Status Updates From The Cemetery of Untold Stories

“Listening to all these stories has opened so many windows in Filomena’s life…Even the disturbing ones that…confuse her - maybe someday she will understand them, too…So much sadness, so much wonder, so much joy. Her heart is messy with feelings, her mind with possibilities, twists and turns. It was simpler before. And yet, she would not go back. Now there is room in her heart for everyone, or most everyone.”

“Alma complains to Brava. The stories are still talking to her.
, now joined by other stories…¿Talvez me estoy volviendo loca?… Brava sighs in frustration. Mujer, stop thinking everything is a sign of illness. But there are so many! And there’s no more room in here. Alma taps her forehead. Then write them down, Brava advises… Paper can take it, even if Alma can’t.”

“Lucia’s father manages to obtain a personal pardon for me…by arguing that my earlier dissidence was just the reckless politics of youth…El Jefe doesn’t dare touch the oligarchs unless they mess with him, and none of them do. It’s not sycophancy as much as superiority. They’re above the dictatorship. Being in that bubble of privilege…proves to be another kind of exile. I can’t bear it.”

“At, Mamá, Filomena murmurs…On the radio…she hears a report of yet another moreno Americano killed on the streets. Eight minutes, forty-six seconds, the police held him down, and what did el pobre hombre cry out as he was dying? Momma, Momma - how they say Mamá in English. Jesús, too, cried out for his mother on the cross, according to Padre Regino. Even God needs a mother!”

“I want to reach out and slap that snug look from his face…Whst can my cousin know of despair or a mother’s devotion to her child? A confirmed bachelor with seven sisters and a doting mother, Joaquín doesn’t know how to give, only how to receive live. A man who will save himself above all else. The road to some people’s hearts only goes in one direction.”

“Marita, Pepito keeps pleading, remember: you are more than the worst thing you’ve ever done. Where did the boy learn to talk like that? Lovely words on a high shelf Perla cannot reach to avail herself of their beautiful comfort. He probably got them from a book as well. This is not the end, Marita. Te lo prometo. As if that is anything someone can promise. Perla looks at her son, a look that does not need words”

“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard about me , the voice continues. Filomena can’t say she’s heard of this woman…settles for the noncommittal, I don’t listen to gossip, Doña. That is how the devil spreads its lies. The plaster face softens with relief, the hair relaxes… It’s a blessing not to be judged. To be seen with the eyes of love. Así es, doesn’t Filomena know it.”

“Attracted by rumors about the marvels within, locals begin sneaking in at night…using cover of darkness and Florian’s fire ladder, which he rents out for a small fee…Like the tigueritos at the autocine… scaling walls to watch the beautiful Salma Hayek as Minerva get murdered by SIM in El Tiempo de las Mariposas.”
Usually I’d dislike an author name-dropping their own book inside a different novel; here it works!

“A sign goes up on the wall at the main gate. EL CEMENTERIO DE LOS CUENTOS NUNCA CONTADOS. A cemetery for untold stories. The only way to enter is to speak into a small black box at the front gate.?Cuéntame, a woman’s soft voice requests. Tell me a story. Only then does the door open, or not.”