Chapter 7
The Cabezona
It was over—my twelfth birthday party. The next day I helped mama and papa clean up. My insides were warm just thinking about all the great things that had happened the day before. After Neli had been sent to our bedroom, she hadn’t come out at all. Even this morning she refused to come to breakfast. Too bad for her. She missed the menudo papa had bought at the Garcia’s Milagro Bakery. It was the best store-bought spicy hominy dish around.
The only thing I felt bad about was that my mama was worried about Neli. Papa told her not to be concerned, that Neli probably needed to be alone. Like a time out. However, when the moment came to go to church, he made Neli join us. Neli didn’t speak a word while we were in the car. When we reached the church, she kept her face down.
I had never seen Neli so quiet. She was beginning to worry even me. It was good that no insults were coming out of her zigzaggy mouth but having a silent Neli was too weird. She just stared out the window with really sad eyes.
When Mass finished and we left the church, I had a brain surge. Maybe this would get her to talk. I asked Neli if she wanted the Snickers bar in my purse. Snickers was her favorite chocolate. But she just shook her head, not even glancing at me.
Papa took us to eat lunch at Mexico Hermoso. When mama asked Neli what she wanted to eat, my sister just shook her head again. Papa ordered her her favorite— puffy tacos. But she wouldn’t eat them when they came.
“What’s wrong, my cuddles?” mama asked, concerned. “Are you sick?”
Neli shook her head once again.
“I think Neli wants to be alone with her thoughts,” papa said.
Neli nodded.
“Next week will be your birthday, my cuddles,” mama announced, “and we’re going to celebrate wherever you want.”
Neli nodded again. She was really beginning to worry me. By this time, she should’ve said something insulting about my party.
After we finished eating, Neli only drank her tea, we went home. Feo barked at Neli, but she didn’t even glance at him as she stepped into the house. My dog stared at her with a strange expression. Even he was surprised she hadn’t pulled his ears.
Neli trudged straight to our bedroom. I stepped over to the living room with mama to watch a movie. Papa had to go to a friend’s house to help with a porch. It was good having mama all to myself for a change. If Neli had been there, she would’ve hogged her.
Mama hugged me and kissed me on the forehead. Neli quietly passed by. Her sad eyes turned zigzaggy, and she rushed back to our room.
Mama stood up. “I need to speak to her,” she muttered
“I’ll go talk to her, Mama,” I said. “I think it’ll be better.”
Mama nodded forlornly as I left the living room. I was surprised and baffled to find her in my closet. When I opened the door to it, I nearly exploded!
“What are you doing?” I snapped furiously.
“Are you blind or what? I’m throwing your stupid clothes away!”
“Why?”
Neli ignored me and kept flinging my clothes to the ground.
“Stop it!” I exclaimed.
She wouldn’t stop.
I grabbed her arm. “Stop it! Stop it!”
“Little Miss Perfect! Let’s see how perfect you are when you go to school with no nice clothes!” She abruptly shook off my hand in jerking movements.
“Big head!” I blurted. “Big hard head.”
She stopped throwing my clothes and glared at me. “Stop calling me that!”
“Cabezona!”
“Stop calling me that!” she roared.
Mama rushed into the room, looking very upset. “What’s wrong? What’s all the shouting about?”
“Look at what Neli’s done to my clothes.” I pointed to the floor.
“Neli Lisa Rubio!” exclaimed mama, a fire roaring in her voice.
“Miranda called me a big head, Mami.”
“Miranda!”
Neli’s eyes turned into clouds. Water started falling out of them fast. “Then she did something even worse. She called me that in Spanish. She called me a cabezona!”
“Miranda, did you call your sister a cabezona?” Mama’s voice was stern.
I didn’t want to answer. I knew I was in trouble. “Yeah,” I finally said.
“She calls me that all the time,” Neli asserted. I could barely understand her with her voice in a sob.
“She calls me Little Miss Perfect,” I shot back.
Mama was really upset now. “What have I told you about calling each other names?”
“That it’s bad,” I murmured with my head down.
“Mijas, don’t you understand that you hurt people when you call them names?”
“I hate it when Neli calls me Little Miss Perfect,” I garbled.
Neli wiped her tears with her sleeve. “Panfilo likes it when people call him Pifos.”
