he bought for us at the last stop. He offers it to me, although I'm not to accept tokens from strange men either. lesson being done, and here he comes again with a cone of roasted cashews he bought for us at the last stop. He offers it to me, although I'm not to accept tokens from strange men either.

And yet, and yet ... those cashews smell so yummy and my stomach is growling. I look up at Minerva with my sad puppy dog look, and she gives me the nod. "Thank you very much," I say, taking the cone, and suddenly, the young man is sitting to my left, and peering at the lesson on my lap.

"What a lovely drawing," he says. I could have died! There it was, the thing and its two b.a.l.l.s. Minerva and I giggled so hard, I started choking on a cashew, and the young man smiled away, thinking he had said something very clever!

Christmas Eve

My dearest, darling Little Book!

I am so excited! Christmas and then New Year's and then Three Kings-so many holidays all at once! It is hard to sit still and reflect! My soul just wants to have fun!

My little niece and nephew are staying through Three Kings' Day. Yes, at ten, I am an aunt twice over. My sister Patria has those two babies and is pregnant with a third one. Noris is so cute, one year old, my little doll. Nelson is three and his is the first boy's thing I've seen close up, not counting animals.

First Day of 1946 Little Book, I pulled out Regular Regular from under my pillow for my New Year's fortune. Mama frowns that this isn't allowed by the pope, but I have to think fortunes really do tell the truth. My first day of the year wasn't from under my pillow for my New Year's fortune. Mama frowns that this isn't allowed by the pope, but I have to think fortunes really do tell the truth. My first day of the year wasn't Good Good and it wasn't and it wasn't Bad, Bad, just just Regular. Regular.

It started out with Patria scolding me for telling Nelson ghost stories. I know that Patria is pregnant and not feeling all that well. Still, doesn't she remember she used to play Dark Pa.s.sages with me when I was only four?

And it was Fela who told me the zombie story. I just repeated it.

It takes the joy out of making my resolves, but here they are.

Resolves of Maria Teresa Mirabal for 1946: I resolve not to scare Nelson with scary stories.

I resolve to be diligent with my tasks and not fall asleep when I say my prayers.

I resolve not to think of clothes when I am in church.

I resolve to be chaste, as that is a n.o.ble thing to do. (Sor Asuncion said we should all resolve this as young ladies in the holy Catholic and Apostolic church.) I resolve not to be so tenderhearted as even Minerva says crying will bring on prematuring wrinkles.

I think that is enough resolves for a regular year.

Friday, January 4 Dearest Little Book, We went all the way to the shops in Santiago. They were swamped. Everyone shopping for Three Kings. We had a list made up with things we needed. Papa had given me some money for helping him out at the store. He calls me his little secretary.

I talked Mama into letting me buy another pair of shoes. She didn't see why I needed a second pair since she just got me my First Communion ones. But these newest ones are patent leather, patent leather, and I have always wanted patent leather shoes. I must admit Minerva helped with some of the convincing. and I have always wanted patent leather shoes. I must admit Minerva helped with some of the convincing.

Minerva is so smart. She always finds ways around Mama.

Like today, Minerva found this cute red-and-white checkered swimsuit with a little skirt. When she went to buy it, Mama reminded Minerva of her promesa. promesa. Last night at dinner, Minerva announced that this year she's giving up swimming in our lagoon in exchange for divine help in becoming a lawyer. Minerva drops hints as big as bombs, Papa always says. Last night at dinner, Minerva announced that this year she's giving up swimming in our lagoon in exchange for divine help in becoming a lawyer. Minerva drops hints as big as bombs, Papa always says.

"I don't plan to use it," Minerva explained to Mama. "But how can my promesa promesa have any bite unless I have a pretty suit to tempt me?" have any bite unless I have a pretty suit to tempt me?"

"You are going to argue with Saint Peter at the gate," Mama said. But she was smiling and shaking her head.

Sat.u.r.day, January 5 Dear Little Book, Cousin Berto is so dear. His older brother Raul, too, but Berto is especially special-minded, if that is a word.

Yesterday when Tia Flor was up with the boys, Mama was bemoaning that her rose bushes were so scrabbly and saying she wasn't going to be seeing much of her favorite flowers this year. Right after breakfast this morning, Berto appears with a big basketful of the most beautiful roses for her he had picked himself. Tia's garden has been blooming every variety. Berto had arranged them so specially in the basket. He had picked them with long stems too. Isn't that unheard of for a boy?

The whole house is as sweet as a perfume shop this morning.

Three Kings Day Dear Little Book, I had such a time deciding between the patent leather and white leather for church today. I finally settled for the white pair as Mama picked those out for my First Communion, and I wanted her to feel that they were still my favorites.

Afterwards at Three Kings dinner with all the uncles and cute cousins, there was a funny little moment. Tio Pepe reminded us of the big parade next Sunday for Benefactor's Day, and Minerva said something like why don't we go celebrate at the cemetery. The room went silent as a tomb, all right.

