Charming

..........My mother and i did not visit with my grandmother very often. Thank the sea, as they say. I don’t say that.
..........I love movies. In many ways and on many occasions, i have iwished that my life were like a movie. In my fantasies, i always saw my self as a tall, blonde, white girl. I wished that i were class president of my high school and valedictorian. Smart and pretty, yet, sensitive and quirky. I treated my citizens equally no matter what side of cool you were on. My friends and i looked through magazines as our soundtrack played in the background. We chewed pink and purple gum in my pink and purple room and wore pink and purple headbands.
..........In the film of my fantasies, my mother sparkled like she had done in high school. My aunts were exiled to a land far, far away. My brother and my sister were returned to me. That was my biggest and most passionate and most frequently viewed movie. Less watched, but equally yearned for was the film of a sweet and timid and lavender-scented grandmother. Oh, how i wished it were based on a true story.
..........The first time i remember meeting my grandmother was just before the accident. She had her arm around my mother’s shoulder, smoking a cigarette.
..........“Ma! You’re gonna burn my hair!” my mother waved her away.
..........“You oughta tie that mess back,” my grandmother returned and stepped away, She sat down in her chair, hers and hers only. This was not like dad’s chair, not a big, comfy, leather chair that reclined. This was not marked off-limits because the kids fought and clamored over it and it was never free when dad got home. My grandmother’s chair was pock-marked with cigarette burns. Sitting in the chair, she rubbed tiger balm over her arthritic knees and shoulders. The excess was smeared on her nightgown and over the chair of her chair. Her frequent, open-mouthed naps had left a permanent stain on the right side of the headrest. She farted loudly and wetly into the sweat-stained seat of the chair.
..........Charming.
..........My grandmother had 18 beautiful years with my grandfather. They had been married for 25, a quarter of a century. The last 18 had been the good ones, don’t worry. When my mother was born, the man my grandfather had been died. My mother was a light by which my grandfather could see the good things of the world and his home. From the first time he held her, the slouch that had become his permanent posture blossomed into an open-hearted embrace. He embraced his new daughter and the rst of his family. Finally.
..........My mother did it without trying. Without trying, she united a family that had long ago fallen apart (i’d rather have a good water metaphor - “long ago been threwn against the rocks by their ocean of tears” but not quite so heavy-handed.) Her family warmed itself by my mother’s light.
..........Her sisters were confused by the transformation and the sudden attention flowing from their father. They appreciated, but were suspicious of hid doting. As f her did it not because he wanted to, but because my sister had somehow, as a newborn, taught him that it was the right thing to do. Even if his praise were sincere and unprompted, it came as a result of my mother coming into the world. Because of six years of mediocrity paternal affection, when it was freely given, the twins doubted they were deserving of it.
..........For my grandmother’s part, she was only happy to have her husband back. The responsibility of fatherhood had not been a good color on my grandfather the first time around. He took long hours and long business trips and brought home gifts from far-away places and a big paycheck. He had lots of dinners in expensive restaurants with expensive business clients. He drank too much at these dinners and drove home unsteadily. Sometimes he drank so much he forgot to go home. Or he would mistake another woman’s bed for my mother’s.
..........My grandmother drank red wine and smoke cigarettes. When i met her, her teeth were stained with a purple-yellow coating that made her lips and mouth look bruised. It was during my grandfather’s nights away that the seeds of the habits first took root. During the day, the neighbor women visited to smoke cigarettes and have their hair done and tell my grandmother to leave my grandfather.
..........My grandmother was holding out hope for another plan. She wanted a son. Twice a month, she prayed, prayed, prayed. After they were finished, she would excuse herself to the bathroom, where she would stand on her head for three minutes.
..........For five years this was the ritual. A visit to the doctor revealed that there was nothing wrong with her. The fault was with her husband.
..........There was nothing to be done. She had been lying about her method of birth control for years. All she could do was pray, pray, pray. Everyday, she went to the water chapel and prayed to water and God who had made the water. Soon, someone above or below took notice.