Page 28 of Mistlefoe
The lights inside the house are on, which makes sense because Mom’s shift at the salon ended like half an hour ago and she takes the bus back and forth. I’m the one who usually drives the truck becauseSPORTY’s building is clear across the other side of town.
“Susana,” Dad calls out when we walk in. “Break out the champagne because Sierra has a big announcement to make.”
“Dad, please.” I laugh as we wrestle with removing our winter wear at the entrance together.
“There’s no champagne,” Mom says back from the kitchen while banging some pot or pan. “We might still have some Cacique, though.” That’s the favorite brand of Venezuelan rum for the Fernandez family and I’m not opposed to a sip.
“Okay but first, we need to call Grammie. And let’s hope the connection works this time.”
I rush into the kitchen with my work bag and take out my laptop. It smells like Mom is working on some stew and I fire up my laptop as my stomach croaks.
I wrinkle my nose at the kissy sounds behind me. “Ew, your daughter is here, you guys.”
“Don’t be jealous.” Mom drops a quick kiss on my head. “I promise I won’t sayewwhen you bring a guy home and kiss him.”
“No, I bet you’d say worse things,” I mumble too low for her to hear. In the meantime, I click on the messaging system and start to call Grammie.
After a first attempt that fails, Dad asks, “Did you give her a heads up that you were calling? It could be she’s not available.”
“I did. I texted her on Whatsapp earlier and she said she’d be around.” I press the call button again with a bit too much strength. It makes my finger hurt.
I lean forward, glaring at the calling logo until it changes. It goes green for a second and then there she is. My grandma.
“Sierrita,” she says in a choppy voice. Her face is wrinkled but smiley, and her eyes have that arch they get when they’re happy. “Que Dios te bendiga.” Every conversation with an elder starts that way, with a blessing. I can’t wait until she gives it to me in person.
“Grammie, tengo noticias.” I can see my parents leaning over me through the tiny thumbnail that shows us. Our image is crystal clear compared to how grainy Grammie’s is, but it doesn’t matter. In three weeks she’ll be crystal clear and 3D.
“¿Qué?” she asks, leaning closer to the phone until we can see her ear.
Dad chuckles and I elbow him to stop. “Que tengo noticias,” I repeat, take a deep breath, and finally spill the beans. “Me están dando un bono en el trabajo y te voy a poder traer para acá para navidad!”
I open my hands in asurprisegesture and look up at my parents. They’re both looking at each other.
“¿Qué pasa?” I ask, confused when no one is bursting into cheers and hollers.
“Ay mija,” Grammie says with a sigh. “Me encantaría pero es que estos días no me siento muy bien.”
“What do you mean you don’t feel well?” I shake my head to shake my cables back in place.
“Grammie’s hypertension has been getting worse,” Mom explains to me, caressing my hair.
“But she can get treatment here.”
“Honey, that would be too expensive for us.” Dad presses his lips tight. “We can’t afford it.”
“Well, I can. The bonus is ten thousand dollars.” When they grow silent, Grammie asks for a translation and I comply.
Only for her to throw an unexpected curveball at me. “Sierrita, no quiero que uses to dinero en mí.”
My eyes bulge. From the beginning, this money has been labelled as to be used for Grammie, and not for me.
“Didn’t you say you want to rent your own place?” Mom asks with a little smile. “That way you don’t have to keep putting up with your yucky kissing parents.”
“No.” I blink at her, at Dad, then at Grammie. “No. All along I’ve been working so hard to see Grammie. This is happening. I’ll fly her over and pay for her treatment. Case closed.”
“But—”
“Grammie, ya hice la reserva de tu ticket. Te lo envío por email en la noche,” I say to her. To my parents, I mumble. “I’m going to go change.”
