“Of course, Patty. You’re making us all look good.”
All of us together. For nearly thirty years it’d worked. Grumblings and bickering were to be expected from a Family. Defined a Family, didn’t it?
Tomas had darkened at the notion, roiling up slowly that we weren’t ready, the country wouldn’t accept this Story. The country or him? Lenora sighed wearily. And Albert, dear dear Albert, her comrade, former lover, trusted right and left hand, he didn’t believe in this either. She attuned to doubts all around, even from the crew, edgy at setting up a visit inside the House. A vase had already been broken, Lenora gluing back the pieces so the shaken grip didn’t faint. Coffee spilled and cookies dropped, ground into the purple rug.
Grandma’s Bedroom was a terrifying place. She fluffed up a pillow.
“Grandmother, please.” The diminutive director Ian Schrage darted forward, hands prayerfully at his chest. “Don’t move. The light was so perfect.”
“I don’t want perfect, Ian.” She smiled.
“But I do.”
“And your wishes overrule mine?”
The room went very quiet. Ian hopped onto the bed, his bare feet gripping the purple quilt.
“Yes,” he said defiantly.
“Then I must defer to your superior wisdom.”
“That would be nice.” He managed a wry smile and hopped back behind the camera, the crew glancing at him with anxious admiration.
This was the America she wanted. Grandma muffled a grin so Ian wouldn’t get completely carried away, although with his ego, how could anyone tell the difference. This is what she had to get across tonight. How they’ve come of age. How they’re ready.
“Everyone quiet please.” Ian squirmed in his chair and cleared his throat. “Three, two, and one.”
Lenora sat up ramrod straight, eyes clear, shining, feeling like seventy again.
“Good morning, Grandma.” The stunningly beautiful Etsy flashed her dazzling white teeth. “A big day, today.”
“For everyone.” Grandma beckoned two children to sit beside her on the long purple couch. “I don’t do this very often.”
“It’s only the third time.” Valdez held up three fingers.
“Yes, the Food Story was the last one. Very important, right, R’hin?” Grandma snuggled a chubby little girl who looked like a Zelda clone, if clones hadn’t been outlawed as a capital offense.
“Yes,” the girl said shyly.
“And, of course, the Surrender Story,” Etsy said solemnly.
“The sad and the happy,” Grandma said quickly. “We can laugh and cry in the same day, don’t we, Gil?” She tousled the thick hair of a thin boy with oversized black glasses. “Today, I want to tell everyone about something that happened long before the Surrender. Before the War. R’hin, do you know what happened before the War?”
The little girl blinked. Half an hour ago she was on a school bus heading to third grade on East 181st Street before a smiling Blue Shirt took her in a car to this big studio.
“I didn’t do my homework.” Her lower lip trembled.
Grandma hugged her. “That’s okay, sweetheart. We’re not perfect.”
“People are like countries, right?” Valdez asked her one pre-arranged question.
“Yes.” Grandma pursed her lips. “Sometimes we make mistakes. The Allahs who wanted to kill us were bad. But not all the Allahs were bad. We know how religion and God makes people hate.”
You couldn’t wait until tomorrow, Puppy sighed, listening in the clogged streets to the audio from huge speakers mounted overnight on the side of buildings.
“But we were very angry at the Allahs. Innocent people got hurt.” Grandma sat the children on each knee. In the control booth, Cheng glared openly with no respect. She took a deep breath.
“We sent all the Allahs away because we couldn’t trust them. They didn’t behave like real Americans. We protected their mosques, places of worship like churches, and made sure no one hurt them as they went onto the boats back to Arabia. There were a few injuries, but, of course, nothing compared to what they did to us.”
Cheng shook his head minutely, opening his thoughts, begging Lenora to stop.
“As we didn’t trust the Allahs, they didn’t trust us. So they sent a lot of Europeans to us. One hundred and eighteen boats. More than a hundred thousand from France and Germany, remember now, the Allahs were elected in those two countries. A number of countries in Europe actually. They didn’t just invade everyone. Anyway, lots of boats. Lots of people. Lots of children. Lots.”
Grandma stared at Cheng, his eyes watering.
“We didn’t let them in. We worried it was a trick. This was just after the Allahs attacked Manhattan and the Grand Mufti, he is their leader,” she addressed R’hin and Gil, squirming in boredom, “insisted those were terrorists and he had nothing to do with it and honestly, why would we believe him? Look what terrorists did to Los Angeles. Terrorists and their government had the same goals. Surely among more than a hundred thousand people there would be Europeans who were secretly Allahs. That had happened before. I couldn’t risk that, losing another city, more of my Family.”
The First Cousin slipped out of the control booth, Grandma’s voice echoing down the hall.
“We made the ships stay at sea. We airlifted food and water and medicine until we could figure out how to make sure everyone who came in was one of us. Then the storm hit. It was a very bad storm. Worse than a hurricane, it came out of nowhere and sank all the boats. All the children.” She paused. “We couldn’t do anything and, after that, the Allahs destroyed Washington and the war was truly on.”
Grandma took a long sip of tea.
“We told everyone the Allahs had sunk the ships, but they didn’t. It was a lie. We didn’t think the Family was ready for the truth. I think you are, now.”
Grandma folded her hands. Etsy looked frantically at the director.
“Thank her and you’re done,” Ian hissed into her earpiece.
“Really?” Valdez blurted.
“Yes.” Lenora patted her arm. “That’s the end of this Story. Soon they’ll be a new one.”
21
For
