“Thanks,” he replied, feeling his ears go red.
“Did you make it up because of your heart problem?”
He’d never thought about it that way, but realized she was right. “I guess so.”
“It’s too bad you have a bad heart, because if you could play soccer for real, you’d be the best player in the class.” That said, she walked out from under the willow tree to join the others at the tether ball court. Overwhelmed by what Kelly Taylor had just said, Sebastian watched them play from the shadows beneath the tree, his hand pressed over his heart.
On his way off of the school grounds that afternoon Sebastian was delayed by some of his classmates who challenged him to play his new game with them. They’d been practicing during the lunch recess and were certain that now they would be able to beat him. It’s true that they had improved, but with only a bit more effort on his part, Sebastian was able to put them in their place, although he felt somewhat sorry to see how disappointed they were afterward. Sean was the most upset. After he lost, he sprung to his feet, balled his fists into knots and pounded the tether ball until he was spent. Then he just stood there, his head hanging in defeat.
“Keep practicing,” Sebastian said. “And pretty soon you’ll be able to beat me.”
“You think so?” he asked hopefully.
Sebastian nodded, took up his book bag, and left for his grandmother’s house a half hour later than usual. And once he saw the little yellow house, he couldn’t remember how he got there. He’d walked the usual route, but try as he might he couldn’t recall where he crossed the street, or the corners he turned. He thought about what his grandmother had told him before, that when you fall in love it makes you feel like you can fly and breathe underwater. That’s exactly how he felt, and the complete surrender it provoked made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. Even her name held a special power, and when he muttered Kelly Taylor, Kelly Taylor to himself, the words seemed strangely holy. He wanted to make her happy, and silly as it was, he imagined them running together hand in hand along the edge of the sea during a magnificent sunset. And this vision glowed in his heart all the way to his grandmother’s house.
Sebastian opened the door to find that the candles had already been lit and the little house was ablaze with a golden wavering light. He dropped his bag by the door, and joined his grandmother at the kitchen counter. When Lola looked up, she clasped her hands together. “We’re making something new today. I think you’ll like it.”
Sebastian was intent upon helping his grandmother with the meal as usual, but he was still entranced by the events of the day, and he didn’t want the feeling to pass so quickly. “Who’s coming over tonight Abuela?” he asked absent mindedly.
“Oh I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. “Maybe nobody, maybe everybody.” She unwrapped a large package of fresh ground beef, and instructed Sebastian to begin preparing the sofrito while she organized the other ingredients.
“Today we’re making picadillo,” Lola said, looking curiously at her grandson who was chopping the onions, garlic and peppers as though in slow motion. “We often made this on the island when we were running low on cash. The ground meat is cheap and tasty and we could make it stretch as far as we needed it to.”
Sebastian continued to chop the vegetables and before too long he was sautéing the garlic in olive oil with a pinch of salt, but he was still lost in thought. A few minutes later a bitter odor filled the kitchen, and Lola went to check on what Sebastian was doing. She saw that he’d started cooking the garlic before anything else, something she’d told him never to do. And what’s more, he hadn’t bothered to add the other vegetables, the juice of which might have prevented the garlic from burning.
She turned to Sebastian who still had a dreamy faraway look on his face while he absentmindedly moved the charred pieces of garlic around in the pan with his spoon. Lola promptly snatched the spoon away from him, and turned down the flame that was also too high.
“Look what you’ve done, Sebastian,” she said, studying him with some concern.
Sebastian gazed down at the burnt mess in the pan. “I’m sorry Abuela,” he said. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” The truth is that he’d been thinking about Kelly Taylor, and how much fun it would be to teach her how to cook.
“I can see that,” Lola replied while removing the burnt pieces of garlic and oil with a paper towel. When she returned the pan to the stove Sebastian added all of the vegetables this time and paid much closer attention to what he was doing. He’d never burned anything before, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Lola added the ground meat and a can of tomato sauce to the pan followed by a squirt of ketchup. She stirred in some chopped olives, and a handful of golden raisins as well. They worked silently side by side for awhile, Sebastian stirring the picadillo which was coming together nicely while Lola prepared the rice. As she measured out two cups of white rice, she explained that serving picadillo without rice was like saying “good morning” without smiling.
Sebastian looked up from his work, no longer able to contain himself. “Something happened at school today, Abuela.”
“I figured something must’ve happened,” she replied.
“There’s this girl named Kelly Taylor and she asked me to teach her how to play a game during recess. Every boy at school is in love with her, but she asked me to teach her,” Sebastian said, proudly.
“How wonderful,” Lola replied. “And I’m sure you were a very good teacher.”
“I think so,” Sebastian said. It was thrilling to say these words out loud, and to know that they were true, and this encouraged him to say even more. “I guess I love her too, but,” and his spirits sank just thinking about it. “I don’t want her to feel sorry for me. Just because I can’t run, just because I’m small…it would be better if she hated me than felt sorry for me.”
Lola was taken aback by these unexpected words of passion, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Sebastian continued stirring the picadillo, and then she added more seasoning which included an envelope of achiote and plenty of dried oregano. They inhaled the delicious aroma and then, glancing at Sebastian she added a touch of chili pepper as well and said, “A bit of intense flavor is a very good thing. Sometimes, it’s just what’s needed to give the dish its life and color. Too much will over power it, but just the right amount will make it sing.”
