Ortiz

Prologue

When I was little, my mother would teach me things. She taught me to properly cook a meal that would serve and satisfy thirteen. She taught me how to behave when strangers came over, though those visits were very rare. She taught me to play nice with my siblings, to play even nicer with my cousins, and to not play at all with the kids down the hill. Sometimes she’d tell me what the leaves at the bottom of my teacup meant, or interpret the scraps of food that had been left on my plate. On rainy days I’d watch her read cards and she’d teach me about what they signified, though I mainly just enjoyed looking at their pictures. The things she said they predicted always frightened me, but I couldn’t help but be fascinated as well. Auntie Sapha would pitch in, too. She used to tell my siblings and cousins and me wonderful stories, ones about princesses and princes who were carried by dragons to kingdoms in the sky where they could live happily ever after. Auntie Sapha would often tease my mother, and although Mother always seemed very stern about it, I could tell that she was enjoying herself and loved her sister, loved all of us, very much. My cousins and siblings and I all loved Mother and Auntie Sapha back, loved their lessons, their stories, their wisdom. They were our role models; they were intelligent, they were kind, and they were perfect.

Of course that was all long ago, when I was a child still plagued by naïveté. I remember how it used to be, before I grew up, our happy family in our house on the hill. Nonna and Nonno, living peacefully in their old age. Mother and Father, content with the life they had made for each other. Auntie Sapha and Uncle Perkos, still schoolchildren at heart. My cousins, Wren, Thasha, and Nemmie, so witty and fun. My siblings, Ramona, Ernessa, and Clement, all so smart and sweet. Though we are still family, we are not all together anymore, and we are far away from happiness. The Ortiz’s haven’t been happy for a very long time, and we’ll continue on this way until someone can fix us.