Sample Response
At the little restaurant gas-pump on the way out of town, Mate and I went inside to get a refreshment while Minerva called home. I could see her pacing back and forth, waiting for Mamá or Dedé to answer. I could picture them there with all the kids, trying to get them ready for bed. Noris, my little rosebud, was probably helping out, especially with her baby brother Raulito. The Virgencita had answered my prayers, and Noris was growing into a beautiful young woman, full of love and compassion. And stubborn, too! Like that time she insisted on helping to clean the church with Dedé and me. ¡Ay, Dios mio! I couldn't wait to see my precious daughter tonight. She would never be too old for my hugs and kisses.
Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.
Mate and I went outside with our drinks to sit at the little tables. "Still busy," Minerva said, when she joined us. There was frustration in her voice.
"Give it another five minutes," I tried to reason with her. Minerva gave me a look that said "I'm not a child." She never was! Just shy of 12, she had already convinced Papá to let her go to Inmaculada Concepción with me, even though it should have been Dedé, a whole year older. Minerva always had a mind of her own, and my boy Nelson was just like his aunt. The evening I found him shouting '¡Cuba libre!' with Minerva, Manolo, and Leandro, I knew there was no stopping him. I tried for as long as I could to protect him. Oh my boy, who came running down the hills with his father, my Pedrito, to protect his family. It would be me running into Nelson's arms later tonight.
Blessed art thou amongst women
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
"¡Epa!" Mate exclaimed after Minerva's announcement that she would get a beer after all. I laughed while watching my little sister sip her lemonade through a straw. Mate. Who would have thought our youngest sister, once afraid of spiders and worms, would become one of the leaders of a revolution? When she was released from prison, I could see that it had changed her. Not in a bad way. No, it had only filled our sweet sister with more love. Love for Leandro, for Jacqui, for her nieces and nephews, for her three sisters and Mamá, love for all those suffering under Trujillo. How much love could fit inside a person, I wondered.
"I give up. I think we should just go," Minerva said when she returned with her
beer.
"I promised Jacqui I'd tuck her in tonight," Mate said to us while sucking the last of
her lemonade through the straw.
I looked up at the mountain. One, two, three mountains and then we would be safe at home. "I feel a little uneasy," I responded. "I mean that road is so–deserted." I sounded like Dedé who had been so worried earlier today as we piled into the Jeep. Dedé, my rock and salvation when my family was taken to prison. Minerva always gave Dedé a hard time about her courage, but I'll never forget how she flew into action in those days after the roundup, praying the rosary with me to ease my fears. Have I properly thanked my dear sister for bringing me back to life? I would have to do so later tonight when we arrived home.
Minerva interrupted my thoughts. "I say we go," she said again.
Just then, a Public Works truck pulled into the station, and three men got out. One went off to use the bathroom and the other two ordered pork fries. At one point, he turned around and saw us, the three Mirabal sisters, before jumping back into the truck with the other one.
Their friend named Tito came running from behind the pump as the truck inched forward, pretending to leave without him. My sisters and I turned to each other and laughed. These silly men in the truck would be on the mountain road with us. Suddenly, I didn't feel as uneasy as I had before.
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
I just wanted to be home laughing with my babies, my nieces and nephews, Mamá and Dedé. We had been through so much, but we still had each other because Mamá and Papá had built their house upon a rock.
"What do you say?" Minerva asked, already standing and ready to go. Never could get her to sit, that one. It would be like asking Jesus Christ not to do his Father's will.
Minerva had long ago lost her faith, but I still had mine. The Virgencita had always been there with me through my most trying times: losing my pearl of great price, at the altar at Higüey, at the attack at the mountain retreat, and when my family was in prison. She was my strength and my guide, helping me endure, as she did, through the most challenging circumstances. I knew she would be there again to guide us safely over the mountain.
"Let's just go," I announced. I closed my purse with a snap.
Pray for us sinners,
Now and at the hour of our death.
The three of us ran towards the Jeep, as if we were going to chase down the truck whose brake lights in the darkness shone bright red like flamboyants.
Amen.
Paragraph Explanation:
I chose to rewrite the final scene on pages 295–297 between Patria, Minerva, and Mate at the gas station from the perspective of Patria. In the original scene, Patria says she is "a little uneasy" (296) and shows hesitancy in her face. At the end of the scene, though, she "closed her purse with a decisive snap" and said, "Let's just go" (297). I decided that the only thing that could change Patria's mind like that is her faith and trust in prayer. In all of Patria's chapters, biblical allusions and religious imagery abound, particularly of the Virgin Mary. I decided to infuse the rewritten scene with lines from the Hail Mary, similar to Chapter 10 in which Patria repeats the line "And on the third day He rose again…" As Patria arrives at the end of the Hail Mary, she decides that she will put her faith in the Virgin Mary to keep them safe on the deserted mountain road. The irony of the prayer, though, is that it concludes with the line, "pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death," which foreshadows that this trip will be fatal for Patria and her sisters.
I also chose to have Patria's thoughts be about her family throughout the scene. Patria's identity as a mother and sister is central to her character and so she thinks about Noris, Nelson, and the baby. The events in the present also lead her to think about her sisters. By doing this, I maintained the reflective and introspective tone of Patria's voice. I also wanted to show that Patria has hope of returning to her family at the end of the novel. Armed with her sisters and her faith, she feels certain that they will arrive home safely. Finally, I incorporated the image of the flamboyants at the end of the scene. That image was an important one when Patria was at school and maturing into adolescence. I decided to bring this image back at this other transitional moment, when Patria will pass from life into death.