“If you had a name like Panfilo, you’d want to have a nickname too,” I asserted.
The three of us chuckled. Then my mama’s face grew serious again. She looked at Neli.
“Did you throw your sister’s clothes to the ground?” mama questioned, frowning.
Neli snapped open her mouth. “Yes, but—”
“There’s no excuse for this,” mama burst sternly, her hand on her hip.
Neli opened her mouth but nothing came out, so she shut it again. Tears dropped down her face as she rushed to mama and hugged her hard.
“It’s just not fair!” Neli exclaimed. “It’s not fair!”
Mama’s perplexed eyes looked at my sister. “What’s not fair?”
“Miranda got a big party, and next week for my birthday I’m getting nothing!”
Mama stroked her hair. “That’s not true, my cuddles. I told you we’d take you wherever you wanted to go.”
“Yes, but I want a party.” Neli was sobbing so hard I could barely understand her.
“Neli, you know that we can’t afford two fiestas. Next year for your twelfth birthday, you’ll be the one to have a big party.”
Neli grew pensive. “What if nobody comes?”
“Why wouldn’t they come?” asked mama.
Neli let out a huge whimper. “Nobody likes me.”
“That’s not true, my cuddles.”
“Mami, you like me, don’t you?” Neli’s pleading eyes were firmly on her.
“What kind of a question is that, Neli?”
“Everybody always likes Miranda. Everybody says she’s going to grow up to be somebody important. They don’t say that about me.”
Mama stepped over to the bed with Neli holding onto her. She and Neli plopped down while gesturing for me to sit too. I knew what she was going to do. Mama was going to teach us about ourselves. That’s what she called it when she gave us her special talks.
Mama cleared her throat before she started. “I’m going to tell you something that I want you to never forget. Neither of you is going to grow up to be important. You don’t grow up to be something you already are,” mama explained as she poked at Neli’s forehead, “and you can’t let other people stop you from living up to your own importance in here,” mama asserted as she pointed at her own heart. “You shouldn’t prevent other people from being important either. Neli, you shouldn’t do bad things to your sister.”
“I don’t mean to hurt her,” murmured Neli.
“Well, you do hurt me,” I burst with emotion.
Neli stared at the floor. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“Miranda has special gifts but so do you,” mama asserted. “Your responsibility, Neli, is to live up to those gifts.”
“What gifts, Mami?” Neli questioned, her voice in disbelief.
“My cuddles, you’re so smart.”
“No, I’m not,” Neli shot back quickly.
“Yes, sister,” I burst, “you are.”
Mama went on to explain to her how fast her mind worked but that she shouldn’t use it to hurt people. She also told Neli
about her creativity and beautiful voice. Then mama told us that we came from a wonderful history.
Our Mexican ancestry was great. Our indigenous ancestors were here before anybody. We gave the world chocolate!!! Isn’t that amazing? Neli and I ate chocolate all the time. We didn’t know it came from us.
Some of the foods found in what they called the new world were avocados, potatoes, tomatoes, pumpkins, and chile. Then there was chewing gum! It had come from us too! We were also amongst the first to use zero. Imagine what the world would be without zeros?!
“You have to live up to your greatness,” mama declared. “And don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not special.”
I looked at Neli—her eyes were wide open. I couldn’t believe it! She was actually listening.
“Remember that you’re warriors,” mama announced. “Your great, great grandmother was a soldadera in the revolution in Mexico. That’s right, she was a fighting soldier, and she did battle for her family and country. You have to make her proud in heaven and be good warriors like her.”
Mama told us that the Mexican revolution of 1910 was fought because the rich hacienda owners abused the poor campesinos. Great, great abuelita became a soldier and fought for justice. She was a good warrior.
Mama said that Neli and I could be good warriors by not letting anyone make us feel small. People can be insecure and make others feel tiny. If a mean person tells us something to make us feel bad, we can choose not to listen. The best warriors fought with their minds.
“The biggest wars are fought inside, mijitas,” mama declared. “We are made of many voices, ideas, and feelings. We’re made up of the past, present, and even the future. It takes a good warrior to look inside herself and see where everything came from. What do we listen to? What do we throw away? How do we live up to our greatness?”
I loved my mama’s special talks.
The biggest wars are fought inside.
I would remember those words.