“And will Ramón want you to sit beside him in the church as the bride of Quetzalcoatl—with some strange name?” Kate asked of Teresa.
“I don’t know,” said Teresa. “Later, he says, when the time comes for them to have a goddess.”
“And will you mind?”
“For myself, I am afraid of it. But I understand that Ramón wants it. He says it is accepting the greater responsibility of one’s existence. And I think that is true. If there is God in me, and God as woman, then I must accept this part of myself also, and put on the green dress, and be for the time the God-woman, since it is true of me also. I think it is true. Ramón says we must make it manifest. When I think of my brothers, I know we must. So I shall think of the God that beats invisible, like the heart of all the world. So when I have to wear the green dress, and sit before all the people in the church, I shall look away to the heart of all the world, and try to be my sacred self, because it is necessary, and the right thing to do. It is right. I would not do it if I thought it was not right.”
“But I thought the green dress was for the Bride of Huitzilopochtli!” said Kate.
“Ah yes!” Teresa caught herself up. “Mine is the black dress with the white edges, and the red clouds.”
“Would you rather have the green?” Kate asked. “Have it if you would. I am going away.”
Teresa glanced up at her quickly.
“The green is for the wife of Huitzilopochtli,” she said, as if numbed.
“I can’t see that it matters,” said Kate.