When I Was Puerto Rican - Esmeralda Santiago [57]
“Ah,” she said, “here is our little angel.”
She put both hands on my shoulders and kneeled so we could be the same height.
“My name is Nicasia. The lady behind me is the baby’s mother. Do you know her?”
Doña Cony looked familiar. I nodded at Nicasia’s green eye. She looked behind me at my mother.
“Thank you for letting your daughter do this. The Good Shepherd will repay your kindness.”
She stared at me. I didn’t know which of her eyes to look into.
“Are you a little scared?” she asked.
I nodded.
“It is good to be afraid of what you don’t understand.” She closed her eyes.
Her fingers pressed into my shoulders, her nails dug into my skin. I wanted to turn around, to find Mami, but I couldn’t move my head. I could only look into the knot on Nicasia’s turban.
“Dear Lord, bless this child. Bless her and protect her.”
Doña Cony joined the prayer. “¡Aleluya! Let Him be adored!” Behind me, Mami breathed hard.
“Dear Virgin, Protectress of Little Children, bless this child.”
“Yes, Virgencita, protect all the children.”
“Dear Lord, bless and protect this woman who has brought us her child to perform this sacred duty.”
“Bless her, Lord. And her whole family.”
Nicasia’s eyes were filmy, the lids half covering her pupils. She looked up and scanned the space behind me, where the baby’s coffin was. She hummed and nodded her head, as though agreeing with somebody, but there was no one there. Just the dead baby. She stared at me again, and her face melted. I couldn’t take my eyes off hers. They were so big I could see myself. She let her head fall to her bosom, took a deep breath, and shook all over.
“You have a powerful spirit protecting you. It’s always there watching. It takes care of you so that nothing bad can happen. You need not be afraid.”
My knees rattled. I wanted to float away, or to fly outside the window, but I couldn’t. Nicasia held me down with her strong fingers.
“It’s your guardian angel.” She opened her eyes wide. “Do you know what a guardian angel is?”
I nodded. She smiled. Her two front teeth were trimmed with gold.
“Very good. Are you ready?”
I nodded again. My voice was scared.
Nicasia pressed against my shoulders harder as she stood up from kneeling. Her bones cracked and rattled, as though there were no one inside the long white dress. She led me to the table. There was a white carnation with a small white rosary wrapped around it. Nicasia gave it to me.
“Hold this in your left hand.” She wrapped the dangling ends of the rosary around my wrist.
The coffin was covered with a mosquito net. Doña Cony removed it, and Nicasia turned me toward the baby. I didn’t want to look at it, but I did. It was a small baby, dressed in white christening clothes with ruffles and ribbons and lace. It was smiling. Its eyes were grey with almost no whites. There was nothing inside them.
Nicasia took my right hand and dipped it into a bowl of water.
“This is holy water,” she said.
I pulled my hand away. I was afraid the holy water would burn my fingers. But Nicasia stuck my hand back in and held it there. The holy water felt cool and soft.
Nicasia held my hand above the baby’s face and tucked my thumb, ring, and little fingers into my palm.
“Just hold your fingers like this and listen to the prayer. When I tap you on the shoulder with the rosary, you put your fingers on the baby’s lids and hold them down until I tap you again.”
I nodded. The sun splashed in the door and hit my legs but didn’t warm the rest of me. Mami stood behind me, breathing quietly. I tried to follow her breath, my eyes closed so that I wouldn’t have to look at the baby’s empty face.
Nicasia mumbled words I didn’t understand. Doña Cony clicked her rosary and whispered “Amen” every once in a while. Nicasia tapped me on the shoulder lightly. I opened my eyes and let my fingers rest on the baby’s lids and held them there as Nicasia continued her foreign prayer. The baby’s skin was cold. His eyes felt like egg yolks. If I pressed hard, they would pop.
Nicasia tapped me on the shoulder and I took my hand away.