Coconut Ice Cream
By Deldelp Bernal MedinaAs she idly sat, thoughts wandering back and forth in their head, it was hard to tell if she was conscious of the world around her. Her glassy, brown eyes showed none of the grandiose dreams her head was conjuring up. The large nostrils barely registered breath. If you called her name, even screamed and shouted "Asuncíon!", she always reacted five seconds too late for your patience.
"I heard you the first time, why do you keep on shouting?"
"Why didn't you answer the first time?," her mother, father, sister or lover would ask, flushed and frustrated.
"What did you want?" she would ask as calm as the pose she had held for an hour or two, sometimes three. The same pose she had since she was a child and the spells began. Right leg under the outstretched left one, arms extended with hands cupped, staring forward into the unknown. By the time her mother, father, sister or lover would be asked the reason for all their yelling, it would seem unimportant. Or sometimes the task which they had planned on asking her to do seemed easier to do themselves. This is how she never learned to pick up her own clothing from the floor, where she deposited everything (for the first 30 years of her life she sincerely didn't know how to use a hanger). She also never learned how to use any kind of cleaning appliance, dishwasher, washing machine, vacuum cleaner or mop.
Autism and depression were the doctors' favorite diagnoses in childhood. Later in adolescence they changed to bi-polar disorder, schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder. No medication or therapy could keep her out of her head. In her head, the world was hers to control. Nothing unpleasant happened unless she wanted it to. Fantasies full of luxuries, joys, and, in adolescence and beyond, sex; fiction was better than real life and grander then TV or any movie. The only exception was the old Delores Del Rio movies where she sang pretty songs and always had the men, especially the bandido, fall for her. What the doctors, her family, and later her lovers failed to realize was that she had always known the difference between her inner fantasies and the outer realities. Her inner world was much more pleasant, and she had long ago chosen to remain there as much as possible. She denied her physical being to an extent. She always bathed and dressed appropriately, almost stylishly, went to school where she earned decent grades. Later in life, worked where she was successful enough to warrant pay raises and two promotions. She went through the motions of normalcy, but at one glance you could tell something was wrong.
People in the street would stare and comment about that pretty but "off" girl. Pretty she was, sometimes even striking, but she had long ago decided that her brown beauty was not enough. In her mind her dark, blue/black kinky hair was lighter and wavy, like her Castillian grandmother had in the old sepia-toned pictures she stared at for hours. Her nose wasn't flat and African-inherited from some anonymous slave ancestor many generations ago. It was a thin, delicate nose in the style of Greta Garbo, Nordic and svelte. Her wrong-shaped eyes with the wrong color were replaced by wider, more open ones in a light shade of green or gray, since blue was so overrated. The eyes were a variation upon her cousin's, Maria Muriel, who was lucky enough to have a full German grandfather. He had immigrated just before World War II, a blond, blue-eyed, refined man who showed no physical trace of his father's Jewishness. He was a well-educated man, originally a professor of Italian Literature, who became a man of commerce out of necessity. That tall, blond man of impeccable suits and precise manners was so unlike her grandfather on papi's side, a mestizo campesino as brown as the earth he cultivated.
In real life she couldn't be the white, tall, hipless, titless woman she imagined herself to be, but in her head she was nothing but the kind of woman who occupied the pages of French and American magazines. All compliments of papi's French business partner and an aunt living in the Estado Unidos. Sometimes, when a fantasy called for some exoticism, she was an Oriental girl versed in the ancient mystical arts. This became a reoccurring fantasy at the age of sixteen, when her frustrated parents took her to New York to see a specialist. In adolescence her condition grew worse and she had seen every specialist in her tiny Caribbean country. Befuddled, her parents, blessed with a good sugar cane crop and rising prices, decided after long arguments and many visits to both the local priest and curandera, to buy three round-trip tickets to New York.
