Emerging Happiness

by Vannesa Blanco

On the brink of her bed Angelo laid and tugged at his grandmas champagne

sheets. She wouldn’t respond to him, since her mouth was filled with tubes. Grandma

Lucia was 76 years old, and Angelo came everyday after school to see his Lucia. Her

room was a dim orange, smelled of potent herbs, and was the biggest of the Mansion. The

room sat by the edge of the hill overlooking the ocean. Blasts of salty air hit Lucia’s face

and her lips began to move.

“Abuela Lucia, are you trying to talk? Say anything,” Angelo whispered.

She heard his tender voice, but was busy thinking back on mysterious dreams

she was having. She saw the silhouette of a ten year old, but she couldn’t see the face.

The person was in their room crouched by the bed, crying long rivers. Then darkness fills

her sight, and its was the end of the dream.

“Abuelita when will you ever talk, you have been like this for two years. Please tell me

Something,” said Angelo. His mood was dampened with sadness he loved his grandma

very much, she was his only friend. Over the years he had become agitated, and was

desperate for some words.

It was on the third Sunday of March that Lucia awoke. The entire town of Malaga,

Spain had heard of her recovery since they were the wealthiest family in which they

owned a fish industry.

Angelo was with her when she emerged from her deep sleep. He was playing with

his plastic toy soldiers on her bed when a cold hand suddenly touched his humid small

hand. The boy swung to her left side and he began to call out her name.

“Abuela Lucia, your awake!”

“Mi nino where am I? And what happened to me? Why look how big you have

gotten” she said all in one breath.

Angelo hesitated to say anything to her, since he knew she knew nothing of how

the family was. He dug his bitten nails into his tan arms, and he wondered what to

say. His parents had divorced, and he practically lived by himself because his dad left

with another woman. And his mom was never home.

“Grandma, I’m going to call all your friends and your sisters, so they could know

your awake” he said.

“I want to see your mom, where is she? I want to see my only daughter,” she

demanded.

At the young age of eleven Angelo was extremely mature. So he managed to make

a good lie, even though he didn’t want to lie to his grandmother.

“My mom is working out of town for two days so she will be back Wednesday,

but I’ll let her know” he said nervously.

The truth was his mom Ana was in a deep depression, and was barely home. The

town knew her as the town slut or crazy muchacha, but those titles were made up. Ana

was miserable for an unknown reason. Angelo thought of the times he saw his mom, she

was always messy looking;

“Mama, where have you been? Abuela hasn’t woken up today, but I still made

her lots of cards, do you want to see them?

“Sure hijo, later, I have to use the car, tell her…”

Their conversations consisted of her always having a reason not to be with him, he

pushed it off, and didn’t think about it, but he yearned for her love.

In the few weeks his Lucia awoke Angelo became a different person, he was

getting straight A’s, and he had gained the courage to ask the new girl in town to be his

friend, maybe even his girlfriend. Yet in math class on a luminous Thursday a crumbled

paper ball landed on his desk. He turned around and looked for the culprit, but no one in

their zone was looking at him. He opened the paper and what he saw amazed him, the

words remained engraved in his brain. He became zombie like for the rest of the day. He

didn’t even visit his Grandma Lucia. He flushed the piece of paper down the toilet, but he

kept on repeating the disgusting words. Angelo was to sickened, he blacked out.

“Que hago? Estevan put him in my room” she quickly said to her mom.

“I don’t what to do, but I don’t want !” said the mom. She was

pressing sticky dough through her hands, and was making tortillas for the fifth day of the

week. Countless rows of spices stood above her head, their small collection of silverware

was displayed in a tile table, and muggy picture frames decorated their small walls. The

suns rays were smothering the town to insanity, since the weather was humid and

scorching. The girl took out an old magazine and used it as a fan, she waved it so hard a

breeze reached Angelo, the droplets on his face suddenly felt cooler, that they awoke him.

“Where am I? Where is my abulea? Did she find that note, please don’t show

her,” Angelo franticly said.

The two women looked at him oddly, his sudden outburst had startled them, but the

young woman understood him a little. Even though she was poor, she went to school, and

took English courses.

“Hell..o we savved you from the streets, you laid… there

fainted, and …you had high fever,” she slowly worded to him.

“I fainted? My grandma must be worried, I have to go,”

“Sure but.. first eat something.. you’ll need energy for.. Your trip home.” said the

young girl.

The mother went outside into the thick heat, and managed to get a few oranges

before being soaked in sweat. She went to cut ten oranges and made a pitcher half full of

juice. Angelo didn’t expect an immense feast since he saw where he was. Their

house was a room, with two small beds, and a small kitchen in the corner. He drank the

warm juice, even though it had no ice cubes, he felt it turn cold in his mouth from the

refreshing acidity of the oranges.

“Thank you for everything, usually the people in this town don’t approach me,

they think I’m mean and spoiled, which is not true,”

“Its alright, you needed help, and we’re just glad you ok,”

Even though he managed to maneuver through the town by himself, he hated having

to encounter the actual townspeople. He could feel their stares and whispers. He was

always treated badly, no one gave him compassion. As Angelo walked by a crowd of

young boys, he had already predicted the near future.

“Hey, why don’t you lend us your mom, since she now is a free woman!” rattled a

kid.

