Mofongo

by Cecilia Samartin

  A few seconds later, the nurse entered the examining room carrying a tray laden with a variety of vials and needles, and for the first time, Sebastian was actually glad to see her.

  After the appointment, Sebastian’s mother dropped him off at Bungalow Haven. It was composed of a dozen or so detached dwellings that were just the right size for people who weren’t so mobile anymore. His grandmother’s yellow bungalow was located furthest from the street which made it an especially peaceful place to be. If the weather was warm and pleasant, as it usually was, she kept her front door and her kitchen window wide open which allowed a lovely breeze to waft in through the house. She much preferred this to air conditioning which she said was too noisy, and made her skin feel itchy and dry.

  Sebastian climbed the porch steps and peered in through the screen door, taking comfort in the sameness that greeted him. The old wooden chair with carved arms resembling two thick scrolls was in its usual place in front of the window. Little crystal faeries hung from the cupboard handles in the kitchen, and their delicate wings caught the afternoon sunlight reflecting translucent prisms of color against the opposite wall from which hung a large wooden crucifix. Next to the crucifix was a collection of family photographs. When Sebastian’s grandmother was feeling nostalgic, she was able to gaze at her photographs for long stretches of time. She’d arranged them like a giant flower so that every petal was a pictorial timeline of her children and grandchildren from birth to the present time. In the very center of the flower was a portrait of her and Sebastian’s deceased grandfather on their wedding day in Puerto Rico.

  Sebastian thought they made a particularly handsome, almost regal looking couple, Abuela Lola in her broad lacy collar, and Abuelo Ramiro in his dark suit and tie. They stared into the camera through ageless eyes, and Sebastian thought they looked very wise. Sometimes he imagined that he was able to jump into the photograph and pose between them. His own expression serious and slightly defiant too, his mood as somber as the grays and whites that colored their world.

  But the pictures that interested him most were those of his mother. When he learned that the young dark haired beauty in the bathing suit standing at the edge of the sea was his own mother, he couldn’t believe it. He studied the picture for a long time before he was convinced that the high cheekbones and sensuous mouth were actually hers. He had to concede that sometimes when she slept on her back and her skin was stretched smooth across her face, she looked a little like the woman in the picture, but he couldn’t believe that the slim supple body was hers no matter how long he looked at it, or how much he squinted. His favorite photograph of all was the one where his mother was sitting on his father’s knee laughing, as her hair floated on the breeze, and his father gazed at her looking as though his insides were melting.

  Sebastian entered the house surprised that his grandmother wasn’t sitting in her rocking chair as she usually was. He called out loudly so that she could hear him from the bedroom, but there was no answer. He took another step into the house and stopped cold when he saw her lying on the floor between the kitchen and living room with her eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He rushed to her side, and shook her shoulders. “Abuela wake up,” he cried, but she didn’t respond. He touched her face and then her hair that was soft as fine white rabbit fur. He lifted her limp hand, and when he let it go, it fell with thud to the floor.

  Sebastian began to rock and forth on his heels. He was having great difficulty thinking and breathing at the same time, but suddenly he knew what he had to do. He ran to the kitchen, filled a glass with water from the tap, and flung it into his grandmother’s face. Streams of water ran down the furrows of her face and neck, soaking her sweater and the carpet beneath her, but she remained motionless.

  He then ran to the phone in the kitchen and dialed 911. His fingers were trembling so furiously that the receiver almost slipped from his hands, and when the operator answered, he was momentarily speechless. “My grandmother is lying on the floor,” he finally blurted out. “She isn’t moving or anything.”

  “Can you confirm your address?” the operator asked calmly, but all the rushing around and upset had winded Sebastian and he needed to catch his breath before he could answer her.

  “Are you still there?” the operator asked.

  “Bungalow Haven,” he replied, gasping for air. “Where the old people live. It’s the little yellow house in the back.”

  “The paramedics are on their way,” the operator replied. “Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until they arrive?”

  “No,” he said, and he dropped the phone and returned to his grandmother’s side. He stared into her face, hoping to catch a glimpse of her eyelids fluttering, a twitch of her cheek, anything that would tell him she was still alive. But she remained as still and lifeless as the photographs on her wall.

  When Sebastian considered the possibility that his grandmother might be dead, he was overwhelmed with a cold and bewildering darkness. She was his security, his sanctuary, the reason he was able to endure the hardships of school, and the difficulties of being small and sickly. Knowing that she was waiting for him at Bungalow Haven every afternoon made it easier for him to get up in the morning. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered into her damp snowy hair. “Please don’t be dead.”

  And then he heard a wailing, followed by the thunderous rumble of many feet pounding in the distance, and that’s when he saw the button of her beige sweater shudder and shift over her throat. He lowered his ear to her chest and closed his eyes to listen as Dr. Lim always did. Sebastian couldn’t hear anything, but he sensed a vibration of some sort, and clung to the hope that his grandmother might still be alive.