During the long airplane flight she stared out of the window, confirming what she had imagined all along. Clouds were puffy pieces of coconut ice cream. Definitely not the disapearing floating sponges her third grade teacher insistently told her they were. For the next six hours she stared skyward and her mother,Amalia, prayed non-stop. Black-crystal rosary beads - an heirloom taken out only during special circumstances - were the tool of choice; the family bible was deemed to be too bulky to travel with. Her mother's middle finger and thumb, scarred with sliver grooves, glossed over every single bead: the chipped one at the top, the perfect one, the irregularly-shaped one, the new one that had replaced the one that had been shattered by praying too hard. Each bead had special characteristics, and each one was entrusted with the hope of a miracle to cure the affliction that their oldest child suffered from. As the rosary went round and round - eleven-and-a-half times over the next six hours - her father Alonzo, to her mother's annoyance, slept placidly. Weather-shadows formed wrinkles around his large but slanted eyes - relaxed completely - revealing the deep grooves caused by squinting in the sun worrying, and from his famous late-night aguardienticos.
The plane braced itself for its descent from the clouds, and Asuncíon cursed. "She would have contently sat for another six hours watching clouds," her mother explained to her aunt on the way to the apartment. Tia Maria Magdalena, now known simply as Maggie, lived in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. She resided amongst kosher delis, Arab fabric shops and Puerto Rican bodegas. The aunt, who was always fiercely independent, dreaded the visit, for, although she was courteous, deep down inside she had never forgotten how her older sister had treated her fifteen years ago. The fights, arguments and sermons still rang in her head. They had all ensued due to her desire to study nursing and her decision later to continue her studies in the United States (thanks to a small inheritance from grandma).
The fact that Tia Maggie still wasn't married was a point of contention back home. Some whispered that perhaps she wasn't a nurse. What nurse could afford her fancy clothes and trips to strange places? Egypt, India and Nigeria - places where decent people with money certainly didn't travel to. Others whispered that maybe her nature wasn't right: such aggressive behavior, always getting promotions, raising through the ranks, and not one doctor had she married! Maggie tried to forget those things and concentrate on the reason for this unusual trip: her niece. They had a semblance of each other yet if you compared them feature by feature they were completely different. Maggie was a version of what Asuncíon wanted to look, feel and be like. Maggie thought she understood her niece's condition and desired to break her free from the walls she knew were confining her. "After all if I had a mother like my sister I too would go crazy." was Maggie's secret thought. This unspoken bond is what made them seem so twin-like.
Maggie had made all the arrangements with the various specialists: one neurologist, one psychanalyst and two psychiatrists, all known for their excellent reputations, and close friendships with her. The battery of tests were to start the next day and to last a full week. As not to waste time as little free time was warranted . If it would have been up to Alonzo they would have gone straight to the doctors as soon as the plane landed, unfortunately they landed in the evening and exhausted. At ten o'clock east light saving time, they had to negotiate their sleeping arrangements in Maggie's one bedroom apartment. It was a neat matchbox with eclectic furnishings. Her whole apartment was a hodgepodge of Indian statues, sombreros, Japanese and European prints, and African masks with noses like Asuncíon's. That fact disturbed her and she avoided them. It was the statue of a many-armed woman and hieroglyphic tablets that fascinated her. As she reached for the statue, her mother - navigating around the made up, green sofa-bed, yelled "no lo toques!". Startled, she toppled the English, wooden table with thin, spidery legs. It was then that she noticed that there was a mirror on top of the table. Reflected was her face in shock, mouth opened, eyebrows raised, an image that startled her even more than the loud thud that the table made. Thanks to the cream-colored carpet nothing was broken, but this incident was too much for her mother, who had to be given valerian tea to calm down.
No one slept well that night; Asuncíon on Tia Maggie's bed, fantasized about the big city being devoured, a la Godzilla, by the giant eight-armed version of her imaginary self. Maggie, in a pull-out bed next to Asuncíon, was tortured by the thought of the report her dear sister would give to all the relatives, making her next trip home even more torturous. The couple in the living room sofa also slept very little. He, uncomfortable with the lack of warmth his thin, cotton pajamas gave, tried to snuggle with his wife of seventeen years. She, annoyed with his pitiful pushing and shoving, tried to pray. Just when she started to fall asleep and her chants died down, he would shove her back into consciousness.