The first time Angelo heard comments like these he cried, but he eventually

got used to them. He never said a word to anyone, but he felt different. The

street was empty, and he turned around and yelled at them,

“You freaks are just happy because your not the only freaks now! No one cares

about you animals anymore.” These guys were the ex talk of the town since they were

transvestites working as prostitutes. The were all Malaga gossiped about, but after

Angelo’s parents divorced, the nightwalkers were forgotten. One of them out of anger

took of his high heels and threw them at Angelo as he disappeared into the corner.

Without looking back, Angelo squeezed by the suddenly condensed streets as he

thought about what he had just done. Nothing was going right in his life, his whole

existence felt like a dramatic play. He was scared that the “boys” would find him and beat

him up. A sudden potent stench reached his nostrils, smoke of different types of herbs

reminded him about his grandmother. His current worry had changed to the one of telling

his Abuela of the mysterious note.

“I wonder how she would take it. What if she thinks I’ am lying?”

Colorful faces stared at Angelo, he had a pale tone to his face, was covered in sweat, and

he was talking out loud.

He was officially looking disturbed.

Angelo finally made it to his Abuelas Hacienda. The home’s mustard color and

blue iron gates made Angelo remember the summers he spent there. A familiar smell

shuck his senses, his Abuelas herb garden seemed bigger than ever. He plucked a couple

flowers and herbs and made a bouquet, to make his dim appearance look brighter, maybe

even happier.

The chipping fifteen foot door looked taller than he remembered, the whole

environment felt woozy and strange, but Angelo managed to slow down his world and he

ran up the stairs.

“Abuela, I’m here to talk to you, I’m sorry for not being here, it’s just that I’ve

been busy,”

She was reading a book, but she seemed to be somewhere else.

“What do you have to tell me?

He couldn’t imagine how she would react, but he felt like blowing up for help.

“In school yesterday, I got a note that said something horrible,”

He stood there, struggling to mouth of any kind of word.

“What? What did the note say, what is happening?

“I don’t know how to tell you…”

“Just say it, Angelo, if its worrying you so much.”

“It said my mom was working as a prostitute in other towns”

She dropped her thick book to the ground, and she looked into the ocean front, without

saying a word.

“Oh my, I knew something like this would happen, Oh gosh!” she said.

“What do you mean you knew!? Are you telling me that note is true?”

Angelo got up from his chair and backed away from her. He had become enraged.

“I think it is time you knew,” said Lucia

“Know what?”

“When your mom was ten her father, drunk, molested her! I as a young woman in

love more with her husband, didn’t believe her.”

“No, no, that can’t be true, my grandpa would never do that to my mom. He

would never molest anyone,”

“Well he did, but I managed to believe it years later, when another girl was raped,

I just knew he had done it,”

Lucia had been dreaming of a little girl crying for help. But she could never see

who it was, these dreams had become nightmares, and during the fifth dream she saw her

daughters face. It had broken her walls around that subject, she felt the times her daughter

told her, she had barely realized thirty years later that her daughters words were

composed of the truth.

“And you didn’t believe my mom!?”

“Son wait, I feel bad myself, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave…”

Angelo walked out of her room without considering what his Abuela was asking

for, he didn’t care about her at the moment. He was enraged with everything he was told.

His life felt like a lie, the one person he had left was the person that could of prevented

his families upheavals. His parents fought, they were never happy, they through things at

his direction forgetting he was even there. His mom was never home, and now he knew

why, and his dad was just a hard working man. He felt like a mistake. It all could have

been better, his grandma could of done something.

“Maybe I should do something.”

Angelo mouthed those words as he walked, a wave of compassion made him feel

different. He made his way to his room and took a long look at the few pictures he was in

with his mom. The black frames mimicked his mom’s cold eyes, he could see her

sadness, she had no smile, and her lips were straight as a ruler.

“I have to let her know I know about her horrid past, then maybe we could be

together like everyone else in Malaga,”

Angelo made to himself a little declaration, he dived into his wooden chair and

scrambled through his drawers for a notebook, he found a navy blue book that he once

used to write about ghost adventures. He looked for a crisp page and began to brainstorm

ideas for a better future with his mom. He thought of making her one of her favorite

desserts, flan, and to make her a “welcome” home party. However he suddenly

remembered his grandma, he thought of how incredible she was to be nice with him, but

that she wasn’t able to project her kindness to her daughter. That thought made Angelo’s

soul engulf with fire.

Several hours passed and Angelo woke up to the beam of the sun heating up his

brown hair. A panic shook him as he remembered his plan, he ran to the kitchen and

shuffled through their pantry, unfamiliar labels startled him. But he managed to find what

he needed, since he remembered making the creamy dessert with his grandma. A can of

condensed and evaporated milk, five eggs, a cup of sugar, and a teaspoon of vanilla

extract all went into a immense mint green bowl. Angelo placed the ingredients into a

long pan and baked the beige mix for sixty minutes.

“She usually comes on Saturdays, it will all be ready” he said.

He was used to her never being home when she promised, so he imagined the

worst. But that day felt different for him, he could feel her footsteps heading to the

hacienda.

Ding Dong, ding dong.

She was there.

“Hey Angelo, how are you?”

“Mama, I love you, I know everything, I’ll always be here for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

She saw a glimpse of herself in a picture frame, and she felt her skirt feel tighter

than ever, she covered herself. And she somehow knew what Angelo spoke of. She threw

herself into his frail, small arms, and he cracked a rare smile.