Not again, he thought, listening to his mom on the phone.
Joaquín Padilla pushed away his soggy cereal and slouched into the back of the kitchen chair. He knew his mom was talking to Uncle Víctor; seemed like she called him three times a day to complain about Nanita. Probably because everyone here was so tired of listening to her, especially Joaquín.
“So you took away her keys? Good! She has no business driving anymore, Víctor. What if she had a wreck? We’d be the ones who’d get sued!”
“Drama, drama, drama,” Joaquín muttered as he stood up from the table. He grabbed his work cap and waved it at his mom when he passed her. She barely looked at him as she said into the phone, “Víctor, I stopped at Mom’s house yesterday. Oh my god! She wore the same stained blouse she had on two days ago!”
Big deal, she’s fine, Joaquín wanted to say for the hundredth time. But as his car keys jingled in his hand, he noticed the silver key ring with a green lightning bolt in its center. It had been a birthday gift from Nanita. Okay, so he hadn’t seen his grandmother in a couple of months, but he’d been busy. A few quick calls, but mostly he talked, complaining about school, his parents or his lousy job flipping burgers. She listened—like she had done all his life.
Nanita was the first one he told when he didn’t win science fair or couldn’t find a date for the eighth grade dance. She was the only person he took for a ride when he earned his permanent driver’s license. After all it was Nanita who always let Joaquín drive her car for extra practice on Sunday mornings when they’d go out to breakfast together.
Those Sunday breakfasts hadn’t happened for a year. He asked for Sunday shifts so he didn’t have to be home when his parents had nothing better to do than pick on him. Lately Mom complained a lot about Nanita, and it made Joaquín mad.
“I tell you, she’s losing her mind,” Mom constantly said to all of them.
Joaquín often wanted to say, “She’s just an old lady, leave her alone.” But he kept silent because it was easier to ignore Mom than tell her she was wrong.
Good thing he never mentioned the day Nanita forgot the bacon cooking on the stove. The smoke set off the fire alarm. Joaquín had to climb on a chair and take out the batteries. He had opened the windows, and put the batteries back ten minutes later. It was no big deal, but Mom would have probably taken away Nanita’s frying pan!
Joaquin’s shift ended early since one of the girls wanted to trade off for next Saturday night, so he decided to drive to Nanita’s house and check things out for himself.
He drove the familiar neighborhood, and found himself missing the funny old neighbors he had met through Nanita. One by one her friends had died through the years, and new neighbors kept to themselves. As he parked his car he thought, Man, she has no friends left.
Joaquín glanced at the house, and quickly took a second look. The front screen door was open wide. And then he saw Nanita standing beside her car. She stood by the open driver’s door. Her gray hair was wildly uncombed, and she wore a faded robe he thought she’d used for rags years ago.
What’s she doing? She looks worse than a bag lady!
As his grandmother got into her car and pulled the door closed, Joaquín jumped out of his car.
“Nanita,” Joaquín yelled out. He ran, but tripped in the overgrown weeds in her yard. Why hasn’t someone cut the grass?
His heart revved up as the engine started. Inside his head a voice screamed, I thought Uncle Víctor took away her keys!
“Nanita,” he yelled louder. “Nanita, wait!”
He reached the passenger door and saw the thick red bar locked across the steering wheel of Nanita’s car. He pulled on the door handle. He slapped at the window.
She suddenly shifted the gear, and car jerked backwards. It slid down the incline of the driveway. “Nanita, stop!” he yelled again.
With the iron bar on the wheel, she couldn’t steer it. Through the windshield, he saw the look of a scared child.
Joaquín grabbed the car mirror, a stupid idea with sweaty hands. The car gained speed as it rolled down the driveway incline. “Nanita, step on the brakes!”
Gasping for breath, he jogged beside the car yelling. “Nanita, step on the brakes!”
