She considered her grandson’s opinion for a moment and shrugged it off. “You’ll get used to it,” she quipped, and then she brushed past him to go to the kitchen. She didn’t bother with the plug-in kettle that she normally used for her tea, and turned on the burner instead. It hadn’t been used for quite some time, and it took several attempts for it to light.
Meanwhile, Sebastian looked on in shock. “I…I won’t get used to it Abuela. I will never get used to your hair like that.”
Another shrug, “Well, you never know. People change,” she said and then she scrunched her nose up and winked at him, which made Sebastian shrink back even more. Lola had never been one for silly little gestures like that. He leaned forward to study her more closely. Those were definitely her eyes, and it was her nose and mouth and those were her wrinkles. But to see her familiar face crowned by this alien strawberry colored hair was almost as upsetting as seeing her sprawled out on the floor.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she snapped.
“Because you look so different,” he replied. “You don’t look like my Abuela Lola anymore.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as she steeped her tea bag. “Different doesn’t have to be bad does it?” she asked and then she tossed the tea bag into the trash, but she missed and it splattered against the side of the can, and slid down to the floor. Sebastian put the tea bag in the trash where it belonged, and followed her out to the porch. Once there, she sat in her metal chair and began to slurp her tea. Sebastian sat in the chair next to hers, as he usually did.
“I always wanted to have red hair,” she mused. “There was a young woman who lived in our apartment building in New York, and she had the most beautiful flaming red hair. Your grandfather couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Ever since then, I wondered how it would feel to have red hair.”
Sebastian could barely see his grandmother’s face for the wavy crimson mess that obscured it. “Well you definitely have red hair, Abuela,” he muttered.
A wide shameless grin spread across her face. “And it feels fabulous,” she said. “Even better than I thought it would. I should’ve colored it a long time ago. I believe that your grandfather would’ve been quite pleased.”
Sebastian turned away, no longer willing to talk about his grandmother’s ridiculous red hair. It was bad enough having to look at it.
Soon, they heard a familiar tapping noise, and Mr. Jones’s teetering figure appeared on the path, his face cut into a perpetual frown. He lived in the little blue house near the street and had the habit of slamming his cane down so forcefully that he’d worn off the rubber cap at the end. The crack of bare wood against concrete always signaled his approach. Sebastian had never seen him without his shabby fedora hat, and no matter how warm a day it was, the same gray moth-eaten sweater hung from his bony shoulders. Charlie’s wife had died three years ago. Since then he’d been visiting Lola regularly and bringing her small gifts, usually fresh fruit, although one time he brought her a bottle of mint flavored antacid because he complained that he didn’t like the taste.
He turned onto the path leading to Lola’s house and tipped his hat after which he continued pounding a few steps forward, his plastic bag at his side. For the first time, Sebastian was actually glad to see Charlie Jones as he had no doubt the old man would find his grandmother’s transformation shocking, and tell her so.
Mr. Jones lifted his bag, and was about to speak, but when he saw Lola’s hair, he came to an abrupt halt, and in his confusion, he dropped his bag to the ground.
“What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a red head before?” Lola asked.
Mr. Jones opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he stammered, “Well…well yes…I…I have.”
“Don’t you like red heads?” she asked, tilting her chin provocatively.
He thought about it for a moment, and then a genuine honest to goodness full of life grin spread across his face. “I love red heads,” he said, almost growling. “And the more fiery they are, the better.”
Lola pointed her crooked finger at him as though she’d caught him at something wonderfully wicked, and she began to cackle. Mr. Jones did as well, revealing a few jagged yellow teeth in the process. Sebastian stared between the two of them, completely unaware of what could be so funny. And, he didn’t like the way Mr. Jones was looking at his grandmother, he didn’t like it one bit.
“What have you brought for me today Charlie?” Lola asked coyly.
He bent over with surprising ease, and plucked the plastic bag he’d dropped off the ground. “Figs,” he said, “Sweet and succulent figs.”
