Letters from Heaven / Cartas del cielo (6 page)

“Whenever you're ready, Celeste. You know I'll always have a space waiting for you.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could get a job,” I say, timidly.

“But Celeste, you are too young to work . . . ”

“Well, I wanted to ask you, maybe. . . perhaps, I could help with the classes for little ones,” I say, “like a job.” I'm embarrassed to hear myself saying this.

“What a good idea, Celeste!” Miss Robyn says. “I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Of course you can! You can be my helper with the kiddie class in exchange for your lessons!”

“Really?” I ask her, clearly surprised.

“But you have to ask your mother first,” she tells me. “Tell her to send me a note saying she's okay with this arrangement.”

“Of course!” I tell her. “And thank you so much. You don't know how much this means to me.”

“Thank you for suggesting the idea, Celeste,” she adds, “I'm very happy I can help.”

Grandma was right. “
Most people like to help
.”

9          
FLAN

My Dear Celeste
,

I'm running out of time, but I didn't want to leave you with a memory that is salty or sour, but with a sweet one. In life, you will get to eat many different foods, some that taste good, and others, not so much. Some will be so spicy that they will make you cry, and others so exquisite that you will remember their taste forever. That is how my life has been: sweet, bitter, sometimes perfectly seasoned and, at times, too salty or completely bland . . . But when I think of you and your mother, the memories that come to mind are always sweet. That is how I want to say goodbye to you, so that when you think of me, you have a memory of something sweet
.

Here I'm sending you the recipe for the flan you love so much. Be careful when you make the caramel: when the sugar begins to
melt you have to work quickly and attentively, because if you don't, the caramel will burn or you may end up burning yourself. And don't rush it. Everything good takes time. When the flan is ready, refrigerate it overnight. The next day, before sitting down to eat it, cover the table with a nice tablecloth and put a flower in a vase. Take out a cloth napkin and use a nice plate. And then sit down and eat it slowly. When you take that first bite up to your mouth, drenched in caramel, close your eyes and smell the sweet aroma. In that instant, I'll be right by your side
.

Don't be sad, my dear Cielo. Remember me with love . . . and flavor!

Your grandma that loves you
,

Rosa

My hands shake as I read the final words. I know that I'm holding my grandma's last letter. I think about how all I have left of her are just a handful of recipes. I think about how I'll never know how she's been sending me these letters after she'd gone. I think that no matter how many times I cook them, my dishes will never taste like hers. And, all of a sudden, I hear her voice murmuring into my ear: “
Remember me with love . . . and flavor!
” That's why she sent me these recipes! The coffee, the
cangrejitos
, the
congrí
, the
ropa vieja
. . . The recipes
were like spells, so that every time I make the food, Grandma could once again be with me!

As soon as Mami gets home from work, I show her the letter. She gets really sad, and I let her cry. But later, I have a great idea, something that Grandma would've loved.

“Mami, Grandma asks us to remember her with flavor, right?”

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

“I get it!” I tell her, jumping up and down with excitement. “Think about all the recipes that Grandma sent . . . What do they have in common?”

“They were the ones you liked best,” she says.

“And what else?”

“I don't know. They're all from Cuba?”

“Yeah, but not just that,” I tell her. “If you put them together, we have a dinner! Look, Appetizer:
cangrejitos
. Main course:
ropa vieja
. Side dishes:
congrí
and
mariquitas
. Dessert:
flan
. Don't you see? Grandma wanted us to have a dinner—to remember her!”

Mami's tears immediately disappear and I can see that Grandma's magic is working.

“That's a fantastic idea!” she tells me. “Let's do it this weekend.”

“We'll set up an elegant table with a fine tablecloth, flowers, candles. Just like she used to like it,” I say. “With music in the background!”

“Invite your friends,
cielo.”

“And Lisa and Doña Esperanza!” I say. “I want it to be a real celebration.”

10          
FAMILY DINNER

The table is set with candles, red carnations and a yellow tablecloth. We decorate every napkin with a sprig of rosemary, like Grandma used to do for special occasions.

“
A good table requires color, texture and smell, even before the food is served
,” I remember her saying. “
Everything needs to be picked out carefully: don't choose flowers that have too strong a scent that will compete with the food. That's why carnations are perfect: they're bright and colorful, and their scent is subtle. To add some greenery, mix in some herbs with the flowers: basil, rosemary and thyme from the garden will complement most dishes. Remember: everything serves a purpose
.”

A tray is set with very small
cangrejitos
and, next to it, there's a warm loaf of bread wrapped in a white tea towel. Doña Esperanza is in the kitchen frying the plantains. The
congrí
and the
ropa vieja
are in the oven, so they'll stay warm until we're
ready to eat. Mami brings a lettuce and tomato salad into the dining room. She looks beautiful in her blue dress, the color of the ocean. Lisa cuts a tiny carnation bud and pins it on Mami's dress.

Karen and Silvia arrive with a fruit basket: a pineapple surrounded by pears, apples and mangos. Mami gives them each a thank you hug and places the basket on the table. Now our table really does look like a painting. A true feast.

We all sit down at the table: Mami at the head, Lisa and Doña Esperanza on one side and Karen and Silvia on the other. I bring a chair in from the kitchen and sit between my friends, leaving the other end of the table open for Grandma because I know she's here with us.

“Don't tell me you're waiting for your grandma to show . . . ” Silvia begins to say, but Karen elbows her, not very subtly.

“No,” I tell her. “I just wanted to leave a special place for her, because I know that she's watching us.”

“Seriously, Celeste?” says Silvia. “You're going to kill me, girl! Letters from beyond and ghosts coming to dinner . . . ”

“Actually, I was never scared of the letters,” I say. “Quite the contrary, they made me feel better. I still wonder how she did it; but I'm afraid I'll never find out.”

“I can tell you,” says Doña Esperanza. Everyone stares at her, stunned.

“Before she died, your grandma left me a pack of letters, each of them sealed and addressed to you. She told me to mail them after she passed, every five days, so that every week you'd have a new one. She thought that this way she could help you feel less sad.”

My mouth dropped open. I never would've guessed that it was Doña Esperanza who sent them. But now it all makes sense: the letters coming frequently, the trip to the grocery to buy all the ingredients, her hope that one of the letters would have the
Ropa Vieja
recipe . . . I'm actually thankful she didn't tell me right away.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I say in a whisper. “Your plan worked.”

The tray of
cangrejitos
goes around the table and in just a few minutes it's empty. Doña Esperanza tells us about the time she and Grandma went out for groceries and the car broke down on the way back.

“You know, back then there were no cell phones, so we couldn't call for help. We had to walk back, and we were so far!” she says. “And then Rosa has this crazy idea that we could hitch a ride. Imagine two old ladies on the side of the road, trying to hitchhike!”

Lisa, who had just taken a gulp of lemonade, laughs so hard that she showers the table. And we all laugh at Doña Esperanza's story, at Lisa's laughter and at the memories of Grandma. Mami and Lisa start another story about Grandma, and Silvia pretends that her
cangrejito
is trying to bite Karen, and they laugh uncontrollably. Without anybody noticing,
I close my eyes, trying to record this moment in my memory so I'll have it forever: the sound of laughter, the smell of rosemary, the texture of the tablecloth, the color of the flowers, the flavor of the guava and cheese melted together and, above all, the feeling of Grandma's presence. I want to remember all of it,
with love and flavor!

Lydia Gil