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Warmbodies: Yolanda
By
Camincha
What are Warmbodies? Warmbodies are company. Remember? That’s how I met Joseph, Ann said.
Of course she’s been lonely! I’m all the family she’s got. And Joseph had to leave. I’m glad to be back. Elsa thought. And her eyes widened in amazement, while a smile played on her lips as she listened, Oh! what Ann thinks of to spice her life. Well, it works for her!
Elsa getting reacquainted—It has been five years!—enjoyed the familiar white on white walls, leather couch, marble table. Elegant, like Ann, the trim, pretty seventy-five-year-old bringing in the tray. Meantime the red wine, delicious Chateaubriand lingered on her palate! And perfumed the room as she looked forward to the dessert with the background humming of the refrigerator, the rain falling on the window, the logs crackling in the fireplace. Seventy-five, and still so active!
What did you say? Ann smiled.
I said, what a dinner! Thank you! and love those orchids floating in the glass bowl. I remember when father brought it from Italy. How he used to enjoy evenings like this with us. I’m lucky I still have you. Lucky I don’t have to worry about should or shouldn’t I “put her in a home” Like Mary is having to do with her mother. Heart breaking.
Oh! my favorite, cherry chiffon pie! and Elsa Mary is having to do with her mother. Heart breaking. poked a finger in the luscious dessert and licked it with relish. This is delightful, thank you. I just realized, you are recreating the home-welcomed-dinner of five years ago that I enjoyed so much.
Later on mother and daughter settled in front of the fireplace. Elsa, her head on her mother’s lap as when she was little, ready to listen to a story, on cold winter nights.
Tell me the latest Ann, about...what’s that lady’s name?
Yolanda. Well, as you know writing is a lonely occupation, Ann started. Just you and the computer, specially when you have to meet deadlines. Warm- bodies break the monotony of the day. So I make one hour appointments with plumbers, electricians, carpenters, as I did before, just to have someone to talk to. Sometimes, though, somebody shows up who is going door to door. A neighbor. A sales person. A censor taker. A real state agent or wannabe politician canvassing the neighborhood. Or, or a preacher. That’s what Yolanda was. And for a whole year we met every Monday for an hour. She was a warm, good person. Very pretty. You know how they go house to house. And, let me tell you: Yolanda was devoted to her sect, or religion. No. No. Religion. They call it religion.
Did she try to convert you? Why am saying this? She is seventy-five, hasn’t said she converted. I should just listen!
Well, you are right. I think that’s their purpose. They do try. Anna’s laughter brought on the crackling cough again and Elsa made a mental note to get her mother a doctor’s appointment. But nooooo. I didn’t convert of course. I’m just saying during that year I threw away all the freebies full of handymen ads. And the flyers from stores, compa-nies offering me lifetime peace of mind if I bought aluminum siding for my house. And it was aluminum siding which as you know did do me a lot of good because that is how I met Joseph, that hunk, shining executive. Sweet Joseph. Too bad he had trouble with his visa....
Have you heard from him?
Yes, we write back and forth. He settled in Krakow.
Oh! he is in the Capital?
Yes. He has family, friends there. Wants me to go visit him. I think I will.
Do.
Yes. Yes, you are right. I will.
So, what about Yolanda?
One day Yolanda showed up at the door with her bright smile, we introduced ourselves, she called me Mrs. Chavez, I said no missus here. I explained: my husband died, brought my daughter by myself! don’t use Mrs.
Elsa smiled. Tears filled her eyes as always when memories flooded her of a childhood full of her mother’s brave acts, standing up for what she believed in. The least I can do now is listen. I’ll find time for shopping, cleaning, tomorrow. You did tell me about having lunch with her. I remember I was in Singapore for a convention. When I phoned that night you said Yolanda had you over for lunch.
Well, she was the person preaching door to door that I’m telling you about. Oh! she was great company for so long. Very warm. We always hugged when we met. But you wouldn’t believe what happened.
