It was a Sunday afternoon, a dreary day in late winter when the sky hadn’t decided what it was going to do. We packed ourselves into Star’s car—She drove a red Chevie with grandmother sitting next to her. Judy and I sat in back.
At the last moment, Star had invited Judy who said she didn’t have anything else to do, being extremely pregnant. Judy carried a tote and placed it on the seat between us. I hardly had any room to move. Grandmother didn’t need convincing since a ride down the West Side Highway to visit a man whose name had risen to the level of myth, a name Star couldn’t mention without letting us know how he’d changed her life. I was there for different reasons, but knew I couldn’t refuse. We were in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the West Side Highway and it was drizzling. A string of rosaries and a blue hula dancer occupied the front dashboard.
Judy leaned toward the front, “All this car exhaust. I’m feeling sick.”
The wipers smudged the window. Star pressed her nose to the windshield and turned on the right-hand signal to exit. “
“You told us you knew how to get there.” Grandmother rolled down her window and waved to someone on the street.
“D’you know that man?” I asked.
“No, but it doesn’t hurt to be friendly.”
“I know the way,” Star said, “but planned on being able to see out the window.” Judy pulled a stick of cinnamon chewing gum from her tote and offered me one.
“You’re chewing too loud,” Star said, “and I’m trying to see out the window.” Judy spit out her gum and stuck the mess inside her tote. “Help me look for a parking spot.”
We finally found one and rang the bell. Joey opened the door. He looked like a Humpty Dumpty wrapped in a black cape.
“Estrella, my friend,” he hugged her.
Judy was the first to speak. “I’m Star’s, I mean Estrella’s, upstairs neighbor. My name is Judy. You might remember me, several years ago, I was Miss Bruckner Boulevard.”
Joey applied a small kiss to the red jewel on her finger. “Here is Lulu and abuela. Now we are complete. Sit,” he said, and motioned to the chairs surrounding a beautiful mahogany table. I’d heard Star describe it a thousand times. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Thank you,” Star said.
Not wanting to be impolite, everyone asked Joey to bring them a glass of something and sat stiffly until he came back from the kitchen. He strained Judy’s coffee through a cloth filter right into a pot on the table. After he was finished, he gave her a silver creamer with real cream and placed several slices of lemon on her plate. The beers were dark and foamy. Joey served them in glasses with a gold rim. He had poured my soda into one of those old-fashioned parlor glasses with the name “Coca-Cola” etched in white. For himself, he poured blue liqueur into a shot glass. Joey faced us from the other side of the table. There were tapestries on the wall, pictures of knights and women with skirts sweeping the ground. “What a day,” He extended his hands from beneath his cape and lifted his drink. “I’ve been on the phone all morning. People on the West Coast. They won’t leave me alone. They want to know how to live their lives.” We shifted around in our seats. “They want to know how to invest their money, on what day to get married, and where to go on vacation.” We relaxed. None of us were bothered by such ridiculous problems. “What am I to tell them? They won’t leave me alone.”
“What do you tell them?” Grandmother sipped her beer. It was always tea with a sugar cube held between her teeth or an occasional coffee. She never drank beer.
“I describe possibilities,” Joey said.
Judy sucked the juice from her lemon peel and placed it on the side of her saucer.
“I can’t believe people pay you to say such things. Back in the camps, we knew we were going to die. No one had to tell us.”
Joey lit a cigarette. “Ahh, abuela, but you didn’t die, and why not? If someone back then, as you say, said you were going to live, would you have believed them?”
“No,” she said, laying her hand on the table, several of her fingers twisted like branches. “I just wanted to live.” To my amazement, she took another sip of beer. “How did you get to be a witch?”
“Like Halloween?” Joey smiled,” with a tall hat and flying monkeys? Abuela, hat is a long and painful story, but here I am, in finally charge of my gift. And before we talk, I must congratulate you on your good health.”
Star, Judy and I said in unison, “Good health?”
“Why yes,” he said. “It’s the pickle juice abuela has been drinking. It has righted the relationship between her stomach and her kidneys. But I would also recommend adding sauerkraut.”
“Sauerkraut.” Grandmother mouthed the words.
“Yes,” Joey turned to Star, “And I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that water in your sink. Actually, you’re pregnant.”
“Pregnant!” Star screamed. “Pregnant!
“The water in your sink has nothing to do with Blanca.”
“Then what?” Star said.
Joey turned to me. “It was Lulu. She has a talent for getting’s people’s attention, and once you hold that birth party of Judy in a few months,” he looked at me and said, “it will be very exciting.”
We talked for another hour. Star refused a third glass of beer saying she had to take care of her baby. When we left Judy and Star, stood face-to-face, and gave each other a belly bounce and everyone clapped and shouted hurray! I had no idea how I’d managed to convince the water in Star’s sink to turn the wrong way, but once I got home, I was going to find out. Like Joey said, I needed to be in charge, he said. Grandmother burped from drinking all her beers and ended up going to bed early. I played one of her records and dreamed I was dancing with Roque when the doorbell rang.