Prologue: Rosa Rodriguez
March 15, 1975
“Every mother thinks her child is the most beautiful in the world”--Latin American saying
I’m no Europeña, none of this “life is suffering, and then you die” stuff for me. No, soy Mejicana, which means I believe life’s a struggle, and then there’s a fiesta. It’s why after the priest celebrates Mass we celebrate with food and fun. Then the drinking gets out of hand, and it’s hard to be married to a boracho like Roberto who smacks you around to have his fun. It’s what brought on early labor and almost killed my precious Angelica. We’re a happy people, we Mejicanos, except when it comes to love. That, we believe, is worth suffering for.
What helps is I’m Catholic, and I’m an astrologer. I see no conflict in this. Both honor God and utilize His divine guidance, and Dios mio, I could use some right now. It’s how the Spanish won converts when they came to Mexico. The priests matched every Indian festival with a fiesta and Mass of their own. I’m sure they hoped their new beliefs would replace the old. What they settled for was the two coexisting, side by side.
I’m no heretic. I go to the hospital’s chapel to pray. Then I go to the cafeteria with my Ephemeris and House of Tables to cast Angelica’s chart, and when I do it concerns me. It’s why I have to find Angelica’s astrological twin, that second soul born at exactly the same time and place as my daughter. Angelica’s gemela del alma will have a life that mirrors hers, and that’s the best kind of divine guidance I can imagine. The problem is the hospital staff thinks I’m nuts, running around, waking the new mothers who gave birth today, asking for the exact time of their child’s birth.
When Roberto discovers I’m not in my room, he comes after me, reeking of booze, accusing me of flirting with the women’s husbands. I calm him down by taking him to the nursery to admire our nena in her crib, beyond the thick wall of glass.
In the morning he leaves to hang out with the men on the corner near the hospital who wait for work. I go to the pay phone and call my cousin Silvia. After I tell her what brought on labor, she says that as soon as I’m released, I’m to take Angelica to LAX. She’ll pay our airfare to San Francisco. She’s right. I should leave Roberto, but not until I find Angelica’s astrological twin. Silvia suggests I widen my search, that once I get to her apartment she’ll help me. I agree only because Roberto is getting crazier by the minute. I tell her I cast Angelica’s natal chart, and like mine it is challenging. Silvia says that while she believes in astrology she thinks it’s not so much about fate as about free will. If I want a happy ending, I have to get away from Roberto and get Angelica away from him, too. I tell her it may take me a couple of days, but I’m coming. I won’t change my mind this time.
I find the hospital’s social worker, the one who gave me the card with the women’s shelter number on it. The social worker calls a counselor who insists I leave and go to their safe house immediately. I tell her okay, but first I must make a phone call.