“Oooh,” Lola replied, snatching the bag from him, and sticking her face into it. “I love figs, especially sweet and succulent figs.” And again they giggled while Sebastian looked on, his suspicions inflamed.
“Do you like figs?” Lola asked, turning to her grandson.
He folded his arms across his chest. “No, I don’t,” he replied flatly.
“Have you ever had one?” Mr. Jones asked.
Not only had he never eaten a fig, but he wasn’t even sure that he’d ever seen one. He shrugged, not wanting to admit his ignorance.
Lola reached into the bag, pulled out a fig, and waggled it before Sebastian’s eyes. He stared at the strange looking fruit and when she poked his nose with it, he had no choice but to take it from her. The outer skin felt smooth and firm in his hand, yet the inside it seemed squishy. A pleasant floral fragrance wafted up to his nose when he squeezed it, but he was in no way tempted to eat this thing that looked like an ugly Christmas ornament.
“Go ahead, take a bite,” she said while nudging his shoulder.
Sebastian swallowed hard, but made no move to put the fig in his mouth.
“Oh for goodness sake,” Lola said, and she took the fig from him, and indulged in a healthy bite, exposing the pink juicy flesh underneath. A trickle of syrupy liquid trickled down her chin, and she swooned with pleasure. “Divine,” she murmured. “They almost taste like strawberries and so sweet, I could swear they were injected with honey.”
“I’m glad you like them, Lola,” Mr. Jones said, and with a genteel bow, he bid her goodnight and sauntered off with a new spring to his step, chuckling and shaking his head as he went.
Lola finished her fig, not at all bothered that her face and hands were dripping with sticky juice. “You must try one, Sebastian. They’re truly delectable.”
“No thank you, Abuela,” he replied, convinced that he’d never seen anything more disagreeable in all his life. And when he looked at her again with her jello red hair, and her lips glistening with fig juice, he realized that he’d lost his grandmother after all. The sadness he felt caused his bones to ache, and he stared out listlessly at the darkening sky as his grandmother slurped noisily on another fig, sighing with pleasure.
By the time Terrence arrived, his ample arms laden with the evening meal, it was almost dark so he didn’t immediately notice the difference in Lola’s appearance, but he was delighted to see her anticipating his arrival as always. “It’s your favorite tonight,” he announced cheerfully. “I made sure to pack an extra large portion of meatloaf for you.”
“How wonderful,” Lola exclaimed, stepping out of the shadows and directly under the porch light.
Terrence gave her a second glance, and then a sustained stare. “Ms. Lola, your hair.”
At first, she didn’t understand why Terrence looked so perplexed, but then she remembered and laughed. “Oh, that’s right, I’m a red head now. What do you think?”
Sebastian held his breath, hoping that Terrence would speak the truth that Mr. Jones had been unable or unwilling to express, but he merely smiled politely and said, “Women always say they feel brand new when they change their hair.”
“Yes exactly,” Lola said pressing his arm appreciatively. “I feel brand new, just like a butterfly.”
“There you go,” Terrence said, with an encouraging nod for Sebastian
. “After what your grandmother’s been through these last few days, that’s great to hear.”
Sebastian surrendered a small shrug. “I guess,” he muttered.
When they entered the house, it was dark and the place glowed eerily with the light that emanated from the candles on the table. Terrence looked around, taking it all in, but he said nothing as he set the dinner boxes down.
Lola proceeded to the kitchen where she took the plates from the cupboard and scurried back to the table. This was obviously the part of her life she’d missed the most during her stay at the hospital, and it hurt Sebastian to think that she hadn’t missed him most of all. The smell coming from the containers made him feel queasy, and he knew that this time he wouldn’t be able to eat or pretend to eat. In fact, he was fully prepared to tell her just how awful he thought the Senior Center food was, but he’d wait until Terrence left so as not to hurt his feelings.
