Page 4 of Mariposa
“Be patient. One letter at a time. Is that okay? Then I’ll tell you why I chose your grandpa over Graham.”
I chew the inside of my lip.
“Fine. One letter at a time.” I agree, sitting up straight, I kiss her on the cheek. “Text me when you want me to read another one.
“Of course, Violet.”
“Can I ask one question, though?”
“Of course.”
“Was he in the Navy? We live near a Navy base, so I assume he was a sailor.”
“No,mija. He is not. Graham was a Green Beret. He sent me these letters from Vietnam.”
“Wow…Grandma, a Special Forces soldier?” My brows wag up and down as I simultaneously give her a cheeky grin.
Nice. Go, Grandma.
A pinch of red paints her cheeks, and she giggles like a teenager. I haven’t seen her smile like that since her diagnosis. Seeing how much she lights up while taking a trip down memory lane brings me peace. If reading these letters makes her blissful during a hard time, I’ll be patient.
“You surprise me, Grandma.” I cross my arms, narrowing my brows.
“Why?”
“You’ve warned me time and time again all my life to stay away from military men, and you’re telling me you fell in love with one?”
She grows quiet. Her silence says it all. She isn’t sure what to say. She hugs her teddy bear tighter, and it’s like I struck a nerve. I hadn’t meant to, and I take this moment as my exit.
“I’ll see you later, Abuelita,” I lean forward and kiss her cheek again.
“Que Dios te bendiga, te quiero mucho.”
“Te quiero más.”
She turns on her television, flipping the channel twice before setting the television remote down at her side. She’s watching one of her favorite movies,Beethoven.
“Goodbye, Grandpa. I’m here for one more day, then I’m leaving for North Carolina.”
He places the local newspaper back onto his lap.
“We’re very proud of you.” He smiles and leans into my ear. “She worries about you, but if going into Special Ops makes you happy, she’s happy. Give your mom some time to come to terms with your decisions, though.” his voice and hands shake against my forearms as he whispers.
He knows my mother wants nothing to do with my choice to join the military but doesn’t get involved. I feel like she doesn’t understand how special it is to make it through Selection—a rigorous and challenging set of events where you’re testedboth physically and mentally. The class started with over four hundred candidates, and only thirty of us were selected to move on to the Special Forces course.
“Don’t worry about my mother and me,” I reassure him.
I straighten my back, return the smile, and suppress the ache in my chest as the concern for their well-being pricks my mind. I don’t need to cry every time I see them.
“I’m glad she has you when I can’t be here.” My tone is light as I take another step away.
“Focus. You go and be great. We’ll be here, cheering our granddaughter on.” He places his freckled hand on the ends of his bright red, fuzzy plaid sweater. He grabs his pen and adjusts his reading glasses before returning to his puzzle.
I pivot around on my foot, the soles of my shoes softly squeaking. Before I leave, I look at my grandma one last time and take a mental picture of her alive and happy. She’s so focused on the present, enjoying simple things like watching her favorite movie while poison floods her veins.
Even in the darkness, she smiles.
I walk down the hallway toward the exit. I say goodbye to the nurse who’s administering her chemo and remind her to call me if anything happens. Typically, I’m not allowed back here when she gets her treatment, but they made a one-time-only exception. About five minutes later, I leave the hospital and head towards the visitors’ parking lot.