  Chapter Three

  The thundering sound turned into a clatter, and all at once several men in uniform burst through the door of the little bungalow. Sebastian rolled out of the way, and the paramedics circled his grandmother so that he could no longer see anything but her feet which had somehow lost their shoes. Her beige sweater was tossed to one side, and the men began talking into large portable phones, and there were many metal boxes with complicated instruments that were being opened and closed one after the other. Sebastian tried to make sense out of what they were doing and saying, but their speech was dominated by technical language he couldn’t comprehend. Nevertheless, each time he didn’t hear them say that his grandmother was dead, he was reassured because he couldn’t imagine that there was another word for “dead” but “dead.”

  Moments later Terrence, the man from the Senior Center who’d been delivering Lola’s nightly dinners appeared in the doorway with his Styrofoam containers in hand. Sebastian was so relieved to see a familiar face that he sprung up off the floor and flung his arms around the large man’s enormous thighs.

  Terrence stood frozen in shock and horror as he took in the scene before him. Whenever he made his deliveries he often stayed for awhile and told Lola about his aspiring career as a jazz musician and composer. Over the years, they’d become good friends. Suddenly aware of the despairing child clinging to him, he reached down and lifted Sebastian up who then buried his face deep into the tangle of dreadlocks that flowed over Terrence’s shoulders and back. Ever since he saw his grandmother lying on the floor, he’d been holding back the tears, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “They’re taking care of her,” Terrence muttered, while placing a comforting hand on Sebastian’s back, but he didn’t sound very hopeful.

  One of the paramedics approached Terrence. “Are you a relative?”

  Terrence was surprised by the question, as he was black and Lola was a light skinned Hispanic woman. “Just a friend,” he replied. “But this is her grandson.”

  Sebastian wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve and reluctantly turned around. Over the paramedic’s shoulder, he could see that his grandmother had been placed on a gurney.

  “We’re taking your grandmother to the hospital,” the paramedic said. “We need to call an adult relative,
how about your mom?”

  Sebastian nodded, but he couldn’t remember his mother’s phone number at work, and helpless tears sprung to his eyes again. Terrence pointed to the kitchen. “I think the numbers you need are on the refrigerator.” Sebastian considered him a genius for remembering this. Yes, of course, the phone numbers that were printed in bold marker were always on the refrigerator, and Abuela Lola was very conscientious about keeping them current.

  The paramedic peered at the first number on the list, Sebastian’s mother’s cell phone, and dialed. Sebastian watched as the man spoke calmly while referring to his clipboard. He imagined his mother’s slack cheeks, her mouth taught across her face, her dark eyes darting back and forth as she received the horrible news. Would she scream and collapse or crash the car? The family had never faced anything like this before, at least not that he could remember.

  As the paramedics wheeled Lola out of her little bungalow, all of the residents stood outside on their porches or at their windows watching the somber parade until it reached the street. The paramedics explained that they’d be taking Sebastian with them to the hospital where they’d arranged for his mother to meet them. It was then that Sebastian spoke the first words he’d been able to utter since the paramedics arrived. “Can I take the food you brought with me to the hospital?” he asked Terrence. “Abuela Lola might be hungry later.”

  Terrance gave Sebastian the bag and the little boy crawled into the front seat of the ambulance next to the driver. The sirens wailed as they pulled away from the curb, and for a moment Sebastian was certain that his pace maker had malfunctioned and that the high pitched yowl was emanating from deep inside his chest, so he pressed his hand over his heart to make sure.

  “Is my grandmother going to die?” he asked softly as they whizzed through the streets toward Methodist Community Hospital, but the paramedic was unable to hear him over all the noise. He was driving very fast through the intersections, taking red lights, and expertly weaving through cars that had stopped because of the blaring sirens.

  Sebastian dared not ask again.

  Chapter Four

  Sebastian sat alone at the edge of his chair in the hospital waiting room with the bag of Senior Center food next to him. He knew by the smell that inside the bag were several boxes containing dry meatloaf, sticky mashed potatoes and a medley of bland vegetables swimming in butter. He often wondered if the elderly lost their sense of taste in the same way they lost their vision and hearing. Unfortunately there was, as far as he knew, no mechanical aid that could help with this disability. As much as Sebastian disliked the food, when he placed his hand on the bag, the warmth of it reassured him, as if it were confirming that his grandmother was still alive.

  A few minutes later, he heard someone in hard soled shoes rushing down the corridor, and looked up to see his father entering the waiting room. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, taking the seat next to his son and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

  “Is Abuela Lola going to get better?” Sebastian asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, his face somber, but then his blue eyes brightened up. “Hey, is it true that you took a ride in the ambulance?”

  Sebastian nodded.

  “Did they have the sirens going and everything?”

  He nodded again, and that’s when his mother and sister entered the waiting room. Jennifer was still in her cheerleading uniform, and her dark hair was swept up in a pony tail. The eyeliner she’d so carefully applied that morning was smudged in the hollows of her eyes. Sebastian’s mother explained that she was on her way to show a house when she got the call and that she had to swing by the High School to get Jennifer first or she would’ve arrived sooner.