Terrence draped his generous frame across the couch as Lola sat down at the table. As she opened each container, her eyes narrowed. Without a word, she took up her fork and tasted the meat loaf. She then speared the limp string beans, and they dangled toward her lips, dripping as they went. The mashed potatoes were next, and she plunged her fork into the pale gummy mess that she had always found so satisfying. Finally, she put down her fork, turned to Terrence and said, “This is crap.”
Terrence’s eyes widened and he sat up straight. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said, pushing the steaming boxes away from her. “I wouldn’t feed this to my dog, if I had a one.”
“I’m sorry you don’t like it. I…I…you’ve always enjoyed it before.” He turned to Sebastian. “Hasn’t your grandmother always enjoyed her food?” he asked, looking somewhat sheepish.
Sebastian nodded. He couldn’t believe that he’d just heard his grandmother say a four letter word, perhaps not the worst of the bunch, but a four letter word just the same. “You used to like it, Abuela,” he said, not that he had any intention of persuading her that she should like it now.
“I used to like this?” she asked, making a face.
“You don’t remember?” Terrence asked.
Lola shook her head and crossed her arms. “Do you like this stuff?” she asked Sebastian.
“No, not really,” he replied.
Then she turned to Terrence. “How about you?”
Terrence shrugged. “To be honest with you, I never tried it.”
“Well try it,” she said.
“I don’t think….”
“Try it,” she insisted, pushing the plate toward him. “You should taste the stuff they’re making you deliver.”
He chuckled as he went to the table, and looking somewhat unsure of himself, he took a small piece of meatloaf on his fork. He hesitated for a moment, and then put it in his mouth and began to chew. He swallowed hard, and set his fork down. “I see what you mean,” he muttered.
Lola closed the boxes one by one, stacked them on top of each other and put them back into the white plastic bag. “There’s a large trash bin outside. Feel free to deliver this to its rightful home when you go.”
“What will you have for dinner, Ms. Lola?”
She obviously hadn’t thought about it, and seemed at a loss.
“After I finish my deliveries, I can go to the market for you if you like,” Terrence offered.
“That’s kind of you,” Lola said. “But I’m really not very hungry. I had some delicious figs just before you came, and I’ll prepare some toast and warm milk before I go to bed. And,” she continued, her eyes glittering with promise, “tomorrow is another day.”
“That’s right and it’s baked chicken tomorrow, another one of your fav….” He stopped himself and mumbled, “We’ll see how it goes.”
Terrence lingered awhile longer. He inquired about Lola’s experience at the hospital, but she was reluctant to talk about it, so he told her about some of the gigs he’d played recently, although not with the ease and openness he had before. He was trying to find his comfort zone, and every time he focused on Lola and her strawberry hair, he faltered a bit, as though wondering whether he should be saying these things to a woman he wasn’t sure he knew anymore. Nevertheless, Lola listened as intently as ever, and eventually her questions prompted Terrence to share openly again.
The candle flames grew taller and the shadows they created danced all around them. By the time they’d burned almost half way down to their bases, the pleasant fragrance of melting wax permeated the room, and as Sebastian gazed at his grandmother in the flickering light, she changed before his eyes. Shifting back and forth through time, he saw his mother’s face, and sometimes his sister and aunt, and when he squinted, he couldn’t be sure, but he thought he might’ve even caught a glimpse of someone he’d never seen before, an exceedingly wise and beautiful woman.
But the spell was broken when the screen door flung open, and Sebastian’s mother entered the house. She hesitated near the door, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and flickering light. When she was finally able to focus, her hands floated up to her face in bewilderment. Up until a few seconds ago, she had her mind firmly set on addressing her son’s defiance at school, but she completely forgot what she was going to say. She tore her eyes away from Lola to look at the blazing candles on the table.