What?
She suddenly got an anxiety attack.
An attack?
No. No. Not an attaaack! Well, I’ll tell you. I mean, an anxiety attack...
Elsa sat up straight. Those can be dangerous. Were you alone with her?
Oh, no, no my little lamb, no, no. It was like this, Yolanda’s anxiety attack came about from the pressure she got from her sect, or denomination. No. No. Religion. It came from the pressure they put on her to get a yes or no from me, did I or didn’t I read the Bible? The Bible that says that Jesuschrist appeared in 1942 to save us and that there is room in heaven only for one million, nine hundred ninety-four-thousand-and-one person.
Elsa laughed with Ann at her earnest to explain it all.
But before Yolanda’s anxiety attack came on fast and furious, we had been having one hour sessions full of positive exchanges once a week. I would
save the dishwashing and some light cooking to do to the sound of Yolanda’s voice. Dishes and cooking that way is fun. We always did the dishes together, remember? Well, Yolanda became my friend. As close as an active member of her religion dares to be a friend of someone who hadn’t given her a categor- ical yes to: Do you believe in Jesuschrist? Do you believe in the Bible, that it is the word of God? Once, Ann continued, I tried to tell her,——care- fully, I didn’t want to jeopardize the delightful weekly hour we spent together——so very carefully I presented Yolanda with: Do you know? I was smiling a big smile. Do you know there was a time when God was a woman?
She was perplexed. A...what? A woman?
Oh, you can’t imagine. Her pretty sweet face clouded with pain, trying to understand, was I joking? God a woman?
So I explained: Before the Judea-Christian religion took over the world...
Yolanda’s expression relaxed. Oh! that was a long time ago. Oh! But now we know the truth. You see? The Bible and Him are, we know, our Salvation, she said.
So I dropped it. If ever Yolanda was to change her mind, it wasn’t going to be because I had presented her with any facts. Yolanda wasn’t open to facts. She was firmly anchored in her religious program- ming. Her whole life revolves around her religion. No, doesn’t revolve around it. It is her life. And she confided to me a concern she had: Marcelo, her husband, objected to her “preaching the word” on weekdays.
Why on weekdays? Elsa asked, getting up to stir the logs in the fireplace, and stretched lazily feeling the sweet effects of the wine. Back on the couch cuddled up to Ann. This is fascinating to me ‘cause I don’t know anything about them, I see them around, mostly in the main streets of San Fran- cisco, she said.
Same here. What little I know now I learned from Yolanda. She told me: Marcelo wants me home when he is at work. Sometimes I have to rush around a little——we were in her kitchen. She lowered her gaze as if searching for words in the linoleum floor——so I get it all done, errands, driving the girls to and from school. It, it works out.
However, I do feel so bad for her! Her husband is an alcoholic.
No!
But when she talked about it was like she wasn’t worried. More like amused...as if sharing a joke. She told me he drank every day, even on the job. Drove around drunk and had been arrested so many times that he was suppose to surrender soon to an extended jail term. But, she never invoked Jesuschrist’s help in her husband’s predicament or asked my opinion.
She never asked your opinion on anything?
Well! Yeah. About different things. Like about teenagers. Yolanda has three teen daughters with lots of problems: Asthma, lack of motivation at school. And she also worries about how to write complaint letters that will get her results. Worries about where to find good thrift stores. Worries about frozen foods. Are they safe? How best to cook them.
She couldn’t have asked a more informed person. Elsa smiled and there was mischief in her eyes.
Ann caught the drift and smiled out ‘the corner of her mouth: Thank you, love. That’s true. In fact, after two or three months of our noon meetings I had felt wasn’t out of line to venture that her husband’s alcoholism might affect her daughters.
Yolanda looked worried then, you know? So I hastened to explain: Daughters usually gravitate to men that resemble their fathers. Well, she disregarded it immediately.
