My mother had a mother whom I had heard very little of in those first thirteen years of my life. But, around the time I met Marlena for the first time, I also began to hear more of my grandmother. My mother took me to visit her once too—her house was in a remote corner of the town it took us three hours to reach—and made me talk to her. Not that the old woman understood half of what I told her about my school, but that conversation helped transform the notion of an abstract ‘grandmother’ to a more concrete ‘Grandma’ in my mind.
“Grandma is sick,” my mother told me on the way back home.
“What has happened to her?” I asked.
“Age has gotten to her. She cannot remember things. She fails to recognize people. It is good that you spoke with her now at least.”
“Why did I not speak with her earlier?”
“You don’t want to know about all those things. They are too far back in the past. Only remember this. It was not your fault that you did not meet her before today. Not my fault either, nor your dad’s. It was her own fault. But now she is old, she is sick, and such things should be forgiven.”
My mother spoke that like the true Christian she believed she was. I nodded.
And then when Grandma began to fall sicker, Mother had to visit her more and more. She could not take me with her all the time, and she did not trust me to be alone at home either. She always had the paranoia that I would keep the television running and doze off and the television would explode due to the heat. So, she began to scout for people to babysit me.
One day she asked Aunt Mercy, a neighbor of ours, to keep me at her house. Aunt Mercy had another sister named Candice and they spoke all through the afternoon as I pretended to bury myself in my books. Their talks were full of gossip, which was guarded at first owing to my presence in the house, but then became looser as they realized I was not interested. If only they knew how sharp my ears were! I could hear them even as I read the answers aloud to myself.
In the evening, they were joined by another old hag, Aunt Janet, and the threesome had a merry time chatting about anyone and everyone. Except my mother, of course, for I was right there.
And then the discussion veered toward the inevitable topic of Miss Nose in the Air. And no sooner did I hear that name than my ears stood up on end.
“I have heard she is an actress,” Janet said.
“No, no, she has a daughter who is an actress,” Mercy said.
At that Candice let out a little snort and said, “Judy told me… Judy, that choir organizer… anyway, she told me that she has a husband without marriage.”
This brought out sufficient oohs and aahs from Janet.
“He is some kind of movie director,” Candice said with effect.
“Oh, these Hollywood people!” Janet said as though she had been living in Hollywood since the earliest times in its history.
“He comes to visit her sometimes,” Mercy added.
“Does he now?” Janet said. “I wonder when he comes.”
“It’s always after rosary time,” Candice said. Rosary time for the Catholic families in The Seabird meant 8:45 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.
“And…” Mercy said, casting a furtive glance at me and lowering her voice, “he leaves in the mornings.”
More oohs and aahs.
And that night, when I was back home, I don’t know why I found myself imagining Marlena with the unknown man who was supposed to be her ‘husband without marriage’. I could not clearly understand what they would do for a whole night—maybe watch those late night movies that were prohibited for me? I thought of asking Johnny about it, but somehow I didn’t want to tell him anything about Marlena. I wanted to keep all information I knew about her to myself. I don’t know where that possessiveness came from, but I want Marlena all to myself.
