The Graschels of Guenther Street
M.C. Gordon
Pertinent information is posted at the beginning of this series. Comments are welcome at quasito_cat@hotmail.com or quasito_cat@yahoo.com
Chapter Fifteen
The dry, cold winter gradually gave way to the rainy days of early spring. The temperature had only dropped to freezing twice in San Antonio. Deet was pleased because he wasn't overly fond of extremely cold weather but Eric had thrived, his fair complexion glowing with health.
The winter weather hadn't been as kind to Katia, who suffered from an endless cold. Deet lost track of the number of days he had her at the pediatrician's office. But his greatest concern for her health was when she complained that her fingers felt `funny'. Deidre recognized the problem right away.
"I think Katia's suffering from frostbite," she told Deet as she sat holding the girl in her lap in front of the parlor fireplace one afternoon in early February.
"Frostbite?" Deet asked, one eyebrow raised in surprise, "in south Texas?"
"I could be wrong," Deidre admitted, "but the `funny' feeling she has in her hands sounds exactly like what happens when the capillaries close. Remember, Deet, I spent most of my life in much colder climates and I've seen it happen."
Dr. Leland Walker, the children's pediatrician, confirmed Deidre's diagnosis the next morning. "It sure is frostbite," he said after his examination. "Did you ever spend a winter where it was really cold?" he asked Katia.
"We stayed with my Auntie Yvonne in Detroit for a while," she replied. "Uncle Wilbur was real sick and my auntie needed help taking care of him. But the cancer got him and he died. I don't member much cause I was real little but it was before momma started on drugs. Momma told me that Uncle Wilbur's folks didn't like Auntie Yvonne and wouldn't help her pay the doctor bills after he died. So she couldn't pay the gas bill and they cut off the heat to the house. My cousin Lillie froze to death `cause she was just a tiny baby."
Dr. Walker listened patiently, his heart going out to the little girl who had seen too much of mankind's inhumanity in her short life. "I'm going to give you some medicine that's going to keep the blood flowing in those pretty fingers of yours," he said.
Katia almost glared at him. "I gots to take a lot of medicine," she said.
Dr. Walker understood exactly what she meant. "None of it is addictive, honey," he told her. "We're going to work on building up your system so you don't have as many colds and respiratory infections next winter. Then you won't have to take so many pills. But frostbite stays with you forever because it damages tiny vessels that sort of stop working when it gets cold. You trust me, don't you?"
"My daddy does so I guess I do," she replied, "long as you don't give me shots all the time."
Dr. Walker laughed and gave Katia a hug. "Sugar, I think you're probably my favorite patient," he said.
. . .
"Swear to God, Deidre," Deet said that evening as they drank hot cocoa while Eric and Katia did homework, "you could have knocked me over with a feather. Katia's never mentioned anything about family and all of a sudden she blurts out to Leland that she's got an aunt in Detroit."
"He's her doctor. She'll tell him all kinds of things she won't tell you."
"But Van didn't mention anything about family," Deet replied.
"He was under the same doctor-patient privilege," Deidre said. "He'll never breach her confidences with him."
Deet was almost sorry he had mentioned the children's former psychiatrist. They'd had little contact since the Fuentes' New Year's Eve party. Eric and Katia thought it was their fault because they'd hoped the two men would fall deeply in love and form a lasting relationship.
"Maybe we wanted it too hard," Katia told her brother more than once. "I done used up all my wishes."
"Don't let Mr. Musselman hear you say that," Eric replied. "You're grammar is better than that now."
"Sorry," Katia replied. "I get excited sometimes and my tongue wants to talk like I used to. But I wished so many times for good things to happen to me that I think God won't let me wish anything nice for anybody else."
"I know how you feel," Eric replied. "Sometimes I feel the same way."
. . .
The children didn't spend all their time with school work or worrying about their dad. They were settling into their new lives and their brother/sister relationship with ease. Eric was well liked at New Concepts Academy and Katia had become close friends with the little girl she had watched riding her bike on Guenther Street.
The girl had parked her bicycle in front of the Graschel house on one of the milder winter days and marched boldly to the front door. "Hi," she said when Deidre opened the door, "I'm Gabriella Acosta. I'd like to make friends with the little girl who lives here, the one who watches me ride my bike."
Her skin was dark; her black eyes blazed with mischief and curiosity. She knew who she was and had pride in herself, as only a child can be who has been taught to hold her head high. Her mother, Mimzanda, was French-African, descendant of a tribe from the old French East Africa colonies who had sought refuge in France during one of the ethnic purges.
Mimzanda was a gifted linguist and had worked as an interpreter at the NATO headquarters in Brussels, Belgium where she met a dashing young Army Lt. After a whirlwind courtship she married Lt. Robert Acosta, a linguist also assigned to NATO. Robert completed his tour of duty at NATO, which coincided with the end of his enlistment, and the young couple returned to Robert's home, San Antonio.