I guess I do have a reflection. Why should we celebrate Benefactor's Day in the cemetery? I asked Minerva, but she said it was just a bad joke, forget she said so.

Benefactor's Day My dear Little Book, We're expecting Tio Pepe any moment. He is coming in the old wagon and taking us to the celebrations in Salcedo. After the parade, there's going to be recitations and a big party over at the town hall. Papa is going to say the speech for the Trujillo Tillers!

This time I'm inaugurating my patent leather shoes and a baby blue poplin dress with a little jacket to match. Patria made them for me with fabric I picked out.

While we're waiting, I am taking these few minutes to wish El Jefe Happy Benefactor's Day with all my heart. I feel so lucky that we have him for a president. I am even born the same month he is (October) and only nine days (and forty-four years!) apart. I keep thinking it shows something special about my character.

Monday, January 14 Dear best friend Little Book, Back at school after the holidays, and I am so homesick. Really, I am writing to keep myself from crying.

Daysi is now best friends with Rita. They both live in Puerto Plata, so they became best friends over the holidays. Maybe Lidia will be my best friend now. She is not coming back until after the Virgencita's feast day on the 21st as her whole family is making the pilgrimage to Higuey.

We are having Rest & Silence before lights-out. We must keep quiet and not visit with each other, but think only of our immortal souls.

I am so tired of mine.

Monday February 18 Dear Little Book, This morning without warning, I was summoned to the princ.i.p.al's office, and my heart dropped when I saw Minerva there, too. At first, I thought someone had died in our family until I noticed Minerva eyeballing me as if to say, watch what you say, girl.

Sor Asuncion comes right out and says your older sister has been caught sneaking out of school. Then, before I can even put that in my head, she asks me if our Tio Mon, who lives in La Vega, is ill, yes or no. I take one look at Minerva's sick-looking face and I nod yes, our Tio Mon is ill, and then I invent with sarampion, sarampion, last I heard. last I heard.

Minerva's face recovers. She flashes our princ.i.p.al an I-told-you-so look.

I guess I even improved upon her lie. Now Minerva could explain her sneaking out. Sarampi Sarampion's so contagious, the sisters would've never let her visit if she'd asked. so contagious, the sisters would've never let her visit if she'd asked.

Thursday, February 21 Dear Little Book, I've been worrying about Minerva sneaking out and lying about Tio Mon. Today, after our courtyard rosary, I cornered her behind the statue of the Merciful Mother. What is going on? I asked, but she tried to brush me off with a joke, "Now, little sister, you don't want us to talk behind the Virgin's back, do you?"

I said yes, yes I do. So Minerva said I was too young to be told some things. That made me angry. I told her that if I was going to commit a Mortal sin, as lying to a religious can't be Venial, the least Minerva could do was tell me what I was risking my immortal soul for.

She seemed pretty impressed with my arguing back at her like that. She's always telling me to stand up for myself, but I guess she didn't figure I'd stand up to her.

She promised to tell me later when we can have a more private conversation.

Sunday, February 24 Little Book, The whole school went to the Little Park of the Dead today. Minerva and I had a chance to talk and she told me everything. Now I am worried to death again. I swear my older sister will be the death of me!

It turns out she and Elsa and Lourdes and Sinita have been going to some secret meetings over at Don Horacio's house! Don Horacio is Elsa's grandfather who is in trouble with the police because he won't do things he's supposed to, like hang a picture of our president in his house. Minerva says the police don't kill him because he is so old, he will soon die on his own without any bother to them.

I asked Minerva why she was doing such a dangerous thing. And then, she said the strangest thing. She wanted me to grow up in a free country.

"And it isn't that already?" I asked. My chest was getting all tight. I felt one of my asthma attacks coming on.

Minerva didn't answer me. I supposed she could see that I was already upset enough. She took both my hands in hers as if we were getting ready to jump together into a deep spot in the lagoon of Ojo de Agua. "Breathe slowly and deeply," she intoned, "slowly and deeply."

I pictured myself on a hot day falling, slowly and deeply, into those cold layers of water. I held on tight to my sister's hands, no longer afraid of anything but that she might let go.

Monday, February 25 Dearest Little Book, It is so strange now I know something I'm not supposed to know. Everything looks just a little different.

I see a guardia, guardia, and I think, who have you killed. I hear a police siren, and I think who is going to be killed. See what I mean? and I think, who have you killed. I hear a police siren, and I think who is going to be killed. See what I mean?

I see the picture of our president with eyes that follow me around the room, and I am thinking he is trying to catch me doing something wrong. Before, I always thought our president was like G.o.d, watching over everything I did.

I am not saying I don't love our president, because I do. It's like if I were to find out Papa did something wrong. I would still love him, wouldn't I?