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I halt a bit of laughter. Her statement reminds me of Joaquin. Actually, a lot of things have reminded me of Joaquin. He’s been on my mind day, night, and in between. Every single day. Every single day since, he’s helped me find my way.
One day when I have enough courage, I will return to him. I don’t want to send any mixed signals. I still think about when he was making love to me, and in between every stroke of his splendid cock, he said one of these words, “I’m not letting you leave this town.”
It was like a sex spell or felt as strong as one. The hairs on my arms rise as I whisp my mind away from this memorable distraction.
“Well, I can’t lie, Nonna. When I read what they said, I took it personally.”
Grandma laughs, hearty and loud. I’m still upset she never played a witch, as she has the best cackle.
“Oh, stop it! Probably because you’re in your twenties. Life isn’t meant to be taken so seriously, but I can’t tell you young folks that. You’re all so obsessed with your goals and dreams that you shut out all the other possibilities of life.”
“Like…what? Raising a family?”
“That’s an example. Especially for women. I have a lot of thoughts when it comes to that.”
“You do? Like what?”
“I always wanted children. I wanted children because I wanted to raise independent children who didn’t feel like they needed to be anything else than what they wanted to be. Now…my parents wanted me in Hollywood. A few people from Evergreen told my parents they had a star on their hands. I was so beautiful and charismatic. I was in plays, and I would talk to anyone I could. When I was eighteen, my parents saw dollar signs, so they moved me out to sunny California and worked me like a dog. It clearly paid off, and for the most part, I thought I wanted that life, but I always wanted to be a mom to have a child who’dthink freely. Well, your mother is definitely that. She left us. But… some women genuinely don’t want kids and shouldn’t be mothers, and damn it, they shouldn’t be obligated to have them. But, I had the pleasure of raising you, too.”
My throat is getting dry. It happens from time to time when my mother is brought up.
The last I heard from her was a year ago. She sent me a box of random things, vitamin supplements, sea shells, eye drops, and a four-page letter about her botanical life in Costa Rica. She’s been an advocate of me living my dreams. I remember the pressure of feeling like I needed to do something big and grand like Grandma in Hollywood or like her in Central America. I need a “wow,” too.
“Well, I have been very fortunate to have you as the most influential woman in my life.”
“Yes, your Dad did a great job establishing time between him and us.”
“Very true.”
“But, what I want to know is…do you, Nadia, really want to be a big-time journalist, or do you want other things out of life?”
Here she goes, making this about me. This is supposed to be about her.
“Nonna, I’m the interviewer here.”
“It has to be a natural flowing conversation to get to the source of my truths. I’ve never been good at strict interviews, darling. I’m surprised no one was quoted bringing up that fact.” Grandma removes her hands from her abdomen, places each foot on the floor, and sits with her back straight against the couch.
She is so adorable. She is still gorgeous, but she’s now in that particular elderly spot where regardless of how pretty she was in her earlier years, she will be cute just because she is eighty-five.
“Right now, I need to make a mark. I want my name known for this work.”
“As an author or as a reporter?”
“Both. I’m a journalist, so I fall in between the two for the most part.”
“Do you want to stay in seedy Los Angeles to make your mark?”
“I like LA. And I need a beach in my life, the real sea kind, not a big lake or river. No offense to Evergreen.” I chuckle.
“Oh, I miss the beach. I’ll give you that. But I know I can always go visit one, and that’s what makes them extra special. They are not my every day.”
“That’s really it. Maybe in a few years, after I make my mark, love may come my way or international travel or —”
“It’s all possible simultaneously too. If we are honest with ourselves, we have days we want to work, and days we don’t. Not years or decades at a time. It’s foolish to think so…and I’d advise you to be open to your instinctive feelings. Being open is how you keep yourself honest with yourself. Sometimes things or people will come into our lives at not ideal times. And then that moment, that opportunity, or that person moves along and bam…you never come across something quite like that opportunity, or you never come across someone like that ever again. Trust me, I know.”
“Which means you have a story you want to share!” I tease.
Grandma yawns and fans her palm at me. I’m not sure what that means, but I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it right now.