Just then, Charlie Jones pounded his way up the porch steps and pushed open the screen door with his cane. He was fresh and powdered, and in a jovial mood as he had been of late. But for the first time, he arrived empty handed. He apologized profusely for this, explaining that he woke up with a very stiff back and didn’t feel like going to the market.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lola said. “Today I’m cooking something that will make you forget your back pain and put the spring back in your step.”
“Then I want three helpings, and I won’t stop eating until I’m dancing again,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Were you a dancer in your younger years Charlie?” Lola asked, while covering the pan of picadillo with a lid so it could simmer.
“Indeed I was,” he replied with a modest bow. “The fox trot was my favorite. You should’ve seen me move across the dance floor. I was like a hot rock on ice.”
Sebastian studied the old man’s stooped posture, and the map of overlapping creases etched across his face and throat. It didn’t seem possible that Charlie Jones could have ever been young, and Sebastian couldn’t imagine him walking without his cane much less gliding across the floor like a hot rock on ice.
“How about you Lola?” Charlie asked. “No doubt you were an amazing dancer in your day. Even now, you do things with such rhythm and grace.”
Lola laughed at the compliment, and shook her head. “Oh my goodness no, I was a terrible dancer, and on the island people took their dancing very seriously. I was considered to be practically handicapped. Thank goodness my dear Ramiro was so pati
ent with me. Actually, I think he felt sorry for me,” Lola said, with a wink for Sebastian.
“I can’t believe that he ever felt sorry for you,” Charlie Jones returned.
“Oh but you’re wrong Charlie,” Lola said, her eyes soft with the memory. “Soon after we met Ramiro invited me to go out dancing with him, and I turned him down because I didn’t want him to know what a bad dancer I was. But he enjoyed dancing so much, that I knew I’d have to go with him eventually or risk losing him.
“The first time I agreed to go, he took me to a club a few miles from town near the ocean. It was a beautiful balmy night, and there was a soft breeze which made the palms sway gently as if they were dancing too. We heard the tinkling of vendors on the street selling fresh coconuts, mangos and papayas. Ramiro offered to buy me something to eat, but I was far too nervous to eat anything. We had some coffee instead at a little café near the club. My hands were shaking, and Ramiro teased that my cup and saucer sounded like maracas, and that already he could tell I had excellent rhythm.
The club itself was lovely. The tables had white table cloths, and fresh flowers. Twinkling white lights were strung along the ceiling and the band was very good. They played the traditional plenas, and you know what they say; if you don’t feel like moving when you hear plena, it’s because you’re dead, but I stayed glued to the wall for quite awhile. Thankfully, Ramiro was very patient. He stood next to me, talking to me gently, and trying to convince me that I wouldn’t die of embarrassment if I gave it a try. When I confessed that I didn’t have one rhythmic bone in my body, he just laughed and took my hand. Little by little he pried me away from the wall until we were more or less on the edge of the dance floor. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and we swayed back and forth to the music.
“Do you feel the rhythm?” he asked. “Do you feel it flowing through you like a river?”
“No, I don’t feel a thing,” I said, certain that everyone in the room was watching us, and commenting on what a mismatched couple we were.
“Close your eyes,” he said, and I obeyed. “Now, forget about everyone in the room, and imagine that it’s just you and me. Nobody else in the world but you and me. Can you do that?”
“This I was more than happy to do. It was a pleasure to think of the entire planet with nobody but just Ramiro and me. No beautiful girls trying to steal him away from me, nobody asking me questions about where I’d been and with whom. All at once, I felt the music flowing through me like a river just like he said, and I began to move without even thinking about it.
“Excellent,” Ramiro whispered. “You’re even better than I thought you’d be.” And he took me in his arms and we danced and danced, and I made him promise me that if we stayed together, we would dance every day of our lives.”
The pot of picadillo started rattling on the stove, effectively breaking the spell. Lola went to check on it and then Charlie Jones muttered something unintelligible, and while leaning heavily on his cane, he rose from the table. His expression lacked the mirth that had possessed him of late, and his voice was surprisingly stern. “I’ll have to be going now,” he said with a stiff nod.
“But aren’t you staying for dinner?” Lola asked.
“News at nine,” he replied. “Need to keep up with what’s going on in the world.”
“But it’s barely five o’clock,” Lola returned.
Charlie shook his head as though overwhelmingly irritated by the delay. He took up his hat, and put it on his head with such force that the brim bent his ears slightly forward.
Lola walked with him to the door. “Well, tomorrow when you come…”
“Can’t come tomorrow,” he snapped barely looking at her. “Doctor’s appointment.”
He left without another word, and Lola walked back to the table, somewhat baffled by
Charlie’s sudden mood change.
“I don’t think Mr. Jones is feeling too good,” Sebastian said. “Maybe his back still hurts.”
“Perhaps, but it’s more likely that Charlie Jones has been bitten by the green eyed monster,” Lola said, appearing to be more amused than anything by the realization. “I should’ve known this would happen. Most men can’t resist a redhead.”
