Free Girl in the Mirror by Mary Alice Monroe Page B

his face as severely chiseled as any Mayan statue. Of the three Mondragon children, only he’d been given a nasty push from behind by the local suburban boys after school.
    “We do not come together every Christmas,” began Luis, his dark eyes gleaming white against terra cotta skin as he stood at the table, a glass of wine held in a toast.
    “We are together—as a family should be.” His gaze scanned the family, one by one, settling firmly on Michael.
    “A la familia!”
    “To the family!” Michael replied in English, covertly catching Bobby’s amused glance.
    “You look good,” Bobby said later, his eyes openly appreciating Michael’s black jacket, crisp white shirt and knitted silk tie. Bobby had always been the sharp dresser and used to chide Michael pitilessly while growing up. “Armani, huh? Where are the worn jeans, the mismatched socks, and God…remember the leather jacket?”
    “Of course,” he replied with a wistful smile. “Wish I still had it.”
    When he was young he’d always worn a shirt, even in the summer, so his already dark skin wouldn’t darken more. He could still remember how hot and sweaty he got working in the yards, covered up, while watching pale-skinned boys run and play in cool T-shirts. He’d saved every penny he earned, not buying a candy or seeing a movie, in order to buy himself that leather jacket, and it had become a second skin.
    “Man, I loved that jacket.”
    “Maybe, but that one’s not too shabby. Los gringos in Chicago finally taught you how to dress?”
    Michael smiled, refusing to rise to the bait. Truth was, clothes didn’t matter to him in the least. As long as it was well cut and black, he was satisfied. What mattered to him was how pale and thin his brother looked. Bobby’s clothes hung from him as limply as from a wire hanger.
    “You feeling all right, big brother?” Michael leaned over and asked, concern in his lowered voice.
    A shadow flickered in Bobby’s eyes, then, as quickly, disappeared. “The flu,” he replied with a casual smile. His gaze darted to his mother. “It’s been going around.”
    “ Sí , it is terrible,” Marta exclaimed. “Everybody is getting it. One of those terrible new bugs. From China.” She crossed herself. “Be careful, Miguel, you don’t get it, too.”
    “Ha!” Bobby barked out a laugh.
    Luis glared at him, his spoon halted before his tightly closed lips. Bobby’s smile quickly vanished and he seemed to withdraw inwardly.
    After the four cakes were served and the coffee was poured, the family gathered around the tree, as they did every Christmas Eve, to hand out a few special “parent-child” gifts.
    “Bobby, you are eldest. You be Santa’s helper,” ordered Luis.
    “Glad to, Papa,” Bobby replied with enthusiasm.
    Michael watched with affection as his elder brother donned a red Santa’s cap and let loose a hearty round of “ho-ho-ho’s” before handing out the gifts. Although he made a pitifully thin Santa, Bobby was not above playing up the part for the sake of his niece and nephew. The children squealed with delight.
    “Enough! Don’t be a fool, horsing around,” Luis barked.
    Bobby’s shoulders drew back, but he smiled urbanely. “God bless us, everyone. Even you, old Scrooge.”
    Luis grumbled as he shifted in his seat.
    Bobby pressed on with enthusiasm, shaking the children’s gifts and making them guess. Everyone, save Luis, laughed and clapped as the children unwrapped their treasures. Instead, he sat with a bemused expression, watching as a king would his subjects.
    Later, when the children were playing with their toys, the adults cast surreptitious glances at the remaining few packages under the tree. Just as when they were children, they wondered what gifts their parents had selected for them this year.
    An awed hush fell in the room when Bobby opened his wrapping to find their great-uncle’s pocket watch nestled inside, the same revered uncle who’d left Luis the prime