Chapter Twelve
When Sebastian arrived to his grandmother’s bungalow the following afternoon, he found the situation more or less as he had the day before, except that the place was in even more disarray. She had obviously been out shopping again, but hadn’t bothered to put away any of her purchases from the previous day’s excursion. The sofa and all of the chairs and table surfaces were covered with additional boxes, bags and wrapping paper. It reminded him of photographs he’d seen after an earthquake, when everything came crashing down to the floor in a broken layered heap.
Lola was in the kitchen, concentrating on preparing something at the counter. Her red hair partially obscured her eyes, but when she looked up and saw Sebastian standing in the middle of the room, her smile was warm and welcoming.
“What are you making today, Abuela?” he asked, sniffing the air, although this time he didn’t smell anything.
“I’m delighted to inform you that we’re making something as basic as air and water, and just as essential for life,” she replied.
He wrinkled his brow. Air and water didn’t sound very appetizing.
“But before we begin,” she said, “I must tell you the story behind this dish, and then your knowing will give it an extra something that can’t be described, only tasted.”
Intrigued, Sebastian dropped his book bag by the door and made his way to the kitchen, clearing a path as he went. He climbed the step stool that was exactly where he’d left it the day before, and rested his elbows on the counter. After wiping her hands on her apron, Lola peered at her grandson curiously, assessing whether or not he was ready for what she had to say. “I realize that I’ve told you many things about Puerto Rico,” she began, “But did I ever tell you that there are more beautiful women on that island than anywhere else in the world?”
“No Abuela, you never told me that,” Sebastian replied.
Her red head bobbed with certitude. “It’s as if God decided to put his most precious jewels all in one beautiful case for safekeeping, but for those of us who weren’t so blessed, it presented quite a challenge. You see, very early in life, I understood that if I ever hoped to find a decent husband, I’d have to rely on something other than beauty. Perhaps God hadn’t given me a voluptuous figure, but he gave me something else,” she said, pointing to her head and smiling. “He gave me an inexhaustible mind. And that is even more powerful than beauty because it allows a woman not only to find her love, but to keep him.”
Sebastian gazed at his grandmother with a somewhat baffled expression. He wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.
“Anyway,” Lola said. “I never expected a handsome prince to sweep me off my feet and take me to his castle in the sky. I was far too practical to believe in that kind of fairy tale nonsense. All I wanted was an honest hard working man who’d treat me well and be a good father to his children. But when I first set eyes on your grandfather at the town square, and took in the sight of his handsome face and strong frame, I couldn’t help myself - for the first time in my life, I started to believe in fairy tales.” Lola chuckled. “That’s what love will do to you, Sebastian. It’ll make you believe you can fly if you flap your arms about, or that you can breathe under water if you concentrate hard enough. It’s a wonderful feeling, but for me it was also a problem because many beautiful young ladies had set their sights on your grandfather too. At every gathering in the town they flirted with him, parading themselves shamelessly before him and competing for his attention whenever they had a chance.
But I wasn’t discouraged. While they flirted, I stood by quietly, watching and waiting. I studied his behavior, what made him laugh and frown, who his friends were, and who he avoided. Before too long, I knew most of his likes and dislikes, and soon learned that his favorite dish since he was a little boy was arroz sasonado, and that he was absolutely certain that nobody could make it better than his mother.
I didn’t waste any time, and immediately got to work on perfecting my recipe. For weeks I experimented with a variety of different vegetables and meats, and a multitude of seasonings to balance the dish. When I was finished, there wasn’t one person who didn’t say it was the best arroz sasondo they’d ever tasted, and I knew in my heart that if Ramiro tasted it then maybe I’d have a chance with him. Even so, I couldn’t simply walk up to him with a plate of rice and force him to eat it. I’d have to wait for the right opportunity, and if we were meant to be together, I knew that it would arise. I waited for over a year and was beginning to think that perhaps it wasn’t meant to be when, one day, the perfect opportunity arose.
Ramiro’s mother had become ill, and in our neighborhood it was customary to take food for the family until the lady of the house had recovered. As you can imagine, many young ladies were eager to impress him with their home cooked meals. They would arrive to his house and leave their dish with whomever answered the door. If it was Ramiro who answered, they’d exchange pleasantries with him for several minutes first, enticing him with their beauty before handing over the food.
But a few minutes wouldn’t be nearly enough time for your grandfather to realize we were made for each other, so I thought long and hard about what to do. I agonized over what to wear, and how to do my hair. I finally decided on my sister’s red dress that made me look like I had a little meat on my bones, and I wore my hair up in a bun. It suited my face, but even more importantly, I didn’t want to risk even one strand of hair getting into the food. When it was finally my turn, I showed up at your grandfather’s door with a bag of uncooked ingredients and explained that I had brought arroz sasonado, but that it was most delicious when eaten immediately so I’d have to prepare it for him right then and there. Eager to enjoy his favorite dish, he invited me into his mother’s kitchen.
“I’ve seen you around,” Ramiro said, “But I forgot your name.”
