Salsa Stories by Lulu Delacre

“Esteban! Turn down the stereo,” Mamá calls to Papá from the kitchen. She swirls the chicken in its marinade with one hand, then answers the telephone with the other.
    Our house stirs with laughter and chatter as guests arrive, one by one. The cousins run noisily about our basement to the beat of salsa music that blares from speakers on two floors. In the dining room, Abuelito, Abuelo Jaime, Uncle Robert, and Papá click dominoes together, concentrating on each move of their game. They play with Abuelito’s lucky dominoes, the ones he brought with him from Cuba forty years ago.
    In the kitchen, my grandma Abita, our housekeeper Flor, and I rhythmically chop and slice. The rich, pungent scent of garlic cracking in olive oil rises from the stove. We are helping Mamá prepare the sofrito sauce for her arroz con pollo . This is the rice dish for which Mamá is famous among all our friends and family.
    Flor and Abita chatter away in Spanish, as theystruggle to hold back tears from the chopped onion. Flor tells Abita about the trip she will soon make to Guatemala for Holy Week.
    â€œI’ve been saving for over a year to visit my family,” she says. Flor has saved not only for her ticket, but also for the gifts she will bring to everyone from America: new jeans, walkie-talkies, a small TV, and the latest toys.
    Abita nods her approval.
    Above the din of music, children’s shouts, and clattering pots and pans, we miraculously hear the doorbell.
    â€œCarmen Teresa, get the door!” my little sister Laura calls from the basement stairs.
    â€œYou get it — please!” I shout back. “I’m busy.” I’m afraid that if I abandon my spot in the kitchen, I will lose it to someone else who is anxious to help. I love to cook, and when company comes, a good spot in Mamá’s kitchen is hard to come by.
    I watch Laura dash to open the door.
    â€œDoña Josefa!” she calls out, then flies into the old woman’s open arms.
    â€œ Feliz año nuevo, Laurita, ” Doña Josefa says, as she gives Laura a warm hug and a present. Doña Josefa is from Peru. She is one of the doctors from the free clinic where Mama volunteers. Mama always says Doña Josefa loves to dote on us since she has no children of her own.Laura thanks her for the gift, then steals into the dining room to open it.
    Doña Josefa finds me in the kitchen. She is holding a package wrapped in brown paper. Her leathery hands are a shade darker than the wrapping. She’s about to place the package into my open hands, but stops herself when she notices they are covered in cilantro. She takes the package back to the entrance and puts it on a small table instead.
    â€œFor after you clean your hands, Carmen Teresa,” she says.
    The last to arrive are Tía Marilia and Tío Rodolfo. They’ve brought bottles of coquito and the latest hits from Rubén Blades and Willie Colón.
    â€œWould you believe this?” Tía Marilia jokes, glancing at the guests. “All the men are enjoying themselves while the women slave in the kitchen. There are some old customs that not even life in the States can change!”
    Tía Marilia is my favorite aunt. She has such a quick wit, and when she is around, there is laughter everywhere.
    Suddenly, my sister tugs at my sleeve.
    â€œLook, Carmen, look what I got!” Laura shows me a beautiful cloth doll that Doña Josefa gave her. “Let me see yours, what did you get?”
    Curious to find out, I wash my hands and look for my gift. But it is not on the table where Doña Josefa left it. And no one is near the table except our little cousin Alex. When Laura sees him, she eagerly takes his hand and tries to play with him. But Alex has just learned to walk and he prefers to gleefully charge around the house.
    â€œLaura!” calls Abuelita. “The cinnamon!”
    Laura quickly forgets about Alex and my gift and runs to do her