“The Grandmother”
“Skylar’s memories of Florida swirled around this muumuu-wrapped woman. He saw her welcoming him when he woke with offers of fresh-squeezed orange juice, bacon, and eggs, walking beside him in the morning on the beach collecting shells for use in the jewelry boxes and purses that she decorated, and encouraging him at dinner to try the local specialties, lobster and key lime pie, which she herself relished. Nadine was never more in her element than when vacationing in Florida. She loved the warmth of the sun and the tan it enabled her to sport, the seashells whose delicate, intricate beauty she understood and classified, the rich pigmentation of the lavish tropical flowers, and the elegance of the hotel restaurants, animated by live music, gorgeous dress, and fine spirits. His grandmother’s moods only ranged from tolerant to joyful; he could not remember ever seeing her unhappy or angry. And God knows she had a right to be, having as her mate the irascible Bull, for whom the language of the smile was as foreign as that of the Zulus. Bull would snarl an order for his breakfast, but his unflappable wife would answer only with a gay “It’s almost ready, pappy.” He would finish a political phone call and mutter, “Jesus Christ if these sons of bitches could possibly screw things up more than they have…” Nadine would pat him on the shoulder and say, “Now don’t you worry about it. Let me get you another glass of iced tea.””
