Free Tarnished Beauty by Cecilia Samartin Page A

counters. Jamilet was familiar with this; the handiwork of rats, and from what she could see, they’d been cohabiting comfortably with her aunt for some time.
    Carmen plowed straight through the obstacles in her way, kicking whatever trash she encountered this way and that as she headed for the refrigerator. She swung open the door with a jerk and retrieved a can of beer. Then she stepped aside, raising her eyebrows as an invitation to Jamilet, who politely declined. Carmen didn’t bother closing the door before she popped the tab, and swigged down half the beer in one swallow. She finished it with another large gulp, tossed the empty can on the counter, and popped open another before slamming the door shut.
    â€œNow,” she said as genteelly as she could, “I feel human again.”
    She pushed a pile of newspapers off the counter stools and onto the floor, inviting Jamilet to sit. She herself experienced some difficulty with this maneuver as she slid her ample bottom up and over the seat.
    â€œSo,” she said, stifling a burp, which caused her eyes to water. “Now that you’re here, what are your plans?”
    Jamilet still held her little bundle close. She was shocked by her surroundings, but nonetheless exhilarated by the question. No one had ever asked her such a thing before. Her life’s course seemed always to have been predetermined by the chili plants, the remoteness of the village, and the mark. “I want to get a job,” she replied.
    â€œThe old lady expects you to send money home, too, does she?”
    â€œSome, but I’m going to save most of it.”
    â€œYeah? What for?” Her saucy brown eyes were reading into every second it took Jamilet to respond.
    â€œI want to save money for…for the future.”
    Carmen narrowed her eyes, not quite convinced. “Don’t think you’re getting a free ride here or anything.”
    â€œI’ll pay my way,” Jamilet said, delighted that her aunt would let it go at that. She was one of the few who’d actually seen the mark, but it was easy to see how her new life in the north had reshuffled her memory. In this place it wasn’t necessary to know about the best time to plant corn. One could survive without remembering that on the way to the market you should walk in the shade, not only because it was cooler, but because it was also the best way to avoid the snakes, who preferred the sunny spots. Jamilet was tantalized by the possibility that details about her mark were not among her aunt’s scattered collection of memories. Could it be that she’d forgotten about it altogether? Jamilet felt a glimmer of hope. To be hundreds of miles away from anyone who knew about the mark was the closest thing to a cure she’d ever experienced.
    â€œLet me show you around,” Carmen said brightly, beer still in hand as she slid off the stool. She led the way out of the kitchen and through the living room with Jamilet following close behind. “I didn’t have time to fix up your room, so don’t get all excited.”
    Carmen stopped at the last door at the end of the hallway and flipped on the light. The room was the size of a large closet. It was crammed from floor to ceiling with boxes, shoes, and old clothes. So many layers of dust had settled on top of everything that it all appeared to be draped with a thin gray blanket. In the far corner, propped up against the wall, was a stained and mottled mattress.
    â€œI use this room for storage,” Carmen said as she shoved the box closest to her away with her foot. “Most of this stuff I probably don’t need anymore.”
    Jamilet attempted to find a pleasant place to rest her gaze, aware that Carmen was watching her, but she was well-practiced at hiding her feelings. She’d learned long ago how to keep the muscles of her face relaxed, and her eyes steady and calm, even when a storm of emotion was raging inside her. At