Terrence stood up, and cleared his throat. “I…I think I’ll be going now Ms. Lola.” He said, taking the plastic bag of uneaten food with him. “I’ll be by tomorrow with your delivery.” That said, he flashed Sebastian a smile, and walked past Gloria, and out the door while humming softly to himself.
“What does this mean, Ma?” Gloria asked once she found her voice.
“What does what mean?” Lola returned with an impudent toss of her head.
“You know - the candles, the hair…”
“I like real candles,” she said. “And as for my hair, I needed a change.”
Gloria walked slowly forward, and took the seat that Terrence had occupied. “I certainly hope you aren’t getting back into that weird Jibaro stuff you used to do with candles and herbs.” Gloria strongly disapproved of these superstitions from the island, and had often told her mother that she didn’t want her children exposed to such nonsense.
Lola met her daughter’s formidable gaze, and sat up straighter in her chair. “I merely lit some candles and colored my hair. Is that a crime?”
“You promised.”
“What exactly did I promise?”
“After the fire, we agreed that you could stay here as long as…” She paused when she saw her mother’s baffled expression. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember because I know you do.” When Lola didn’t reply, Gloria sighed and turned to her son next. “Your teacher told me what happened today. Why did you ignore her directions?”
Sebastian knew that he’d done wrong, but he also felt a tinge of satisfaction in knowing that because of him, Ms. Ashworth had called his mother instead of his father. “I wanted to see Abuela Lola,” he replied, glancing sideways at his grandmother. “Is that a crime?”
Gloria slammed her hand hard on the table, and the candle flames sputtered and nearly went out. “I won’t have you leaving school without permission. This will not happen again, do you understand me?”
Sebastian hung his head, and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Look at me,” she commanded, and he raised his eyes to meet hers.
“Do you understand me?” she repeated.
“I understand,” he muttered.
Gloria sighed, and pushed herself away from the table. She flicked on the kitchen light and Lola and Sebastian winced against the harsh glare. She then blew out the candles one by one, and they watched as gray smoke curled up from their wicks, filling the room with a pleasant fragrance.
“Get your book bag,” Gloria said to Sebastian. “We have to get home so you can start on your homework, and I want it finished before dinner. Then, you’ll write Ms. Ashworth a full page letter of apology befor
e you go to bed.”
Lola leaned forward and whispered loudly, “Actually, long winded apologies can be tedious. Keep it brief.”
“This is absolutely none of your business, Ma,” Gloria returned.
Lola shrugged, and addressed Sebastian again, her eyes glittering with promise. “Tomorrow when you come, I’ll have a surprise…”
“Sebastian will be going to the after school program tomorrow like he should’ve today,” Gloria said. “And if he knows what’s good for him, he won’t make the same mistake twice.”
Sebastian took up his book bag, and followed his mother out the door. He was dying to know what surprise Lola was planning, but knew that if he asked her about it, his mother would get angrier than she already was. Before stepping outside, he turned to see her sitting at the kitchen table watching them, and when their eyes met, she winked again. This time, however, it seemed like a perfectly natural thing for her to do.
Chapter Nine
When they got home Sebastian went straight up to his room to get started on his homework. His mother had been preoccupied on the drive home, but Sebastian knew she wasn’t so much angry with him as she was worried about Abuela Lola’s strange behavior and even stranger appearance. When his father arrived home from work, Sebastian was able to overhear most of the conversation between his parents downstairs in the kitchen from his room.
“I don’t know what to make of it. It’s not just the hair, it’s… it’s everything. The words coming out of her mouth, the expression on her face, even the way she moves is different.”
“Have you called her doctor?”
“I plan to do that first thing tomorrow morning, and I’m going to call Mando and Gabi too. When Mando hears about this, he’ll want to pack Ma right up and move her out immediately”
“I imagine he will. Now, what was the problem with Sebastian? You said his teacher called you? What’s her name?”
Sebastian’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he crept out of his bedroom, and into the hallway so that he could hear them more clearly.
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