Robert accepted a position at the Universidad de Mexico in San Antonio as an instructor, spending his days teaching true Spanish as a written language and several spoken dialects from Mexico to students who hoped to become certified interpreters.
Mimzanda's university credentials weren't accepted for teaching so she turned her interests elsewhere. A growing percentage of the population was African-American, and refugees of more ethnic purges in Africa were entering the city daily. Mimzanda became fascinated with the concept of Kwanzaa, that unique celebration of African heritage. She was not only fluent in several languages; she was also a gifted artist. Her mother had taught her how to make delicate sculptures depicting her ancestors, jewelry, and clothing. She knew the spoken history and legends of her people. And she saw where she belonged in this mini-cosmos.
With Robert's complete support, Mimzanda leased a vacant building in La Villita, the oldest part of San Antonio that was not one of the Spanish missions. She sold her artistic work to tourists and held classes in English for African refugees. She held workshops for African-Americans, giving them her personal insight into their ancient heritage.
When Deidre opened the door to the Graschel home and encountered Gabriella, full of self-confidence, she knew instinctively that Katia would have a good friend and confidant. Gabriella was a little over a year older, having just turned fourteen, but she took an instant liking to Katia and the two formed an immediate friendship that would last the remainder of their lives.
Gabriella visited Katia each afternoon after school and they talked of the thousands of little things of interest to girls who are on the brink of becoming young ladies. Uncommonly gifted, and home-schooled for that reason, Gabriella spent much of her time without the companionship of girls her age outside her parents' social circle and was happy to finally find someone her own age. She wasn't at all curious about Katia's apparent lack of reading skills and occasional grammatical lapses for her parents had taught her that not everyone progressed at the same rate.
One week into their friendship, explaining how she had adopted Miracle, Katia told her new friend everything there was to tell about herself. Gabriella listened, amazed that Katia didn't shed a tear, and cried in Mimzanda's arms that night. The next morning, a Saturday, Mimzanda held her daughter's hand as they walked the short distance from their home to the imposing Graschel house.
A bleary-eyed Deet answered the knock on the door, dressed in pajamas and a robe, his first cup of morning coffee in his hand. He was unshaven and without slippers, for Benji had demolished the only pair he had left.
"Good morning, Gabriella," he managed in a civil manner for Deet, without two cups of coffee in the morning, wasn't his usual charming self. "Katia isn't awake yet."
"I'm Mimzanda Acosta, Gabriella's mother," the dignified woman holding the girl's hand said. "She told me last night what little Katia's been through. I wanted to meet the man who opened his heart to that poor child, and ask if you would approve if I introduce her to her African heritage."
"Please come in," Deet replied. "Would you like some coffee?" He was instantly impressed by the almost regal bearing of the woman who seemed to electrify everything around him by the pure grace of her presence.
As Deet and Mimzanda sat sipping coffee in the living room he couldn't help but admire the way she sat, her back perfectly straight -- her ankles crossed delicately. She was a woman who commanded respect without realizing it. He had often wondered how he could introduce Katia to her African heritage, since he was at a total loss where it was concerned. And Katia had started asking questions since she formed her friendship with Gabriella.
He liked the little girl who came by every day and often laughed at the direction their conversations took.
"I don't see why you like Justin Timberlake," from Gabriella. "He always looks like he just woke up."
"I think Will Smith is kinda cute," Katia replied.
"He's old now, and married," Gabriella responded.
"Have you seen that cute guy on the new `Stargate' show?"
"A couple of them are cute, but I think Rainbow Sun Franks is the cutest," Katia said."
"To die for," Gabriella sighed.
"I think I'd like very much for you to introduce Katia to her ancient heritage," Deet told Mimzanda, "but she needs to know about her ancestry here also."
"I'm learning more every day about the history of Africans in this country, Mr. Graschel. You'd be amazed by some of the things I hear that go beyond the issue of slavery. What I'd like to do first is meet Katia and then slowly introduce her to her own ancestry. I've amassed an amazing database of Africa. If she has any relatives, and if they know anything at all about their ancestors, I might be able to trace her lineage. Did you ever read Alex Haley's `Roots'? It can be done. I've no desire to in any way affect the love she has for you and you for her. In fact, I hope that you will allow me to educate you also, and maybe help to strengthen the bond you have."
"Works for me," Deet said, and added, "Please don't call me Mr. Graschel. It looks like we're going to be friends, and all my friends call me Deet."
Author's note: all of the chapters prior to this one were written months ago. Future work in this series will be posted as they're finished. I wasn't sure how well this particular topic would be accepted by Nifty readers and have been pleasantly surprised by the numerous emails I've received expressing interest in Deet, his friends, and his family.