Franglais

It was an unbelievable type of hot in Mesa, Arizona.  It was my first time visiting my grandmother, a woman who I only talked to on the phone until this visit.  I was twelve years old and was a shy girl.  I often eavesdropped as her and my mother spoke fluent French to each other on the phone, only picking up certain key words. 

I was hunched over my Cheerios and glanced over at my grandmother.  Silence filled the room as I watched her slowly scrub each item in the sink with a dishtowel thrown over her shoulder.  She was tall and gangly with wrinkles down her arms.  Her frumpy olive green dress fell just below her knees, and she was standing barefoot.  Screaming red and scabby blisters lined her heels.  Her short, tight, blond curls wouldn't budge no matter what.  As I ate my last spoonful of cereal at the small round table adorned with a teal and yellow floral tablecloth, I finally got the courage to speak.

Gulp. "Grandmère?"

            She lifted up her head, but didn't turn.  "Yes, Natalie?"

            "What was Grandpère like?  Maman doesn't talk about him because it makes her sad.  Maman est triste touts le temps."

            A wave of fear passed over me.  This French woman who claimed to be my grandmother took a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it go.  She turned to me, still holding a wooden spoon from the sink, and dropped her head. After what seemed like an hour, she lifted her head, and her bright green eyes connected with my dark, chocolate brown eyes.  The eyes startled me, she looked mean. 

            "Grandpère était un homme beau!  Qulequ'un qui aime beaucoup ses enfants, et il était mystérieux."

            "Mais Grandmère, je ne comprends pas!  En Anglais sil vous plait?"

            "Grandpère was a handsome man.  Someone who really loved his children and he was mysterious.  Did you know Natalie, that grandpère was 14 years older than me?" she said in a soft and sweet tone.

            My mouth dropped.  I wasn't expecting her to be nice.   "14 years older? Was he your father's friend? What do you mean he was mysterious?"

            She got up and rummaged through a tall oak cabinet in the hallway and sat back down. 

            "Ici.  C'est un photo de ton grandpère.  Do you see the uniform that he is wearing?"

            "Yes, he was in the Army…en France?"

            "Non, he was in the US Army.  He often came over on boats when he was needed.  Grand bateaux.  Ton grandpère, he fixed airplanes and even was a spy!"

            I couldn't believe my ears.  My grandfather was amazing, even better, ma grandmère était merveilleux!