"Alonzo, I am going to fall off the bed!"
"Ay, mami, it's so cold!" This conversation repeated itself several times all night long, much to each other's annoyance.
The next day after eating, bathing and finally finding the hidden stash of dollars, they took the subway and arrived barely in time for their first appointment. While the subway was exciting enough to make both father and daughter giddy, it was nothing compared to what they would encounter later. In the big city one thing always topped another. This led to an unending awe and amazement in the simple traveler. There is always a bigger building and a fancier contraption; it was unending, keeping the visitor in a constant state of shock.
This did not help the Rosado's, since it made it harder to concentrate on the reason for their trip. So while Asuncíon went through another Roscach test, she did not concentrate on the black blobs that the white-haired doctor held out, rather his dictaphone and the other assorted electronic paraphernalia. Lorenzo and Amalia kept on forgetting their full genealogical history, confusing the blue-eyed, bilingual, American nurse. They were not only fascinated by the perfect Spanish she spoke but frequently distracted by the skyline they could see behind her. All of this added to Aunt Maggie's stress, causing her neck to cramp and her head to pound.
By 3:30 the white-haired doctor and the blue-eyed nurse thought it would be best to stop for the day and continue tomorrow. It was the doctor's suggestion to personally take them sight-seeing. He successfully argued that they all needed to relax and that perhaps by observing them interact, he could gain some insight into Asuncíon's malady. So they went to Chinatown, much to Amelia's disgust. It had been her sister's idea. She would have preferred to go to Rockafeller Center rather than to a renown health hazard. It was just as she imagined, full of overcrowded buildings and funny smells. Surely, she thought, such a distinguished doctor wouldn't want to eat rat! To Asuncíon it was an even more foreign country. It wasn't like anything she had seen before, not even in the TV. The real lanterns with funny drawings - funny drawings everywhere - and beautiful faces with slanted eyes, and most of all, the wonderful smells. During their whole week there it was Chinatown that held her interest. It also loosened her tongue; during the next 3 hours of sight-seeing. Mushu pork, imperial rolls and live crabs, she talked more than she had in the past month. Her father, amazed at her lucidity and logic, was so aghast that he bought her the live crab when she asked for it. Never mind they couldn't afford such an extravagant souvenir that didn't last another hour, she talked! She was full of questions, observations and comments. She was so enthralled that she barely noticed that her family and the doctor had an permanent expression of disbelief since she had begun to open her mouth.
It wasn't just the ethereal, light quality of these other beings but also their ability to make magic that enraptured Asuncíon. By taking two sticks they could lift any food into their mouth. Aunt Maggie, without spilling, expertly ate with them, leading her sister to ask when she learned such a trick.
"What do you mean by that?" Maggie answered in whispered Spanish.
"What are you talking about?" Amalia said with a puzzled look on her face.
Maggie said nothing to her sister and instead turned to the doctor to praise his choice in restaurants. But inside she knew what that comment meant, and why it was said in such a manner. If it really was an innocent question then why did it drip of sarcasm? She was long used to those types of comments, filled with innuendo, causing her to be alert at all times, just in case her honor was offended without her noticing.
To her mother's disgust at the restaurant, her father's doting, her aunt's sour look and the doctor's constant note-taking, Asuncíon was oblivious to it all. It was the waitress, who she could catch snippets of through the dark brown, carved-wood partitions, that had her transfixed, long enough that everybody at the table thought that she was having one of her spells. It was the fact that she ate while transfixed that dissuaded her parents from thinking that it was a real one. The doctor thought that perhaps it was a different kind of spell. If he had been seated next to her and not across from her, he might have noticed what held her attention. So he wrote: "subject suddenly became quiet as eyes glazed over, starring into nothingness." If it had occurred to him to look over his shoulder he too would have become mesmerized by the figure in red that gingerly went from table to table, gracefully pouring tea, arranging tables and giving customers their bills. What added to the suspense for Asuncíon wasn't the waitress' ability to move but the way her fire-red dress seemed to emanate its own light. She couldn't understand where the intensity of color was coming from, since the restaurant was dimly lit with lanterns - which increased her mother's suspicion of the cleanliness of any Chinese restaurant, for, after all, in the dark you can't see the dirt or discern the type of meat they serve. The only explanation that seemed possible was that these moon-faced woman actually shone with the moon's low, yellow light.
