Around the World

In a land far away, but not far enough that the Post Office can’t reach, a small lady sweetly signs off her lengthy letter to her goddaughter with a flourish. A fatal error on her part, for that same flourish just made the postal worker more confused as to where this random old lady wanted her letter to go. If he turned it to the right, the address looked like Mexico. If he turned it to the left, it looked like the U.S.A. Unlucky for our little lady, the postal worker couldn’t care less as to who this was posted to. One coin flip later, this letter ended up in Mexico.

María Diaz, not Maria Diaz, woke up that morning in Mexico to find a strange, barely readable letter from someone she didn’t know.

“Did you get the mail? Were there any Christmas cards?” Her mother loved Christmas time, and even though it was November, the house was already fully decorated for Christmas. Every second of the day “Feliz Navidad” was played throughout the house.

“No, but someone sent me something.”

“Really? Read it out loud!” María’s mother, Luisa, turned the volume down on “Feliz Navidad”, a truly rare occurrence.

“Dear Maria, I know you are at a point in your life where you still have a chance to change. A place to be better. I know you have always loved my little games, so we will play one once again. Call me if you want to play. Love, Susana Cruz,” María paused for a minute, “Do you know Susana Cruz?”

“I think she was a foreign exchange student at my high school.” María’s mother took out an old yearbook. Inside was a number signed Susana XOXO. (+1) 234-567-8910, an American phone number was right above the signature.

“Mamá, did you and Susana date?” María turned to look at her mother smiling sheepishly.

“I’m a Christian woman! Of course I couldn’t date another girl,” she whispered just quietly enough so María wouldn’t hear, “but if things had been different I would have.”

“If you say so Mamá. Anyways, I’m going to call Susana to see what’s up.”

Luisa looked off into the distance, remembering all the days she and Susana spent together. It was never meant to be, two women together just weren't right. She blasted “Feliz Navidad”, Susana 's favorite song. They were so happy, especially during Christmas. They giggled over lighting up the tree. They sang Christmas songs like there was no tomorrow. They watched the sun set as the angel topper lit up the sky. She made Luisa feel happy for once, unlike Luisa’s husband. He was probably cheating on her right now.

Meanwhile, María called Susana’s number. Was she really ready to meet her mother’s “friend”, probably not, but her curiosity consumed her.

“Hello! Is this Susana Cruz?”

“No, idiot. My name is Maria. Who are you? Why do you have my number? Why do you want my godmother?” This rude American girl had the same name as María. Was this who the letter was meant for? Or did Susana know that Luisa would name her daughter the same thing subconsciously, María thought.

“I am María Diaz. I believe your godmother sent me a letter, and I am trying to figure out why—“

“That sounds like one of her stupid games. Her new number is (+1) 098-765-4321. Good luck.” American Maria hung up the phone.

“What a brat”, María thought to herself, and she called Susana’s number.

“Hello, are you Susana Cruz?”

“Yes, may I ask for your name? I apologize, I don’t have your contact saved.”

“My name is María Diaz.”

“You don’t sound like my goddaughter. Oh, I know. My letter must have gone to wherever you are instead of my goddaughter. I’m sorry. This has all been a huge misunderstanding.”

“I’m Luisa’s daughter—“

“Luisa Diaz? The love of my life? Perhaps this hasn’t been a misunderstanding at all. Maybe my letter was meant to bring us together? Can you please give the phone to her so I can hear her voice again?”

Luisa had already recognized Susana’s voice, and she snatched it away from her daughter.

“Susana, it’s really you! I’ve missed you so much. Did you do it? Did you really name your child María like we promised when we were younger?”

“Actually, I learned I’m infertile, so I can’t have a child. I just heavily suggested my goddaughter be named Maria.”

“And just like I predicted, it brought us together again,” then Luisa said quietly, “We were brought together just to be forced apart.”

“Please. Run away with me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t. Being with you means I have to give up my family, my religion, my home.”

“Does that truly matter if you aren’t happy?”

Luisa had a flashback of her and her family. Her mother towered over her as her mother questioned her about her relationship with Susana and other girls before Susana. “Luisa, it’s not right for a woman to be with another woman. You’ll be sent to hell forever. Torture forever.” Her mother sent her to conversion camp after that conversation.

Every one of those girls weren’t “turned straight” they couldn’t. Even if they had suppressed their feelings, it was still there deep inside of them. Susana had found those feelings, and she didn’t make Luisa feel bad or guilty. She brought those feelings to the light, but she didn’t shame her.

Luisa often thought of the life she could have had if she did run off with Susana. It was beautiful.

After a long silence, Luisa began to speak, “Can we truly be free in America?”

“No, but we will be together.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Luisa’s husband came home from cheating on her. He kissed Luisa on the cheek.

“Hi honey. Why do you have tears on your cheeks? Is everything okay?” Her husband cleared the tears off her cheeks.

“I want a divorce.” Luisa knocked his hand off her face.

His concerned look instantly dropped. A frown appeared across his face. “I knew this would happen. At least say you cheated on me with another man.”

“I’ll send you the divorce papers in the morning.”

María chirped, ”Can I come with you?”

“Of course, mija,” Luisa mumbled to herself, “Unfortunately, I doubt he would want you anyway”

Who knew that a lazy postal worker, two daughters named Maria and María, and a godmother with bad handwriting would lead to two women coming together after two decades, and a family being created in the process