June 15th, 1968
Bayamo, Cuba
Today was a day Cely's family had been waiting for all of her young life. Her coming of age. A day she would never forget, so they said.
Cely's large plantation-style home was abuzz with servants and employees making preparations for her Quinceñera. The kitchen was alive with various cooks fervently compiling a feast meant to feed at least 100 neighbors and family members.
The signal of the doorbell rang about the mansion. An ornate three-tier white meringue cake was arriving at the home's eloquent doorstep, ordered special for the day's celebration from the city's most prominent bakery. A white lace tablecloth rested over a 15-foot-long dining room table, every inch of it covered with empty silver serving trays. Across from the dining room, every inch of the massively wide hallway was now draped in white chiffon curtains, a setting that Cely's mother would describe as ethereal. To Cely, everything about the day just screamed excess.
Estrella, the home's lead housekeeper, was organizing and delegating orders to the accompanying housekeepers, each tasked with an errand to ensure that the long-awaited party would go off without a hitch. Señora Celeste, Cely's stoic but doting mother, would have no detail go unnoticed. Estrella knew just how important it was to Señora Celeste that this party be among the best that the city had ever seen.
Señora Celeste was counting on this party to re-establish the Reyes family's now-fading name amongst the community. Since the passing of Cely's father, the family's claim to respect had diminished. There were also rumors going around that Señora Celeste, had been seen walking the edges of the city in a yellow dress with a married man. All while she was supposed to be in mourning. Cely herself had not been presenting any form of exemplary behavior and was in trouble for ditching class almost every week. With all of the gossip surrounding the Reyes home, this party would surely avert eyes and put on a display of just who the family always was. Estrella knew she was not to disappoint.
Listening at the bustling shuffle of the various workers' feet, Cely was locked in her room, half-dressed with curlers loosely tied around her thick black hair. She laid on the polished hardwood floor, sulking in a pity party of her own creation. She didn't seem to care at all about the ongoings of that afternoon. Everything on this day would be centered around her mother's vision for a party she never got to have, and would now insist on living it vicariously through Cely.
Cely saw right through the façade as she had not been the one to await this day. She felt like it was just an excuse to parade her around like a show-pony. Cely could not escape the feeling that another day entrapped within the confines of her life was anything to celebrate. She longed to be like the girls she caught glimpses on in the TV commercials and magazines. She had become fixated on a vision of herself riding around in a baby blue Vespa. She had begged her mother to buy her one, but she knew that was as impossible as canceling today's festivities. That vision would remain nothing but a hazy dream, meant for girls not stuck on this island.
Cely sat on her gleaming maple floor, dressed in her white embroidered gown that her mother had specially made for the occasion, lamenting the reality that she would not get to truly decide for anything herself. Cely pondered the arbitrary nature of crossing the threshold of womanhood. She didn't feel any different.
As Cely sat there daydreaming of what life could offer her had things been different, she was interrupted by a ring to her direct phone line. The phone's ringing occupied the room, blaring and disturbing her. She resented the well-wishes on this day that she felt no need to celebrate. It was just another day after all. She ignored the call.
Cely reached for her favorite magazine, another distraction to keep her occupied. Then the phone rang again, and she got a bitter taste in her mouth. She immediately picked up her rotary phone and pressed it to her ear. She was ready to respond to the birthday wishes without a lick of respect, to make sure she satiated her spoiled demeanor. She didn't feel like she was already a woman anyways, no party could confirm that.
Before Cely could say a word, a frantic voice pierced through the phone's speaker.
"Cely, AYUDAME!"
The voice that called for help belonged to her 6-year-old cousin Elena. Her voice was so small and clearly stricken with fear. A tingling chill spread throughout Cely's body.
"Elena, Que Paso?" Confused as to what could be happening to this poor little girl, all Cely could hear was a sudden small scream and then the deafening dial tone. The sound had never sounded so menacing.
Immediately, Cely half-dressed in her party clothes began to run out of her room, throughout her overly decorated home. She rushed and skid past a corridor full of busy servants, two of which were lugging a whole marinated pig wrapped in plastic over their heads, meant to be roasted as the centerpiece of today's banquet. As she unexpectedly burst through them, the pork carcass came tumbling down to ground and the help seemed unphased to the latest stage of her temper tantrum.
"Niña!" Estrella screamed after Cely, certain that her mother would have a total fit if she returned from her errands to find her daughter had run out on her own party. Estrella caught up to Cely and grabbed her by the wrist. Cely's eyes pierced her with a look so stern and furious that Estrella immediately relinquished her grasp. Estrella knew this was no temper tantrum. Cely instructed Estrella to let her mother know that something had gone horribly wrong with Elena.
Estrella would never fathom the seriousness of the situation, but respected Cely's stern expression. Cely was frazzled and panicked beyond reason but knew her mother would know what to do; she always did.
Cely sprinted out the door, her legs struggling to keep up the pace. On her run to Elena's house, Cely's mind raced with all the possibilities that could have caused little Elena to cry out for help in such a drastic way. How did she even know the phone number?
Cely racked her brain for an explanation but she knew that this poor child's life had been filled with nothing but pain in the sole-custody of her mentally ill mother. No one could quite put their finger on what ailed Elena's mother, but her erratic behavior was a sign that something was clearly amiss. With Elena's father overseas, able to do nothing but send financial support and well-wishes, he was as good as absent.
The thought that Elena was in dire pain tugged at her heartstrings. With each notion that crossed her mind, a feeling of anxiety Cely had never known before began to expand inside of her. She felt a deep pounding in her stomach. The urgency and heightened adrenaline tingled at her feet. Cely's mind burned with all of the possible scenarios of Elena's current fate. It wasn't long before the feeling encased her completely. Within this emboldened state was when Cely realized that the power that had possessed her at that moment, was just bitter anger masked as pain. The anger compressed inside her into a black and dense lead ball that was ready to launch out of her.