“What’s the green eyed monster?” Sebastian asked, intrigued by the thought of a monster with bright green eyes that preyed on rickety old men.
“Charlie Jones is jealous,” Lola said with a firm nod.
“But what’s he jealous about?”
“The past,” Lola replied. “Men can be very silly sometimes, Sebastian. It doesn’t matter how old they are.”
Together they started to set the table, and as they did so, Sebastian thought about his father’s behavior with Ms. Ashworth, and wondered if it would qualify as silly or more serious. But silly or not, Sebastian missed him and wished that he didn’t have to wait until the weekend to see him. Perhaps he’d be able to offer some advice regarding his feelings for Kelly Taylor. Sebastian was starting to put out the spoons when he asked, “Abuela, do you think there’s any chance that Kelly Taylor might love me too?”
“Where love is concerned, there is always a chance,” Lola replied. She sighed, and looked sadly after Charlie Jones who was just climbing the steps of his porch. As they finished setting the table, she took the opportunity to tell Sebastian about love as she understood it, that it was a rich and complicated concoction of many different emotions, a mystery of desire and longing that had just a little bit of everything. Because of its divine nature, it was beyond human understanding. “Love is from God,” she concluded, “and it has a purpose all its own.”
As Sebastian stirred the picadillo, he reflected on what his grandmother said, especially the part about love being from God. He’d never really thought about God before, and he wondered if God cared about him, and if He did, why He’d given him such a bad heart. Perhaps it was so Kelly Taylor would feel just a little bit sorry for him, and love him as much as he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-one
They stared at the roasted baby pig resting on the platter as though at any moment they expected it to open its eyes, and run off squealing from the counter. As golden brown and delicious as it looked, there was no denying that it was also rather cute, and cute and delicious didn’t necessarily go together.
Earlier they’d seen how Lola prepared it. She had massaged the pig with a mixture of salt, pepper, oregano, garlic and the juice of sour oranges until every inch of it glistened. As it slowly roasted in the oven, the heavenly aromas intensified, prompting a comment from one of the adults every now and then about how delicious it would be, and how much they were looking forward to the meal. These comments would be met with murmurs of approval, and more animated discussion about food.
Lola was far too busy frying plantains to take much notice of her grandchildren’s ambiguous reaction to the main course. The rice and pigeon peas were ready and all she needed to do was boil the root vegetables that Sebastian had already prepped for her. She wore a new apron, and had set the table in a more elaborate manner than usual with napkin rings and water glasses as well as wine glasses. Sebastian thought the table was quite beautiful, with its repeating patterns of glass, pottery and silver, and it filled him with happy anticipation just looking at it.
Gloria was helping Lola in the kitchen somewhat awkwardly, although she looked very nice in the new dress she’d purchased on her recent shopping trip with Jennifer and Gabi. She was wearing a touch of lipstick too. Sebastian thought that his mother had never looked so pretty and he was sorry that his father wasn’t there to witness it. Even if she wasn’t as gorgeous and free spirited as she appeared in those photographs, on this day there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was her. Maybe she hadn’t completely disappeared after all.
“Nena, what are you doing?” Lola asked with hands on hips.
Gloria immediately dropped her spoon. “Stirring the rice, what does it look like I’m doing?”
Lola shook her head, dismayed
as always by her daughter’s lack of skill in the kitchen. “You don’t stir the rice. Who in the world ever heard of stirring the rice?” Lola and Sebastian traded looks as though to say, ‘can you believe such culinary ignorance?’
“Sorry, Ma,” Gloria replied. “Well then, how can I help?”
“There’s a loaf of fresh bread on the counter,” Lola said. “Why don’t you slice and butter it?”
“I can do that,” Gloria said, and she got straight to work.
“I was meaning to tell you that you look very nice today. I like your new dress.”
Gloria seemed pleased to hear this. “Gabi picked it out for me. I never would’ve chosen it for myself.”
“It accents your figure, and you look like you’ve lost weight too.”
Gloria shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with all the noticing her mother was doing.
“Do you think I’ve sliced enough bread, Ma?” she asked, eager to change the subject.
Soon Gabi and Terrence arrived together. Although everyone was aware that Gabi and Terrence had been going out, no one dared ask her too many questions about how things were developing between them. Gabi had always been quite private about her romantic life, and everybody knew that she was certain to reveal more if people asked her less. As it was, nobody really expected this relationship with Terrence to become serious. If it lasted a few months, that would be more than most.
Moments later Charlie Jones was pounding his way up the porch stairs, just as cheerful as he’d been since acquiring his new teeth. Lola had mentioned to Sebastian earlier that week that she and Charlie had a good talk and that the green eyed monster had gone back to its cave.
“Okay Sebastian we’re ready,” Lola said, and he scurried to the kitchen to collect the platter piled high with appetizers – surullitos, savory cornmeal fritters and empanadillas, lobster filled pastries. His mouth watered as he took them to the table. Lola had assigned Jennifer the job of serving beverages and she began by asking everyone in a very professional waitress-like manner if they preferred beer or wine.
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