Nanita screamed, “Joaquín! Joaquín, let go,” like he was a little kid who might get hurt. But she was the one who’d get hurt—didn’t she see the safety bar? Didn’t she realize she wouldn’t be able to shift? That she couldn’t steer? How could Nanita be so stupid?
“Joaquín, let go!” She screamed again so loudly, his fingers slipped off the mirror and he fell hard on his knees. He looked up. Nanita’s hands covered her face as the momentum down the steep driveway grew faster with each roll of the tire. Joaquín jumped up and tried to run around to the driver’s side.
But the car was already out of the driveway and rolling across the street. Joaquín jerked his head from side to side. Were any cars coming around the corner? What if somebody came from the other direction to crash into Nanita’s car? What do I do? Oh my god, Nanita!
Only a weird turn of luck helped them both. No cars passed through, and once the car was level in the street, it started slowing down even as it kept moving backwards.
The car rolled to a stop in the neighbor’s front yard, just inches away from the cement porch surrounding the house. Joaquín sighed and ran across the street.
Nanita opened the car door, and stumbled out. She covered her mouth with her trembling fingers, shaking her head.
“Nanita, are you okay?”
She gasped, stumbling back. She glared at Joaquín like she didn’t know him. “What do you want?”
Joaquín slowed up as he walked to the driver’s side of the car. “Nanita, are you okay?” he asked again. Her eyes narrowed, and he realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses either. “Nanita—”
“What do you want?” She slammed the car door shut with more force than he thought a little old lady would have. “Who locked up my car? I need to go to the store.”
“Nanita, I can take you to the store.” He watched her face, wondering for the first time if she knew who he was. “Nanita, it’s Joaquín. Can I help you? Let’s go home.”
She stepped closer, her face starting to redden; she shook her finger at him. “I need to go to the store. Find the keys to unlock that damn bar. Right now, hear me?”
“Nanita, I—”
“Nobody said you could take my car without asking.” Nanita waved her hands. Her voice screeched with anger. “Now you got it in the neighbor’s yard. What’s Mrs. De León going to think?”
Joaquín took a step back. Mrs. De León had died years ago. And he really hoped the new guy wasn’t home to see the car in his front yard.
Would his parents blame him? But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t call his mom, she’d just freak out and besides, she lived across town.
“Nanita,” he said, slowly. “Nanita, let’s go home. I’ll call Uncle Víctor, okay?”
“Where are my keys? I’m going to the store, hear me?”
Her tone scared him, but he tried to keep calm. “I can get your keys. And I’ll take you to the store, okay?”
She stomped around to the rear fender of the car. She crossed her arms across her shoulders, and just rocked back and forth on her bare feet. She didn’t look at Joaquín; she just stared at the car and the porch.
Joaquín sighed. He knew Uncle Víctor worked close by, and calling him now made sense. He pulled out his cell phone. “Uncle Víctor, it’s Joaquín.”
“Hey, Joaquín, what’s up?”
He’d start with good news. “Well, umm—Nanita is safe, but her car is in the yard across the street.”
“What!”
“When I got here, she was trying to drive it to the store. But the bar on the steering wheel confused her, so it just rolled down the driveway.” He took a breath before he delivered the bad news. “Umm—well—her car’s across the street now.”
“Oh God, did she hit anything? Or anyone?”
“No, she was real lucky.” Joaquín’s hand trembled as he clutched his phone.
“I’m glad you called me.” Uncle Víctor paused and let loose a deep breath before he said, “Stay with her. I’m on my way.”
What now? He always expected his grandmother to help him out of trouble. But he didn’t recognize this crazy-looking old lady rocking on her heels and mumbling at her car. He walked slowly to her. “Nanita, let’s go home. Uncle Víctor’s on his way.”
She turned her face to see him. “You called Víctor? How could you do that to me?”
“Nanita, he probably has the keys to the security bar. He’ll get the car back into the driveway,” Joaquín answered. He reached out to take her arm.