“That’s too bad,” I replied.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”
“I’ll tell you once you’ve eaten, and not before.”
“Why is that?”
“Because after you’ve tasted the best arroz sasonado you’ve ever had in your life, you’ll never forget the name of the woman who made it.”
“Well,” he said. “Now I’m not only hungry, but curious.”
I set down to my cooking, and while Ramiro watched me work he asked me many questions about my family and my life, trying to trick me into telling him my name, but I was far too clever for him which always kept a smile on his face. If he was curious when I started cooking, he was now completely mesmerized. Once I had finished with the main preparations, I turned the heat down very low so that the half hour or so the rice needed would extend to more than an hour.
Finally, when the meal was finished, I served him a generous plate. The rice was beautiful to behold, and he was smiling from ear to ear as he admired it, but when he tasted it, the smile fell from his lips. “You spoke the truth,” he said. “This is undoubtedly the most delicious arroz sasonado I’ve ever had in my life.” He looked somewhat ashamed when he added, “It’s even better than my mother’s.”
“I knew you’d like it,” I said, and he was so engrossed by his meal that after serving him a second helping, I managed to slip out of the house without his realizing.
That same evening, there was a knock on the door. My mother found me out back and told me that there was a handsome young man asking for me. I walked calmly to the door to greet him.
“Oh hello, did I leave something behind?” I asked.
“Yes, a broken promise,” he said. “And because of a certain nameless girl, I’ve eaten enough for three people in one day. The least she can do is accompany me to the square and help me walk some of it off.”
I agreed that I owed him that much, and we walked together in the early evening down the lane toward the village just as the moon came out. The jungle pressed in upon us, and we inhaled the perfume of wild flowers as we listened to the hiccupping song of the coqui that to my ears so
unded more joyous than ever. I could almost see their shiny little eyes peeking out from under rocks and leaves, and I had no doubt that they were smiling.
“If you like my arroz sasonado” I said, “You’ll think you died and went to heaven when you try my carne guisada.”
“I feel like I’m in heaven now,” he replied, taking my hand, and after that day he was mine.
As Lola told her story Sebastian tried to imagine her as a girl. He envisioned her looking a little bit like Kelly Taylor, and he stole glances at his grandfather’s grave portrait on the wall as well. He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who’d be swayed by a simple plate of food.
“And all of this happened because of some rice?” Sebastian asked.
“Not just any rice,” Lola replied. “The most amazing rice on the island, maybe even the world.”
“I want to try it,” he said, suddenly eager to experience what his grandfather had found so life changingly delicious.
“Very well,” Lola said. “Then you must do exactly as I say.”
She dropped a good portion of rough chopped bacon into the pot, and directed Sebastian to stir constantly while it cooked through. As he stirred, she added finely chopped onions, peppers and garlic to the rendered fat as well as a smattering of seasoning. As the multicolored bits of vegetable and meat began to heat and sizzle, Sebastian inhaled the tangy aroma and sensed the intoxicating magic in the air. He pictured his grandfather as a handsome young man leaning on the counter and inhaling the same aroma while watching his bride to be.
Once these initial ingredients were cooked through and just beginning to brown, Lola added fresh tomatoes, capers, chopped chicken, plenty of broth, and three heaping cups of white rice. Immediately the sizzling stopped and the soupy mixture assumed a beautiful golden hue. Sebastian longed to dip in his spoon and stir and taste, and stir and taste some more.
“Now we must leave it alone,” Lola said. “We can’t stir it more than once, or else we’ll disturb the essential nature of the dish. We’ve introduced the right ingredients to one another, and set the stage. They’ll know how to do the rest.”
Sebastian stepped down from the stool, and only then remembered what had been weighing on him all day. He anxiously related the telephone conversations he’d overheard regarding plans to move her to a convalescent home, but Lola’s expression remained placid as she listened, and at one point she peeked under the lid to check on the rice. “I can’t be sure, but I believe that we’re going to have plenty of pegao,” she said.
“What do you mean Abuela?”
“Pegao, pegao,” she repeated excitedly. “It’s the best part of any self respecting rice dish, the delicious crust that gets stuck to the bottom of the pan. It’s here where the goodness concentrates to form a blend of unsurpassable flavors. Some say that it’s even better than sex.”
“Abuela!” Sebastian cried, upset that his grandmother wasn’t paying serious attention to what he’d told her. “You have to stop talking about rice.”
“It’s not just rice. It’s pegao,” she said with a discerning nod.
Before Sebastian could respond, they heard the familiar pounding of the cane, and the creak of the screen door opening. They turned to see Charlie Jones standing on the threshold with a bouquet of yellow roses. Taking no notice of the chaos in the house, he took several shaky steps inside, and removed his hat.
It was truly a wonder to behold. Not only was Charlie Jones wearing new clothes and freshly shaven with his gray hair neatly slicked back away from his face, but he was also sporting a set of gleaming new dentures.
“Well, look at you,” Lola remarked. “You look as shiny as a brand new penny.”
At this Charlie straightened up. “Do you notice anything …specific?” he asked smiling more broadly.