If her Aunt Maggie would have looked behind the doctor's face she too would have been entranced, but she was too busy. Busy thinking of sly, nasty comments she could get away with the next time her sister even implied something. She was so busy sharpening her wit that she accidently spilled some fried rice on her powder-blue, wool suit-skirt. She cursed loud enough to cause the waitress to come over thinking she had been summoned. As soon as the moon faced lady appeared Asuncíon started to ask her questions, all of which the waitress couldn't understand since Aunt Maggie, who had dutifully been translating, had gone to the bathroom to try not to have the stain set. So since her father's English was non-existent and the doctor's spanish at the third grade level, she never got a full answer to her questions. To be able to see the waitress' face - vibrant, taut skin with a pouty mouth and slanted, almond eyes - was enough of an answer.
The only real answer she got was to her question of how did the waitress keep all of her heavy, black hair in such a neat little bun with just two sticks. The waitress promptly showed her by undoing the tight bun by removing one stick. Her hair floated down below her shoulders, revealing exactly how much there was. And for the few seconds that her hair remained free, the table had collectively held its breath. It was so beautiful that even Amalia had to comment. With nimble fingers and lightning speed the hair was moved back to its original style, bunned tightly on top with red-hot sticks holding it in place.
The trip to New York changed her life but not in the way in which her parents had hoped. Instead of curing the mysterious ailment, the ailment changed. What first was thought to be a miraculous recovery was really just a shift in consciousness. As her parents slowly realized this, her father cursed the hundred votive candles that were bought in New York. Votive candles - a pittance in his country - that cost a fortune in that expensive city. Especially when your wife insists on a hundred. He secretly thought that St. Anthony scorned them because of his wife's insistence on such an extravagance. She thought the patron saint of loss causes ignored their pleas due to her husband's stinginess.
Asuncíon couldn't care less, for the New York trip had provided her with enough fantasy material to last a lifetime. And a lifetime it did last her, until her Alzheimer hit at the age of 60. She still dreamt of her day in New York, especially the chinese girl, whose straight, black hair and exotic features she couldn't forget or emulate. She tried to iron her hair but it never had the weight or the swing. No matter how long she taped her eyes they never stayed in that almond shape. Much to her mother's horror she fashioned a contraption made of two wooden planks constructed with the purpose of flattening her nose correctly. All it caused was respiratory problems, and her sister's almost being scared to death scare one night. To this day she still insists that it looked as if a giant cockroach was sucking on Asucíon's face. Her piercing scream was enough to awake the whole household, maids included. Considering that the maids' quarters were all the way behind and practically underneath the house, the scream wasn't forgotten easily. Months later, everyone - neighbors included - talked about where and when the scream reached them.
Her parents were on the verge of institutionalizingher. All the face contraptions, strange mannerisms, and weird eating habits were simply too much. While she became more outward after her trip, it was tothe point of eccentricity. She now talked, but usually to herself. She smiled, but only at imaginary figures. Not to mention her rather sexual exploits with imaginary men. Once, her little brother caught her masturbating with one of her many make-believe beaus.