  “Have you spoken with anyone yet?” she asked her husband.

  “No, I didn’t have the chance, I…”

  “I thought we agreed that whoever got here first would look for the doctor before doing anything else.”

  “Yes, but when I saw Sebastian…”

  “Damn you, Dean,” Gloria said, wringing her hands. “You know how hard it is to get information from these people during a shift change.”

  “I’m sure they’ll tell us everything we need to know soon enough. Why don’t you sit down for a moment and calm down?”

  “I don’t want to sit down,” Gloria snapped.

  “I think you should.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she said, her eyes bugging out at him.

  Jennifer stepped in as she sometimes did when things between her parents got tense. She’d witnessed enough arguments between them to know that it was best to intervene early. “Take a breath, Mom,” she said.

  Gloria turned with a start, and for a moment it appeared as though she might slap her daughter, although she’d never struck either of her children. She turned away and tried to connect with that core strength at the center of her being she relied on during emergencies like these. She should know that she couldn’t count on her husband to help her with this. This burden fell on her shoulders alone. That’s how it was when Sebastian was born and when her father died, and that’s how it would be now.

  Dean chuckled nervously, and cleared his throat while placing his hand on the crown of Sebastian’s head. “I just found out that our little man here came to the hospital in an ambulance with sirens blaring and everything. You know what Sebastian?” he said turning to his son. “They say that the pizza delivery man can get to your house faster than most ambulances, so maybe you should’ve ordered a pizza while you were at it, huh son? I could sure do with something to eat right now.”

  Jennifer stared at her father in dismay, and Gloria shook her head. Normally, she would’ve told her husband that he was no help, and few other things as well, but she was anxious to speak with someone who could tell her what was going on. She muttered something unintelligible, and marched away in search of a doctor or nurse.

  Once her mother was out of sight, Jennifer dropped down in the chair opposite her father. “Dad, do you really think this is the right time to be joking around? You know how upset Mom can get, and what if Aunt Susan shows up? It’ll only make matters worse for everyone if Mom is already pissed off.”

  This possibility hadn’t occurred to Dean. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his wife and Susan in the same room together. “Let’s hope for the best,” he muttered, and he tried to smooth the situation over with a smile for his son.

  Sebastian was well aware of the long standing feud between his mother and Aunt Susan. It had plagued the family for as a long as he could remember. He had no idea what provoked it, only that it happened many years ago around the time that he was born, and that no one was willing to say anything more about it when he asked.

  Jennifer sighed, pulled her cell phone out of her bag, and began to text away with a vengeance. Sebastian was amazed by how quickly her thumbs flew across the mini keyboard. Before getting her new phone, Jennifer spent much of her free time reading, and sometimes she would read to Sebastian at bedtime. He enjoyed this time with her, although he realized that what she said was true – he was getting too old for that kind of thing.

  “It was fast and loud,” Sebastian muttered, so that only his father heard him.

  “I’m sorry, what was that son?”

  “The ambulance ride and the sirens,” he said. “I hope I never go on another ambulance ride again.”

  Sebastian was still sitting next to his father when his Uncle Mando appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. He was a tall distinguished man with dark solemn eyes. In his crisp navy suit, he looked like a high ranking general, and it was easy to imagine his broad chest decorated with an impressive collection of medals and ribbons. But Mando had never been a soldier, he was a senior partner in a successful law practice.

  “Dean,” Mando exclaimed, while stepping forward, and both men clasped hands in a friendly manner. Dean was also wearing a suit as his mid level accounting job required, but his jacke
t was creased and lumpy around the shoulders, giving the impression that he’d slept in it.

  “How is she doing?” Mando asked, and Dean explained that they didn’t know anything yet, but that Gloria was looking for a doctor at that very moment who could tell them what was going on.

  “I didn’t recognize you at first,” Dean remarked. “You have a lot more gray than you did last time I saw you.”

  Mando ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair and chuckled just as his wife and daughter entered the room. Aunt Susan and Cindy had the exact same shade of honey colored hair, although it was well known that Cindy’s hair was professionally tinted to match her mother’s, something Gloria and Jennifer considered insulting as well as distasteful. Sebastian had overheard them say once that Susan lightened her daughter’s hair to disguise her Puerto Rican heritage.

  Everyone exchanged obligatory hugs and kisses which Sebastian found to be rather awkward. Jennifer stood up to engage in the greeting exercise as well, but her forced smile let Sebastian know that she was enjoying it about as much as he was.

  These pleasantries didn’t last long because moments later Gloria rushed back into the room, and an uncomfortable silence came over them. It was a shock for Gloria to see her sister-in-law after so many years, and her first instinct was to walk right out again. But after a few more seconds, she realized that this was one of those events to be classified along with weddings and funerals during which she had no choice but to endure her presence. With that, her gaze slipped over Susan and she addressed her brother only. “Did you get a hold of Gabi?” she asked, and everyone relaxed a little bit.

  “I spoke with her about an hour ago. I thought she’d be here by now.”