Page 5 of Eclipsed Legacy

“Grandma, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” she snaps before turning to continue her work. “I just want to reorganize this before the summer. Spring cleaning is important, you know. Otherwise, the place will turn into a cluttered mess!”

We all tense. Mel and Ray share a concerned look before Mel opens her mouth then closes it. She looks at me and widens her blue eyes, as if to say “Well?” This is not normal. Raina Ward is anything but frantic and anxious, and she sure as hell has never cared about clutter.

I sigh. “Bullshit.”

Grandma stops in her tracks. “Excuse me?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Bullshit.”

Grandma’s brows raise so high they nearly reach her hairline. She scoffs and places her hands on her hips. “Tala Ward, I know that you know better than to mouth off at me!”

I shake my head and cross my arms. “I’m not mouthing off, Grandma; I’m just calling bullshit, like you always taught me to.” Grandma’s olive skin begins to redden, but before she can go off, I continue, “Ray, Mel, and I all know something’s going on, Grandma, and you’re not telling us. We’re not twelve anymore. I’m the youngest, and I’m twenty-two. Hell, Ray’s like forty—”

Ray huffs, “Thirty..”

“Whatever! The point is that we’re old enough to handle whatever it is you’re trying to keep from us. We can tell you’re worried, so stop trying to hide it. Plus, Alice gave you away when I went to pick up your herbs. What do you need protective herbs for if there’s not something going on?”

For once, Grandma has nothing to say for a minute. “That’s my business. If you don’t want to help, you can leave.” Grandma closes her lips tightly until they form a straight line. She then proceeds to carry on, fidgeting with various herbs and other objects, as if none of us are there.

I look to Mel and Ray, but they only shrug. I throw my hands in the air. “For God’s sake! You are the most stubborn—”

“Watch yourself, Tala,” Grandma turns on me quickly, pointing her finger at me. “I do what I do to protect my family. What’s my business is mine. You have no right—”

“No right? Are you serious? This is my family, too! Just let us help you!”

A low, guttural growl escapes my grandmother’s throat, and her eyes flash, meeting mine in a challenge. My tiny grandmother, my abuelita, seems to grow several inches as she straightens. I stare back at her, the heat of my body rising before I remember myself and briefly look away in submission. When I look back up, her eyes are still raging. “Get out,” she says, quietly but firmly, her silent wrath more terrifying than her shouts. She points to the door. “All of you.” When we don’t move, she growls once more, “Now!” shaking as if about to shift.

Mel and Ray hurry out. I stand in shock, but Grandma stares me down, breathing heavily, until I turn to leave. Mel and Ray stand by Mel’s Toyota under Grandma’s motion light when I come out. Mel has her arms crossed and her jaw set, while Ray looks awkward and uncomfortable. Poor Ray always has avoided conflict.

“There’s nothing more we can do. If she tells us to leave, we have to leave,” he reasons.

Mel shakes her head angrily. Rarely have I ever seen her this angry. “I’m just sick and tired of trying to appease that ungrateful old bat!”

Ray anxiously rubs the back of his neck.

Part of me wants to jump to Grandma’s defense, but I get why Mel’s pissed. She’s sort of right. Grandma really doesn’t appreciate what a lot of her grandkids do for her. I’m also hurt. I guess I’m used to Grandma treating me differently than my cousins. Usually, I can speak candidly with her, and she responds the same. But tonight, she immediately shut me out, got defensive, and didn’t seem to understand that the three of us are only concerned and want to help. She overreacted. Grandma has always made a point to say that regardless of what happens between members of the family, her house is everyone’s home. She has repeated this over and over, especially when someone— my mom, usually— got into a petty argument with someone else. But the first time we go against what she says, she throws us out. I want to go back in and call her out for being a hypocrite. I’m a little pissed too, I guess. At the same time, I can’t help but worry about whatever Grandma is hiding from us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her act so skittish, so the way she nervously scurried about was alarming. Still, Ray had a point. We can’t stay if told to leave. We all probably just need time to cool off.

“You know what we should do?” I prompt.

“What?” Ray asks a little too quickly.

I can’t help but grin mischievously. “Head on over to Chris’s.”

Mel perks up. “I could use a drink,” she says.

“I’m down,” Ray adds.

“Need a ride?” I ask him.

“No, I rode with Mel.”

Mel beams before sticking her tongue out at me.

Thirty minutes later, I pull into Chris’s Bar and Grill, more than ready to down a few Dos Equis. The parking lot is surprisingly full for a Monday night, but Mel and Ray manage to find a parking spot near me. Some rednecks from opposite sides of the lot shout obscenities at each other. We happily ignore them and make our way to the front door, then the bar where a tall, muscular man with a military style haircut checks our IDs. Once we have placed our orders, we settle into casual conversation.

After the first few drinks, Ray’s clearly a bit buzzed. The poor guy doesn’t get out enough and has little tolerance these days. He begins to ramble on about his work— he’s a high school history teacher— and some of the crazy shit he deals with on a daily basis. Mel and I continue to drink as he delivers several anecdotes. After telling us about some insane helicopter parents, he goes on to institutionalized racism, “—and if I want to wear cornrows, I should damn-well be able to wear cornrows— not that I want to, but that’s not the point! It’sss part of my culture, you know what’s I’m saying?” His movements are sluggish and his speech slurred, so I can’t help but be amused. I know he’s only sharing this because of the alcohol, but he is genuinely upset and sweet, so I contain my amusement. Every little thing makes me want to smile. I can’t help but giggle at the notion before I remember that we were having a serious conversation.