It was hearing her thoughts and fantasies out loud that alarmed everyone in the household, far more so than her prolonged silences. Her mother suddenly found herself praying for Asucíon to become silent again. They worried that her imaginary lovers might become real ones; she wore less and less, strutted, primped, and simply exuded sex.Her parents locked her in her room, except for meals and Sunday mass. But her audacity began to cause problems at dinner, where she proceeded to tell her younger siblings about her trysts in detail, calmly, while eating her rice with chopsticks. At church she caused a mini-scandal when she went without a slip or underwear. When her little cousin teasingly lifted her skirt everyone soon saw her thighs, spotted with blood. Her expression wasn't one of shock or embarrassment; all she did was laugh. The sight in the church plaza of a laughing, naked from the waist down, bleeding woman was enough to have the town heads have a long talk with her father that same Sunday night. They came unannounced but not disrespectfully, with simple demands: either she would be locked up or they would have to officially declare her insane. That declaration not only would mean social scorn but also her institutionalization in the state-run psychiatric hospital.
Asuncíon understood the importance of their presence in the house and quickly changed her behavior. If her behavior was going to cause her imprisonment, then she would stop. The next day she came down to breakfast with a face full of earnest regret and a long-sleeved, full-length dress that her uncle had sent from the zona franca. It was made of a thick polyester material that was way too warm for the climate. She wore it for the next couple of weeks, refusing to change. The sweat would roll down her body, unable to be absorbed by the thick knit, transferring it's bright green color onto her skin. When her mother finally noticed her daughter's green-tinted skin it was too late. The dye refused to wash off for six months. No matter how hard her skin was scrubbed, no matter how many baths or cleaning products were used, the dye remained a part of her for half a year. She recalls her green period with joy for it aided in her moon-men fantasies. Her sexual nature didn't disappear, however, it just wasn't a part of her public act. Late at night in her room she romped around to her heart's desire: tall men with broad shoulders would carry her away, skinny ones with strong legs would run away with her, and curly-haired ones with glasses built contraptions to fly her off with.
After her parents' deaths eight months apart when she was 33, Asuncíon was forced to face reality. Much to her family's surprise she didn't become la loca del pueblo, running around abandoned, dirty, and forever tormented by nasty boys, their older brothers, and anyone else with wanton disregard on their minds. Her brother who took over the hacienda waited for her to leave in a crazed stupor, hoping that she would be one less problem. He even talked to the priest, trying to get rid of her through the church. A good convent was found where she could live and do needle point at the scheduled hours. She not only refused but asked for her part of the inheritance, using it to move to the city with her sister. Her sister didn't look forward to taking care of la loca either, but Asuncíon once again surprised everyone by finding a job, keeping a schedule and finishing her education.
She eventually found herself a real lover, followed by another and another. Real men began to float in and out of her life just as her imaginary ones had done before. She was not marrying material, and never even tried to pretend that she was. It always ended in exasperation for the men, and with sweet memories for her.
When menopause settled in she became a care-free child again, trying to climb guava trees and succeeding in breaking her hip. By the time alzheimer was detected it was in its last stages. Her sister assumed that Asuncíon couldn't keep up with the charade of being sane for the rest of her life. The forgetting, talking to herself and reminiscing about real and imagined events all seemed like symptoms of her earlier condition, so they were dutifully ignored until she was found one night re-celebrating her 10th birthday party. She couldn't snap out of it for two days. When the doctor arrived the 59 year old Asuncíon took off her clothing on cue, mistaking the doctor with a former lover that liked his profession so much that he brought it into the bedroom. While 30 year-old doctor was bemused, he knew that it was not just a sign of craziness but of a brain slowly deteriorating. Her gray cells slowly stopped sparking, the connection between synapses virtually impossible to maintain. Asuncíon's brain left before her body; she kept on eating, her heart kept on pumping, but her head was empty. Her sister found herself missing Asuncíon's endless, crazy chatter.
She didn't even have her fantasies. Especially those that would have made her forgetting of whether the bathroom was the third door on the left or on the right bearable. So at the age of sixty she found herself experiencing a true depression. It was so dark and heavy with the lack of thoughts that she longed for days she could not remember. Days when there was nothing else but fantasy. Light, air, clouds and the sensation of flying are all the dreams she could muster her hollow brain to remember. Where they came from she did not know, but this memory was enough.