Paint wasn’t her only errand of the day; she could only hope the next one would yield much better results.Clutching her satchel close, she journeyed deeper through the mercado.She passed stands selling fresh plantains, limes, and mangoes along with finely ground pungent spices.Vibrantly patterned serapes for sale dangled from wires above.The curandera sat in the next stall over, preparing her healing herbs.Nearby, a man was offering his nosy mules to the highest bidder.He screamed and cursed as one of the mules floated away.A group of snickering kids scurried off.One of them tossed an empty potion bottle onto the street.
Mayté frowned.Children so young shouldn’t have been allowed to play with potions.One of these days, an accident was sure to happen.A guard clad in a green-and-red uniform stood idly nearby, his golden helmet reflecting the harsh sunlight.He barely blinked at the unfolding chaos.Guards like him only cared about keeping President Juan Manuel Hernández happy.Likewise, the corrupt president only cared about being in good standing with the wealthiest nobles and most influential clergy.A couple of street kids flirting with danger were of no concern to any of them.
Mayté passed a religious stand selling rosary beads, prayer candles, and blessed charms dedicated to Los Santos.They always stocked up on ones for San Amor, San Fortuno, and Santa Prosperidad.The neighboring stand belonged to the bruja.She was clad in a white dress with red and blue patterns, offering encantos and tarot readings.
A horse-drawn carriage sped by, almost trampling a man crossing the street.The man cursed, which in turn agitated agroup of men eating street tacos.Mayté got out of the way just as a fistfight broke out.Fried corn tortillas, soft lengua, and reddish al pastor meat dropped to the ground.What a waste.At least the seagulls would get a feast.Already a group of the white birds had landed and begun to devour the tacos.
Just another day in Milagro.
With a squawk, the seagulls flew off toward the distant mountains.
Some people wished they could turn into a bird and fly away from their problems, but Mayté wished for the seagulls to carry away her problems instead.
She rounded the corner, and the sizzling scent of elote hit her nose.Señor Vásquez must have just started a fresh batch.Her heart pounded in anticipation as she approached the stall.Señor Vásquez swayed over the steaming corncobs, sprinkling chile and cotija cheese on top.As he spun, he skillfully squirted fresh lime over everything.A true artist.Everything about the stout man sparked with joy.His big curly head of hair and bigger grin.His round face, rich and dark with ruddy undertones, beamed as bright as the sun.His teeth may have been yellowing, and deep furrows hung around his eyes, but these just added to his lively air.Joy like that couldn’t be contained.Despite everything that had happened at the shop, Mayté couldn’t stop grinning.
“Buenos días.I have something for you.”Gingerly she reached into her satchel and pulled out a wooden sign.Bright-green painted letters read:FRESH ELOTES3BRONZE COINS.Below the letters she had painted a corncob.It had been quite fun sprinkling on red paint to represent the chile.She had tweaked it for hours, until looking at it made her stomach tingle with hunger.Only then did she know it was ready.
“Oh.How wonderful!”Señor Vásquez leaned over the counter to study the sign.“Thank you, thank you!”
“Of course!”This project may have been small fish compared to the commission, but maybe the payment would be enough to buy paint from one of the stalls.They weren’t as good quality as the ones sold in the shop, and it was always a toss-up on which colors would be in stock that day, but she would make it work.
“Well, you see, I won’t be able to pay you in coins this time.”
Oh.
“I still owe you, of course.”With a sheepish smile, Señor Vásquez took the sign and set it on the counter.
Everything inside her deflated, but she tried not to let it show on her face.It would be hypocritical to get upset.“Ay, this sign will bring you more business and you’ll be able to pay me in no time!”
“Sí, sí!”Señor Vásquez brightened.“But in the meantime, I’ll give you this.Elote on me and”—he ducked down, disappearing under the counter—“a potion.My sister-in-law brewed it just last night, and she really knows her stuff, you know?Why, last month she made a love potion for our cousin, and now the lucky fellow is getting married!”
“Really?”There were always several vendors in the mercado selling potions for cheap and promising miracles, but it was a gamble whether they truly worked.As they said, “You get what you pay for,” and only the wealthy had access to the reliable stuff.
“Here.”
Mayté took the bottle and turned it in her hands.It was made of clay—no way to tell what was inside.“What kind is it?”she asked.Icy-blue No Más Tristeza elixir would brighten her mood.Dame Energía looked rather unpleasant with its bouncing chartreuse slime, but it would give her the boost sheneeded to keep going for the rest of the day.Really, she would take almost any kind of potion except for Joven Para Siempre.That stuff made her squirm since it was thick and deep crimson, like blood.
“This”—Señor Vásquez rubbed the palms of his beefy hands—“is Una Pizca de Suerte.”
A pinch of luck was something she could use.“Thank you.”Mayté uncorked the bottle and guzzled the potion as Señor Vásquez prepared elote for her.Fizzy and sweet with a metallic aftertaste, it stung her throat on the way down.She put the empty bottle in her satchel as he handed over a cob on a stick.
Wasting no time, she took a big bite, not bothering to wipe the juice running down her chin.Sweet corn, spicy chile, salty cheese, and sour lime had to be the most irresistible combination.
A spark of gratitude tickled her insides.Elote was always a comfort—a welcome treat on the bad days or a relief from hunger when there wasn’t enough food at home.Her five brothers always had to eat before her—the unspoken law of the Robles family.Which made that new shopkeeper’s assumptions even more infuriating.She couldn’t depend on her family.Never had.Never would.It wasn’t fair to lump her with them, not when she was the one fending for herself.
She took another big bite, throat burning.Whether it was from her lingering fury or the spicy chiles was debatable.Elote might briefly fix some problems, but not this one.Mayté didn’t want to go home and face the unfinished canvas.Ordeal with her family.Her father always left as soon as he woke up, while her mother cooked and tended to her younger brothers.Maybe in a normal family she would have been able to cry about her woes to her mother, but no, all the sympathy had been wrung out of the woman years ago.Now she was dry and brittle.Shewouldn’t bat an eye or offer a hug.Instead, she would just say “Así es la vida.”But that wasn’t the life Mayté wanted.She refused to accept it.
“It’s back!It’s back in Milagro,” a man yelled as he ran down the street.
Mayté turned.Carriages stopped.Shop owners stepped away from their stalls.Everyone spoke all at once.
“Appeared at midnight.”
“Could it be real?”
“It must be.Don’t you remember what happened ten years ago?”
Ten years ago.
