Santos & Rufina (2023)
by Yeiry Guevara
Part 1 of 3

King Dollar had the top billing marquee on the pylon found in Woodridge Plaza. Located on 6969 Gulf Freeway, the plaza was a strip mall off of Woodridge and I-45 North, in a neighborhood more commonly known as Pecan Park. King Dollar once promised “nothing over $1.09” per a marquee under their storefront name.

Mami and Tia Ruchis loved going there. Unlike other dollar stores in the neighborhood, King Dollar actually lived up to its name because it carried goods por un dólar. The electronic “ding” of the entrance door bell welcomed customers as soon as they walked in. The silver labyrinth of stanchions kept the shopping carts inside the store but somehow, a few forged ahead and bled out into the parking lot. Pushing past the metal moat, flooding the stage left were inventory boxes of seasonal home decor. Crispy Christmas wreaths. Glittered Halloween pumpkins. Fake Valentine’s Day flowers. Depending on the month, all holidays were competing for overcrowded retail floor space por un dólar.

As Mami’s #1 shopping partner, Tia Ruchis had the most endurance to pound the pavement for low prices. She stood less than five feet tall, soft spoken with a pillow of soft elder curls on top of her head and an infinitely pensive expression. A delantal always hung at her waist which kept all her secrets hidden at arm’s length. Tia Ruchis was a woman of few words but full of numbers. Long distance phone numbers. Balances on international calling cards. The dates when her nephew viajero was going to visit. The number of pupusas Bimbi sold out of her kitchen. How much people owed her. How much she owed people. The inventory levels of her merch. The only count she didn’t keep were the hours shopping alongside Mami.

Mami and Tia Ruchi did their usual lap when they arrived at King Dollar. Mami gravitated towards the candles, diligently reading the prayers for each of the Saints. Selecting a Saint is serious business when there are so many affordable options. Past the chromatic party supplies and the off-brand toys was Tia Ruchi’s favorite spot at King Dollar: Kitchen/houseware items. Bowls of all sizes, materials, and designs stacked inside each other like functional matryoshka dolls. Glass dinner plates. Mugs shaped like golf balls for Father’s Day. Bright pink plastic colanders.

Tia Ruchi’s one bedroom apartment was a selling post for her nephew viajero’s queso duro and her niece’s famous pupusas. Bimbi would spend hours pounding lumps of masa and consistently cooking perfectly shaped discs of revueltas in that tiny smoky kitchen. Between both entrepreneurs, kitchen items were replaced constantly. Chipped plates or cracked cups are mal agüero. No one can afford that bad luck. King Dollar offered a plethora of mediums to combat all bad spirits in dishwares.

Passing through the kitchenware were the school supplies. Tia Ruchis always asked Mami si las cipotas needed anything for school. A college lined notebook? A set of waxy crayons? Neon bouquet of highlighters? Agarraselos, sin pena. The two of them were always looking out for each other. Tia Ruchis was the madrina of a quinceañera dress for one of Mami’s daughters. Mami evacuated Tia Ruchis when Hurricane Rita threatened Houston, the storm right after Katrina that summer. They shopped on Hillcroft Ave. when they went into business together selling colchas at wholesale prices to their networks. Tigers, eagles, deers in plastic bags were loaded up in the car, as the Spanish-speaking Asian wholesaler chatted them up every Saturday morning. They took turns treating each other for lunch after a full day of shopping. Either at their preferred Chinese buffet on Hillcroft Ave. or Tia Ruchis’ favorite spot, Taco Bell on Wayside Dr.

Over their lifetime, the cousins formed a sisterhood of collective care and mutual aid. Cuando a una le faltaba, la otra tenía. The level of resourcefulness they created to navigate these southern bayou waters is mind blowing. The level of hustle they respectively took on to ensure that their people were taken care of, through Western Union and colones. They empowered each other through their own small gestures of compassion:

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Do the girls need anything from here?”

“Here are a few bucks for the gas”

“Take some mangos for the house”

When home is a feeling and birthplace is a thousand miles away, where do the feelings go? The adobe walls that raised them were crumbling under the distance of memory and civil war strife. They found ways, in each other, to alleviate the uprooting of a family tree. The hard landing of a forced political displacement was softened through these gentle acts of service. As community care, as self-care, as survival. Mami and Tia Ruchis modeled these concepts through their actions.

Calling to check-in.

Grabbing two refills of a Mountain Dew Baja Blast.

Sharing tamales, along with queso duro and fresh stack of revueltas for dinner that night. Don’t forget the curtido y salsa.

One set of doors at King Dollar served as both the entrance and exit. The registers for check-out were past the Virgen de Guadalupe rose-scented incense and cell phone car chargers. Flattened helium balloons lined the wall like silver pogs in neat rows. Mami and Tia Ruchis would combine their items on the check-out counter. A new bowl that was perfectly sized for bags of alborotos. A set of metal spoons. Ribbons for baby shower decorations Mami was going to make for a pregnant co-worker. One receipt. No tabs. No fights over who pays. Never. One grabs it, the other grabs the next one because there will always be a next time.

Por un dólar, King Dollar offers many Saints to save you.

However, some Saints are closer than imaginable.