When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part Three : Chapter Fourteen

My abuela listed down all the ingredients which deserved to be cooked in a pot and eaten, but she recommended them as a remedy to put on my damaged hair in order to convert it into healthy hair. I glanced at Marta whose eyes were glinting in mischief from above the laptop. My abuela having caught our little exchange, justified, "Look at your cousin's hair, Mariana. So beautiful, isn't it? She took my tips seriously."

Marta nodded and I scrunched my nose at her when abuela wasn't looking. The baby finding my face funny burst out in a fit of gurgling laughter, making us all smile. Abuela got up from the comfy sofa with difficulty and went straight to pick up her grandson, cooing to him and calling him affectionate names. "He'll grow up to be smart and handsome. Mariana, did you know that your papá was handsome?"

I did know that, but I feigned surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, he had so many ladies after him. But he fell for your . . . " She shook her head regretfully, focusing her attention back on the clueless child.

"She got married again," I said and feeling the need to clarify, added, "My mother."

"Save the poor man who married her!"

"He's equally worse."

"Match made in hell, then?" She winked at me, making Marta and I laugh.

"I'll go cut the meat for lunch. Is it in the fridge?" I asked and she turned around, giving the jolly baby to me.

"You take care of little Juan. I'll go make lunch. You have been doing a lot of work here---"

"I don't mind---"

"Aye, shush, shush." She placed her wrinkled finger on her mouth and frowned. "If I don't work at my age, my bones will fall out."

"What are you saying, abuela?" Marta commented. "You're in in the prime of your life."

The soft baby in my arms began laughing, some spit spilling out of his tiny, puckered mouth as if understanding us and abuela placed her hands on her hips in mock hurt. "Juan has become too smart, huh."

The baby amazing all of us, clapped his tiny, cute hands.

Abuela couldn't resist playing with the boy again before she went to make lunch. I sat on the sofa next to Marta with her baby on my lap. I was wearing one of our cousin's hand-me-down olive green cardigan (I hoped Marta wouldn't recognize that it was second-hand from our own cousin) with golden buttons. The baby's eyes shone with a golden glint as he tried plucking the buttons.

I remembered the day when I realised of my feelings for Isaac, on Allison's birthday when we danced together in her lawn. That day we had played with a baby who had fisted Isaac's curls. Such random memories of him kept frequenting my mind among other things, all of which made me immensely sad.

"What happened to you? These past days with us hasn't been that enjoyable?" Marta asked, her gaze fixed on the excel sheets in front of her.

"No, it's not that---" Suddenly my phone rang, an unpleasant ringtone like that of a standard alarm clock's which I hadn't bothered to change. The baby flinched and started shedding tears faster than a waterfall. I cut the call quickly, it had been from Allison. 

Marta grabbed the baby from me, swiftly getting up and soothing him by patting him on the back and swaying. "I got him. You pick up your phone."

"It's alright, wasn't anyone important."

"I have to feed him anyway." She disappeared into the privacy of our shared bedroom.

The phone rang again, that annoying noise which made me pick it up. "Hey, Ally."