She slapped his hand away. “You shouldn’t have called him, Joaquín. He’ll just yell at you!” Suddenly tears pooled in her eyes. “How could you call him? After all I’ve done for you, now you’re going to tell on me!”
Nanita tossed her hands into the air, and started to march back across the street. She kept moving up the sidewalk. She climbed up the porch steps and straight through the front door. And she left it wide open behind her.
Joaquín blew air out his mouth, leaning against the front fender. Okay, he should call his mom, but he’d let Uncle Víctor do it later. His mom didn’t yell at Uncle Víctor, or if she did, Uncle Víctor let her vent then he calmly said what decision he had made.
He always liked his uncle’s kindness, so different from his mom’s crazy moods. But now Joaquín had to give his mom a break. Her worries about Nanita were real. Too real.
Joaquín stared at the ground. Where is the Nanita I know and love?
He stood there, shuffling through happier memories at Nanita’s house, when Uncle Víctor pulled up in his white work van and parked behind Joaquín’s car.
He rolled down the window and called out, “Are the keys still in the ignition?”
Joaquín looked at the driving column and then nodded. “Yeah.”
As his uncle got out of the van, Joaquín walked toward him. “Here! Catch!” His uncle tossed a small key chain. “They unlock the bar. Bring her car back into the driveway, then lock it all back up, okay?”
He nodded, but then Uncle Víctor yelled something else, “And keep all the keys! Don’t give them back to Nanita.”
When Joaquín sat behind the steering wheel of his grandmother’s car, sadness filled him in waves. He unlocked the safety bar, started Nanita’s car and slowly drove it back across the street and into Nanita’s driveway. By the time he secured the bar, and had locked up the car, he saw Uncle Víctor walking back onto the porch. He slowly closed the screen door and met up with Joaquín on the porch steps.
“Here are all the keys, Uncle Víctor. Is Nanita okay?”
He shrugged. “She’s fine, I guess. She won’t talk to me right now. She’s sitting in the den staring at a TV show.”
“I didn’t know what to do.” His fingers still trembled. “That’s why I called you.”
“You did the right thing, Joaquín. If you had called your mom, she would have started crying, and man, you don’t need two women going crazy at the same time,” Uncle Víctor replied. “Your mom and Nanita still surprise me with their dramatics.”
Joaquín found himself nodding, but the comparison between his mom and Nanita left him feeling miserable. He handed the keys to his uncle.
Uncle Víctor sighed. “She insisted the car had to stay in the driveway. So ‘people will know I’m home’ she told me. Dumb me for not looking for another set of keys, and thinking the iron bar would stop her. Your grandmother is still a strong-willed lady.”
“She screamed at me, Uncle Víctor,” Joaquín said. “I’ve never seen her like that.”
His uncle nodded. “She screamed when I took her keys away.” For a moment he stared at Joaquín, and then surprised him with a slight smile. “In ten minutes she’ll have forgotten all about this trouble. Just go on home, Joaquín. Call her tomorrow. You’ll see.”
Joaquín nodded. “Later, Uncle Víctor.” He turned to leave, but his uncle grabbed his arm.
“Joaquín, we’ll just keep what happened between us, okay?” He paused, glanced across the street, and then looked back at him. “No use upsetting your mom, right?”
“No problem,” Joaquín said, and walked back to his car. As he got ready to drive away, he saw Uncle Víctor standing alone on Nanita’s front porch, staring at her car.
Joaquín drove off slowly, trying to make sense of the awful scene at his grandmother’s. As he turned the corner, he felt like he had walked out on Nanita when she needed him most. What am I doing? Nanita should know I care about her no matter what. I’ve got to go back today, not tomorrow.
He circled the next block and drove back to her house. Uncle Víctor’s white van was gone. This time Joaquín decided to park in the driveway behind his grandmother’s car.
Standing on the front porch, Joaquín knocked twice on the door frame like he usually did, and yelled through the screen door, “Hey, Nanita. I just got paid today. Put on your shoes. Let’s go get an ice cream cone. It’s my treat.”