Stranger

Lin

           

The kid seemed to be recovering well.  Every day, V and I helped change her bandages.  Her scrapes and burns were healing well.  Her bruised eye was starting to fade.  Somehow, my little firecracker seemed to be a bit calmer, a bit more open.  It had become a nightly tradition for Nora to join Sebastian and me for story time.  Her mother had never really read to her as a kid, and she seemed to enjoy the stories as much as Sebastian.  It was my favorite time of day.  My two oldest kids, one snuggled up to each side of me as I read aloud.

Sometimes I read the Spanish books we'd bought Sebastian.  Nora didn't know any, and I was determined to introduce her.  She'd grown up with exposure only to her white roots.  My side of the family had a deep appreciation for its culture.  As a first generation American, I made a point to hold on to my Puerto Rican heritage.  That's why Sebastian was already bilingual and could carry on conversations in Spanish with his grandparents.

After finishing the last book of the night, a Spanish title, Sebastian automatically started talking to me in Spanish.

"Papa, Podemos ir al parquet manana?"

"Tal vez.  Podria irse manana."

"Bueno," he said.

I stood up and Nora followed suit.  I leaned down to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight.

"Buenas noches, Papa," the little boy said.

"Buenas noches, Sebastian. Te amo."

We left the room and I gently shut the door behind us. 

"Are you two plotting against me?" Nora asked me as we walked down the hallway.  I laughed.

"No, he asked me if we could go to the park tomorrow," I told her.

"And what did you say?"

"I said maybe, it might storm tomorrow."

She nodded and I could tell she felt a little left out.  "You could learn Spanish too you know.  I could just drop you at my parents' for a couple weeks and you'd probably be fluent."

"Your mom would probably make me clean constantly," she countered.

"Probably," I agreed as we reached the kitchen.  "You've got young legs and a young back."

"Do they even like me?" she asked as I got out two glasses.  It had become a tradition at least a couple nights a week to have milk and Oreos together.  She seemed to open up when milk and cookies were involved.

"Of course they like you," I assured her.  "You're their granddaughter."

"But they don't treat me like Sebastian and Francisco," she said as I poured the milk.  Nora got the cookies from the pantry.

"Well, I think they're trying to take their queues from you," I explained.  "They're not sure what you're comfortable with.  They don't want to go too far."

I knew my parents had restrained themselves from being very physically affectionate with her, which was saying something.  My family was very affectionate.  We constantly hugged and touched, and it was natural.  Nora was a bit stand off-ish, and they didn't want to push too much.

"If you're ready, start giving them hugs when they come around," I suggested as we both started eating.  "They'll return."

Grandparents were a new thing for her, from what I understood.  She'd had minimal interaction with Laura's parents growing up.  It again made me sad, thinking of all the things she'd missed out on as a kid.  Story time.  Grandparents.  A father.