While she agreed with me, there was only a trace of concern in her eyes when she said, Well. Yes. I have heard that. I think from my aunt, Yolanda murmured.
Ann’s voice was low and her smile not as bright, as she continued, even though, Yolanda never completely relaxed her “preaching,” we had fun. Like I said we kept going for a year. She told me of the happiness it gave her to fulfill the many, obligations entrusted to her. She had to go to meetings, weekly, monthly and quarterly. She had assemblies and preaching. Always “spreading the word of Jesuschrist to save the people.” “Preaching” gave meaning to her life, it was essential to her well being. So it didn’t surprise me she would bring out her Bible and read verses out loud to the background music of the water running from the faucet or the microwave’s beeper as I buzzed around the kitchen.
Once, I tried to tell her that perhaps her time could be better utilized taking classes, preparing herself for a career, a job. What if something hap- pened to Marcelo? I asked. Maybe you can do this, this preaching, when the girls go to college....
The look in Yolanda’s eyes stopped me and never again did I try to tell her that I thought she should postponed her preaching or that college was a good idea.
Her irate reply was: Our girls don’t need college. In college they don’t teach them about Jesuschrist. Seeing the amazement in my eyes she softened her expression with a smile and went on, And our boys go to work for United, we don’t need college.
But she is good a person, Ann sighed, and her smile brightened again. For instance, we had been meeting for about six months when for my birthday, in May, a beautiful, sunny day, Yolanda invited me to lunch at her house. But of course never acknowledged that it was my birthday. Her religion doesn’t allow them to celebrate birthdays. Did you know that?
I think I heard that, also they don’t celebrate patriotic or any religious holidays. Right? Elsa said.
Right. Well, that day I saw another side of Yolanda. I arrived at her house which I liked a lot, it was big, full of lovely, frilly, lacy curtains, oversized furniture. I was worried being a few minutes late. But she didn’t even notice.
Yolanda greeted me with our usual warm hug, smiling, exuberant, cheeks a deep rose, almost magenta. Eyes shining. She was flying all over the kitchen, apologizing time and again for not having anything ready. I tried to put her at ease as the kitchen started to fill up with some appetizing aromas: sautéed onions, garlic, cilantro. Broiled meat. Baked potatoes. Chocolate cake! but she was so high, didn’t even hear me. Next thing I know, I heard her say: I’m so happy.
Great. What about? I said.
Going out to preach Jesuschrist’s word every day. I can get ninety hours in one month doing it that way. Every day.
I was speechless. Ninety hours out on the streets! What about her home, her husband, her daughters with all their problems?
Yolanda answered my silent question, Marcelo is in jail.
Shocked, I just stared.
I didn’t tell you? Yes, he surrendered last week. Her smile didn’t diminish. The light still shone in her eyes. She might as well have been talking about entering the Kingdom of Heaven. She went on: And I want to finish my ninety hours before he gets out. He’ll never know. When he is here I can’t do it. You know how he is.
I wondered, could this be why Yolanda had never shown any concern about her husband’s alcoholism? Had she actually been looking forward to this? I never found out ‘cause right after that day, I lost her.
Elsa was going to interrupt. But Ann in earnest, l’ll tell you why. Tell you why, the following week Yolanda arrived at our appointed time, twelve noon. She was always on time. Anyway, she arrived with cheeks flushed and eyes glazed with a desperate look I had never seen on her before. And as soon as she walked in, she disposed with our usual hug and fired her question:
Do you believe in the Bible?
In-the-Bible? I stammered through my surprise.
Yes.
As for what, in what...?
The word of Jesuschrist.
Well...Oh, l saw it coming then, no more cozy weekly meetings. But there was no time to commiserate. Yolanda was at it again, full force, about Jesuschrist. About the importance of the Bible. A Bible that is His word.
Well no...mean...I.... I stammered.
Yolanda was out the door. That was the last time I saw her....
Copyright © 2007 Camincha
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