Lola took a step closer to him and sniffed the air. “As a matter of fact I do. The scent of your cologne is absolutely delightful. Don’t you agree Sebastian?”
Charlie Jones turned to face Sebastian who wasted no time in declaring, “You got some new teeth.”
“That’s right,” Charlie replied, slapping his knee. “I got myself a new set of choppers.”
“Really?” Lola said. “Does this mean you’re going to smile more, Charlie?”
“I believe I am,” he replied, and then as though to consecrate his commitment, he presented Lola with the roses that she accepted with a gracious nod, and a smile of her own.
“These are lovely, thank you,” she crooned, as she plunked them into the vase that had once held the plastic tulips.
“Dinner isn’t quite ready yet. Shall we chat for a while?” she said, making her way to the living room. But there was no place to sit so she knocked a few of the boxes off the sofas and chairs, while Charlie Jones whacked his cane about to clear a path along the floor. Sebastian watched from the counter, fascinated and worried. And he couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Jones had been leaving romantic notes for his grandmother in the bags of fruit he’d been dropping off.
“Come and sit with us,” Lola said, waving her grandson over.
Sebastian had a seat on the rocker while Lola and Charlie Jones sat together on the sofa. She got the conversation started. “Sebastian tells me that my children are trying to put me away in a home.”
Charlie’s eyes gaped open in surprise and he was no longer smiling, although he had some difficulty closing his mouth over his new teeth. “Why would they want to do something like that? It’s not like you’ve gone mental or anything.” Charlie scratched his chin. “And you don’t need special medical equipment or someone to help you in the bathroom.”
“I only take three pills a day,” Lola said holding three fingers up. “One for my cholesterol, one for my blood pressure, and a new blood thinner they gave me at the hospital, but I think I might stop taking that one.” She rolled up her sleeves to reveal a multitude of little bruises along her forearms. “Look what it’s doing to me.”
“You keep taking those pills, Lola,” Charlie said with a sober nod. “If you stop, then you’ll give them a real reason to put you away.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she replied, rolling down her sleeves. “Then what do you think the problem is Charlie?”
Charlie tried to come up with an answer to this question as he worked his lips over his new teeth, but he was unsuccessful at both.
“What do you think?” she asked, turning to Sebastian.
Sebastian rocked forward in his chair so that his feet were firmly on the ground. He gazed at his grandmother’s flurry of red hair, and then looked around at the topsy turvy room that had once been so tidy and clean. The reason was so obvious, that he didn’t know how to put it delicately, but he had to say something. “They think…you’ve changed,” he finally said.
Lola was perturbed by her grandson’s assessment. “But change is part of life. Isn’t that true Charlie?”
He nodded, and was happy to find another reason to smile, his teeth glinting in the shaft of sunlight coming in through the window.
“Maybe it’s that you’ve changed too much,” Sebastian said. “Maybe they think it’s a little bit…weird.”
“Well then what should I do?” she asked.
He had a quick and ready answer for this one. “Change back to the way you were before.”
“Change back?” she said, her eyes round with horror.
“Well then, at least change your hair back to the way it used to be.”
“My hair?” Lola said, swiping away a berry colored lock from her forehead.
“If you change it back, then maybe they won’t worry so much, and if you stopped cooking…”
“Stop cooking?” Lola asked, leaning back and placing her hand over her chest. “You want me to stop cooking too?”
“No, I don’t want you to stop cooking, but you did promise Abuela. Remember? After the house almost burned down, you promised that you’d never cook again.”
She thought about this for a moment or two, her som
ber expression revealing nothing. Then all at once, her eyes came to life with a new idea. “I know what I’ll do,” she said. “I’ll prepare an absolutely fabulous meal, something that will make them forget all this nonsense about putting me away.”
“No Abuela,” Sebastian said, standing up so abruptly that the rocker almost fell over. “You have to cook less not more. When the doctor tells me I should slow down, I don’t speed up. You shouldn’t do more of what you shouldn’t do.”
“I shouldn’t do more of what I shouldn’t do?”
“No you shouldn’t.”
Lola cocked her head to one side. “Sounds like a lot of ‘shoulds and shouldn’ts’ to me. Don’t you think, Charlie?”
He nodded, his smile emerging once again. “You shouldn’t live with so many ‘shoulds and shouldn’ts.”
“Oh,” she said nudging his shoulder playfully. “That was very clever Charlie Jones. You’re a very clever man.”
Charlie’s face exploded with a smile again, and Sebastian fell back in the rocker. Dealing with his parent’s separation, and Abuela Lola’s strange behavior was too much for him, and he suddenly felt weary and spent.
Lola excused herself to attend to the rice, but first she asked Charlie to light the candles she’d placed all throughout the living room. The sun was setting quickly, and he eagerly went about this task as though something horrible would happen if night fell before every candle were lit.
Moments later the meal was served, and Lola invited Sebastian and Charlie to join her at the table. She poured red wine into the crystal glasses she’d set out for her and Charlie, and in Sebastian’s glass she poured milk.
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