Baka's Wish
(page 6)
She imagined that the stranger might visit again, only next time he’d come back in a carriage or an enormous motorcar. He'd bring a Gypsy band that would play music while she and Mama and Baka ate sausage and bread. Then he’d invite them to pile into his gigantic automobile and they'd all go to the city with the Gypsy band stuffed into the back of the enormous auto.
They'd be strumming their guitars and stomping their feet as if they were putting out a fire. The violinist would taunt his violin, making it cry, then shriek. Music would swirl in the air like moths near a flame while the singers wailed in harmony.
“What on earth are you doing?” came an interrupting voice. It was Baka's. She’d just awakened from a deep snoring sleep on the feather bed. “Did you finish your spinning?” she croaked, her eyes squinting as she peered through the door.
It was an odd thought, the thought of her spinning being finished. Spinning was never finished. Nothing was ever finished really. As long as you lived there was always washing, planting, cleaning, cooking, and it was never finished.
“No Baka,” answered Mara, hanging her head guiltily. She cautiously tucked the stone into the pocket of her apron so Baka wouldn’t see it.
“You know, if you expect to eat, you have to work,” Baka admonished. "You can't sit around like a lump while there’s spinning to be done. You can’t expect everyone else to do your work for you.”
It wasn't fair, being scolded by Baka like that. Mara was a hard worker, and she'd been snatched from her fantasy much too soon, long before she was ready. She was having such a wonderful time imagining scenes in her head, but it really was time to get back to work. She didn’t want to get into a fight with Baka either. If she did, Mama would be upset and Mara might be sent to bed without her supper. Then the rest of the evening would be miserable, and so on, and so on. So she sat down to spin. She gave the big wheel a push with one hand to get it started while her foot pumped the pedal.
Baka, in the mean time, prepared to place herself into the big chair near Mara. It was the chair near the light where she could read her Bible with a magnifying glass and do her evening prayers. She’d backed herself up to it so the backs of her legs leaned against it. Then as carefully as she could, she lowered herself slowly until her knees wouldn’t hold her up any more. Then, for lack of a better way to describe it, she simply flopped the remaining few inches into the cushions. It always looked scary to watch the old woman falling, Mara thought. But Baka seemed to have the necessary amount of faith to make the backward journey and allow herself to be caught by the stuffed cushions. “Into the hands of God,” she’d say when she landed, making the sign of the cross.
Mara winced as Baka bounced in the chair. It was funny in a way, but she tried not to laugh. She worried that Baka's old bones might just crack in half some day while she was trying to sit herself down.
“I had the strangest dream,” said Baka, panting a bit from the effort.
Mara spun the wheel, quietly humming.
“Sometimes dreams are so crazy,” Baka said. She adjusted her shawl because it had fallen down over her forehead when she hit the chair. “I had a dream that an angel came and showed me a handful of colored stones.”
Mara’s held her breath for a moment, trying to hear a little better.
“He told me to take one. He said that the stone would grant me eternal happiness. Then he told me that I needed to hold on to my stone because God would ask to see it when he called me. Then I’d show it to him and it would be proof that I was the one the angel had visited. Then God would throw open the gate and welcome me into heaven and I’d have eternal happiness at His side.”
Mara stopped spinning. She felt dizzy. She looked at the wheel and saw that she’d tangled her yarn into a knot. “Jesus, Mary!” she moaned. “Jesus, Mary! A knot!” She needed to keep spinning and finish her work, especially if Baka was sitting right there in the room with her. Everyone knew how Baka was about the spinning.
“Crazy, eh?” Baka said. “It was such a nice dream. I almost wish I could have stayed asleep to dream it some more. But you know how that is. You try to go back to the dream and… oh well.”
Mara felt so sorry for Baka clutching her Bible, even while she was struggling to untangle her own knotted ball of yarn. The poor old woman was trapped in a strange superstitious world, much like Mara's tangled mess, actually. There she sat, praying so intensely. It was as though she couldn’t take one single step without the fear of not being righteous enough.
Mara wished that Baka could just let herself be happy. But Baka would certainly would never wish for her own happiness since she was convinced that she didn’t deserve it. Life was a job to her. It was a duty.
Maybe Mara could just use her imagination to spin up some happiness for Baka. Why not? It would be easy, just like whipping up some eggs for breakfast. She had to do her work anyway. It would be more fun than fretting about a tangled ball of yarn, that’s for sure. Imagination was certainly not something she lacked.
She gave up on the knot. She could fix that later. She put a new spindle on the spinning wheel so she could start from scratch. She gave the wheel a little push to get it moving. Her feet made lilting ballerina motions on the pedal at first, then became more forceful. It was hypnotic, getting lost in the rhythm of the pedal. It made the work so much more pleasant.
She worked the pedal until her eyelids drooped a little and her body started to sway. She began to breathe in rhythm as she rocked back and forth and from side to side as if she was standing on the deck of a swaying ship rolling in a churning sea. She did this for what seemed to be forever.
When Mara finally opened her eyes, it was only because she’d run out of wool. The wheel stopped. She looked over at Baka. It was dark outside and the only light was from the kerosene lantern. Baka had fallen asleep in the chair. The Bible that she was clutching a short time ago had fallen onto her lap.
“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” Mara whispered to Baka. “I wish it for all of us. I wish it for Tata in heaven, and I wish it for me.” She waved her hand in the air the way the stranger did as she thought her words, casting her imaginary spell.
Mara studied Baka from her stool, the shawl caressing her old, wrinkled face. She didn't look afraid as she slept. She looked oddly happy. The expression was so unfamiliar to Mara that she had to get up from her stool to get a better look. She brought the lantern closer to Baka’s face. Yes indeed. It was a look of what seemed like peace. If Mara was a superstitious person, she might believe that her wish for Baka’s happiness a moment ago had actually come true. She had a feeling of satisfaction. Dreams didn’t come true very often, so this was something quite exciting.
She looked lovingly at her grandmother. She reached into her apron pocket and felt the colored stone with her fingertips. She pulled it out, then held it up so the light of the lantern would make it glow. It gave such beautiful colors as the light shined through it. She took Baka’s withered hand. It felt cool to the touch. “Take this Baka,” Mara said as she kissed her Baka on the forehead. She pressed the colored stone into Baka’s hand, then laid the hand down on the Bible. “You’re going to need this where you’re going.”
Baka finally had her wish.
the end