Cely's could not sprint fast enough to Elena. Cely's profusely running sweat was diluting her eyeliner, spreading it underneath her eyes. She resembled a madwoman running through the streets, crying out to denounce a great injustice known only to her. A neighbor, who saw her sprinting down the sidewalk, attempted to call out to her and congratulate her. Cely darted past his home, unphased by his attempt at small talk. She had no time to chat. The 20-minute walk seemed eternal at that moment. She dripped sweat as the scorching sun cast down on her. Her embroidered skirt was now splotched with dirt and bits of leaves as she hurdled through front yards in an attempt to shortcut to Elena's house.
Finally, at the end of the block, Cely ran up and almost tripped on over her own sandals as she came screeching to a halt at Elena's front steps.
The scream belted out of her mouth, "ELENA!"
The front of the house's paint was chipping, and the walls seemed stained with mold, making the picture all the more morbid. The rusty doorknob turned underneath Cely's desperate hand. The door had been left unlocked.
Cely scanned the room. The broken floorboards let out sounds as she stepped around. The stained couch emanated a rotten smell, and the entire home reeked of rancid seafood. Before Cely let out another scream, Elena whimpered in the corner of the scattered living room.
As Cely rushed over, the floor creaked and stressed underneath her. When she arrived at Elena, Cely was aghast and could not believe her eyes.
Little Elena was curled up in a ball, next to a filthy bucket of live crabs and a bloody wooden mallet. Her tender little arms were covered in scratches and her fingers were purple, inflamed, and bloody. Elena's face looked up to her and that was when Cely let out an audible gasp. Elena's forehead was drenched in dried blood, all of it emanating from a circular hole in her scalp.
Elena's bitch of a mother had gone too far this time. What was a child doing surrounded by all of this? Cely looked into Elena's deep green eyes, the small spheres full of hurt and confusion. The innocent spark that used to shine through them, had long gone out.
"Que Paso Elena?" Cely, asked very softly what possibly happened as she slowly approached Elena.
With every passing step another creak of the floorboard groaned underneath her. As Cely got closer she was pained to see that the hole caved in Elena's scalp was exactly the size and shape of the head of the bloody mallet. The rage and contempt continued to build inside of her.
All the child could muster were two small words: "Mi Mama.." Cely understood the girl's mother was behind this but couldn't even begin to fathom why she would force this task onto Elena. Did she really expect this child to know what to do with this?
Elena's frail hand pointed towards the putrid bucket and shook her head in disapproval, she could barely open her eyes at this point, and said: "No quiero."
Of course she didn't want to, Cely thought.
Her mind ran through the possibilities, had she forced little Elena to kill these crabs with the mallet? The confused child obviously refused, and she must have struck her in the head with a mallet. She always knew that Victoria, Elena's mother, was a menace but she never imagined this.
Those two meager words from Elena were the final straw, Cely didn't care to further assess the situation. From the telling scene, Cely could only assume what her aunt had forced on her own daughter, mutilating her in the process. Who else would have been cruel enough to strike her with a mallet? No one.
The floor, wall, and clothes Elena wore were all drenched in dark maroon blood. Elena's little arms flung toward Cely, and as she whimpered, clung onto Cely with all of her tiny might. It was as Cely and Elena were clutching each other that Cely caught a glimpse of her own mother in the door frame. Her typically serious demeanor was diminished and the heartbreak in her eyes was plain for Cely to see. Señora Celeste tried to speak but the situation was too overwhelming for her to witness. The pain in Cely's eyes paralyzed her, her beautiful dress was now doused in blood, as Elena's ripped clothing was.
Señora Celeste walked straight to her daughter and signaled her to run straight outside to the car, where the chauffeur Jose, was waiting. As she exited the doorway, the 1960 mint green Chevy Impala that was beaming thanks to summer sun, seemed like a heaven-sent chariot to Cely at that moment. As she rushed down the porch steps as carefully as she could, she looked down to see Elena's face was going pale.
Señora Celeste darted straight into her sister-in-law's room. Elena's mother, Victoria, laid spread sleeping on the bed, oblivious to the dire circumstances. The comforter that covered the mattress had been seemingly eroded away by moths. The room was not only in complete disarray, but the floor was littered with empty liquor bottles and packs of red Marlboros. Most recently, it seemed that she had drunk herself into oblivion. An empty bottle of Havana Club rum was the only thing that laid beside Victoria on the bed, and Señora Celeste seethed with anger. Her niece had been left alone in this dumpster of a home with a malicious and incompetent excuse of a mother.
Señora Celeste turned around and caught a glimpse of herself in the cracked mirror hung on Victoria's bedroom walls. She stared back at herself, then her eyes lingered on the surrounding rotting wallpaper that encased the room, and her gaze finally rested on the reflection of Victoria's comatose frame. She was coated in disgust with the scene depicted in the broken reflection.
"Mami!" Cely screamed for her mother as she saw Elena's condition only worsened.
With a swift motion, Señora Celeste walked into the living room grabbed the grotesque bucket of live crustaceans and dropped them across the bed where Elena's mother laid in a drunk coma; making sure that the majority of the creatures covered her face.
As Señora Celeste walked out of the tiny house she fixed her black collar, put on her sunglasses and commanded a bewildered Jose start the engine, and to prepare to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Cely clutched and rocked a traumatized Elena in her arms and whispered to her that she would never leave her side. Cely promised Elena over and over that her mom would never hurt her again. As Cely's mother piled into the car, she exchanged an indistinguishable look with her daughter from the front seat of the car.
There would be no party today.
