The Moonlit Vine: Prologue–Chapter 7

Higüamota wiped her face in vain. She knew her mother had already seen her outward display of emotion.

In the waning light, Higüamota thought her mother’s face looked like the faces of the elders etched into the cave walls.

Anacaona meant “golden flower,” and she had always welcomed visitors with a bounty of meat, fish, corn, yucca, yautia, and tobacco. Some thought her to be too generous, too free, but Higüamota had also seen her mother as a fierce warrior, using her spear to spark fear in their enemies.

Usually, Anacaona would place her favorite flower, the hibiscus, in her thick, long hair. But today, her hair hung unadorned, and red paint was smeared across her face.

They have more powerful weapons and have perfected cunning; therefore, they think they are superior.

As soon as they kidnapped Caonabo, I had this made in the likeness of a frog to show fertility, but with a human face to show your father’s dignity and wisdom.

After he was executed, I went to the shamans and had them incorporate some of my lifeblood into it as a symbol of our struggle.

I had the shamans extract my own strength and that of all the warriors who have come before me to place within the amulet.

It’s the only way for us to survive now. We must hide, assimilate, learn.

Anacaona closed her eyes, allowing the luminescence of the moon to fill and exalt her features.

Anacaona placed her fingers on Higüamota’s cheek and said, “You tell your daughter that our people are the light that makes the night sky bright. We are the music that warms the heart and blesses the soul. We love proudly and we love fiercely. This is our power. You tell your daughter to never give up this power because one day we will rise and thrive again. Of this I am absolutely sure.”

The moon deserted Ty. She searched for it through her bedroom window, but it was obscured by clouds, only occasionally peeking through to show a glimpse of itself.

Crossing her arms against her slim frame, Ty raised an eyebrow and challenged, “What?” It was the same look and stance she’d seen many of the women in her family adopt when they were bothered.

Ty loudly sucked the back of her front teeth and rolled her eyes. She had plenty more attitude to give, even though they’d been arguing for an hour.
“Mira, Ty,” her mother said, ignoring Ty’s not so subtle messages.

As Ty contemplated whether to pursue the touchy subject of her father, Esmeralda grew silent, looking beyond Ty toward the window.

Ty was transfixed by Principal Callahan’s continued rocking in his chair. The constant body movements lulled her into a calm she shouldn’t be feeling, especially now, but she was tired.

“Thank you,” she said and made her way out of the beige room and into the main office, where she contemplated her next move.

The school corridor was flanked by lockers and closed doors to classes that were still in session.

City Main High has zero personality, she thought for the hundredth time. To make matters worse, the overhead lights were never consistently on. Some worked fine while others flickered, giving the corridors a feeling of abandonment.

The gray motif continued into the girls’ bathroom. At least the walls were decorated with writing and drawings by girls who wanted to either brighten the place up or leave their mark.

The bell rang before she could respond, causing a cacophony of sound. Footsteps, loud voices, and laughter filled the air as the door to the bathroom swung open and other girls entered the space.

Ty tried to quell her annoyance. How am I going to get through this?

Abuela was nodding with that knowing, shrewd look she often wore and said, M’ija, sometimes you have to take people’s crap to keep the peace, but don’t ever let them conquer you.

“You around later?” he asked, taming a wayward loc.

Ty watched his stocky frame shuffle down the hall.

Ty bolted out of the room and into the desolate hallway, moving quickly toward the exit.

She quickly went around the car and across the street to a row of townhouses that comprised the Denton Street Apartments.

Ty assumed Abuela was in her bedroom as usual.

“Should I get Luis?” she asked while chewing. She wanted him back as a buffer.

He had kept Abuela’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis to himself until he died, but it had soon become evident that Isaura was in the throes of an incurable disease.

The fine lines along her face reminded Ty of the myriad of lines on the palms of her own hands.

Higüamota paused at a near imperceptible opening in the cave wall. The shadows made this entrance look like a simple crack in the rock but, as they drew near, it opened into a smaller chamber.

Guanina stared intently at it.

Who needs an alarm clock when you have a hyperactive younger brother? she mused.

Time with Luis made Ty miss her dad and Alex even more, but she could never get too melancholy with his dimples smiling at her.

Abuela had once told her that the trees had stories to tell if you let yourself listen. Ty had tried that once, but other sounds interrupted the communication. A car would drive down the street with its wheels whirring as it passed by, or a horn would blare in the distance, or a voice would bellow, making gaining knowledge from the foliage pretty challenging.

Her cousin had a collection of nail tips and polish that Ty coveted.

It caused a rift between the families that annoyed Ty to no end. She wanted to scream, can’t we all just get along!

“Your hair is like our other ancestors.”
Ty waited for her grandmother to elaborate, but she didn’t right away.

“There’s no box,” she said, moving resolutely into her bedroom and closing the door behind her—leaving Ty alone with only questions.