“Malinda! Malinda!”
Amanda turned from the mirror when she heard her nickname. She hadn’t heard her grandmother use it in months.
Could it be? Was Buelita getting better?
Amanda’s face brightened. She saw her grandmother standing in the open doorway of the bedroom. “Isn’t this a great dress?” She did a fashion model’s spin on the balls of her bare feet. “How do I look, Buelita?”
Her grandmother clasped her wrinkled hands near her heart. “Muy linda, muy linda. So pretty, so pretty. You look like a queen—una reina.”
Amanda tried not to frown. A queen wasn’t the image she wanted. She wanted to look like a teen superstar, a glamorous actress or a magazine model. She wanted to walk into Loyola’s party next Saturday night and hear everyone say, “Wow! Look at Amanda Saldaña!”
She turned back to the long mirror propped against the bedroom window between her bed and her little sister’s. Amanda had bought it with her own money last summer because the popular girls at school dressed to impress. Every morning she stood at the mirror and made sure her clothes got someone’s attention.
Suddenly everything in her closet looked so boring compared to this black sleeveless dress with strips of red satin lining the V neckline.
Mom’s got to be crazy to donate this fabulous dress to Good Shepherd, she told herself. That’s just like tossing it in the trash! Lucky me, I got to the dress first!
Just thirty minutes ago Amanda had found the dress thrown inside a box marked for the thrift store. She stashed it inside her backpack then she folded up the box and carried it to the car. Her mother drove off with Amanda’s little sister to run errands, leaving Amanda and Buelita at home. Once her grandmother was safe in her bedroom watching a telenovela, Amanda slipped away to try on the secret treasure in her backpack.
Now as Amanda looked again in the mirror and turned from side to side, she grabbed at the shoulders before the black dress slipped off her. She also had to wrap the rhinestone belt three extra times around her waist.
If only she knew how to cut it down to her own size!
“I remember sewing this dress,” Buelita said. Her brown leather shoes squished softly as she walked into the room. She stared up and down at Amanda, with one gray eyebrow slightly raised.
They stood together in the mirror’s reflection. Her grandmother’s head barely reached Amanda’s shoulders. Her gray hair looked wiry and stuck out in every direction. Her faded blouse and loose knit pants hung badly, like they should be worn by someone else.
Amanda sighed. Where’s that pretty lady who went to a beauty shop every week? Where’s my “fun Grandma” who wore colorful blouses and wide straw hats on school field trips? Why did Buelita turn into a person who couldn’t remember simple things like what day it was or if she had eaten breakfast?
“Ay, Alicia, I made this dress to fit Mónica, tu hermana, no?” Buelita’s thin fingers were still strong as they pinched the fabric over Amanda’s hips. “Muy grande— too big for you, Alicia.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “I’m Amanda, Buelita. Alicia is my mom, remember?” She let herself be tugged and pulled as her grandmother attempted to get a better fit on the dress at the waistline. “Did you already forget? You called me Malinda.”
She hoped saying the nickname again would help her grandmother remember. As the first granddaughter, everyone in the family would declare, “Amanda es muy linda, muy linda.” One of Amanda’s first words had been “malinda” and it became a family nickname. Most of the family had dropped it except for Buelita. She had continued to use it affectionately, until like many names in the past two years, Buelita barely remembered it.
“Darts in the back, cut some from the hips, no?” Her grandmother smiled. “Mi’jita, don’t feel sad. I can fix up your sister’s dress.” She grabbed at the shoulders and folded all the extra fabric into itself, lifting the dress into a more fitted cut, pressing it tighter against Amanda’s body.
Amanda could imagine the dress redone just for her. It would look awesome!
Her grandmother had always been a good seamstress. She had sewn clothes for all the family. She had even made three wedding gowns for Amanda’s mother and her two sisters, Tía Mónica and Tía Nance.
“Could you fix this dress for me, Buelita?” She smiled at her grandmother’s reflection in the mirror. “I want to wear it to a party on Saturday.”
Her grandmother stepped behind Amanda, the dress fabric still tight in her hands. “I need some pins. Bring out the sewing machine,” she said. “Bobbin-lace closes early on Saturday. My thin ripper, scissors leave holes.”
Amanda shivered as a cold, sick feeling slid down her back. Buelita’s words didn’t make sense. Hadn’t the doctors told Mom that short term memory was affected most by dementia?
But Buelita shouldn’t forget how to sew since it was something she had done for so many years. She had even taught Amanda how to sew straight seams on the machine, and how to use a hand needle to sew on buttons and finish hems.
Amanda gently pulled herself free from her grandmother’s hands. “I’ll find some pins, Buelita. You wait here, okay?” She turned around. Her grandmother’s small brown eyes stared up at Amanda like a child’s. “Now don’t move, Buelita. I’ll be right back, okay?” She gasped as the dress slid down. She grabbed with both hands to hold it up.
Buelita laughed with a little girl’s giggle. “You can’t go to the dance unless I fix the dress, Malinda.”
Amanda smiled easily. “I love you, Buelita.” She walked into her grandmother’s bedroom as best she could with that big dress, wondering, what’ll I tell Mom? By the time she walked out, she believed, I’ll think of something!
“Will you pin the dress and fit it for me, Buelita?” Amanda proudly placed the cloth tomato pin cushion into her grandmother’s hands.
“I can make it fit you. Let’s see.”
Amanda faced the mirror. The black dress would be spectacular! When was the last time she felt so excited? Wearing this great dress to her first eighth grade party! Helping her grandmother do something she loved! Buelita was feeling strong, she was getting healthy. How great it was to hear “Malinda” today!
Happy thoughts danced in her head as Buelita pinned and pinned and pinned.
Finally Buelita finished and said, “Done.” She walked out of Amanda’s bedroom, holding an empty pin cushion.
Amanda struggled to unzip the dress and pulled it over her head. She felt like a human pin cushion by the time she put on her T-shirt and jeans. She picked up the prickly dress and headed for her grandmother’s bedroom.
Buelita sat in her comfortable striped chair in front of the television. The tomato pin cushion had been abandoned on top of it.
Amanda felt disappointed that the sewing machine in the corner of the room was still covered by a white sheet. She’d just remind Buelita to sew it later. “Here’s my dress, Buelita. I’ll leave it on the chair at the sewing machine, okay? Do you need anything?”
Buelita leaned forward as a handsome man’s face filled the television screen. He spoke, “Te adoro mi amor.”
Amanda left her grandmother’s bedroom just as a mascara-heavy lady promised her undying love.
Later as the family ate lunch together Amanda worried that Buelita might say something about the dress. But her grandmother quietly ate her half sandwich and drank her coffee. Amanda’s little sister talked about silly stuff she was doing with her friends next door. Her mother was half-listening as she ate lunch and opened the envelopes that had come in the day’s mail.
Just as Amanda finished eating Lily and Jennifer called. They invited Amanda to the mall. As the girls walked in and out of different stores they talked about Loyola’s party all afternoon: what boys would be there, who got invited, who didn’t; what outfits would look great or terrible.
Amanda almost told her friends about her plans, but she didn’t want to spoil the surprise of the dress. Instead she bought long earrings decorated with three rows of red stones dangling from the black wires. The purchase left only two quarters and three nickels in her wallet.
It was almost dinner time when Amanda happily returned to the house. As she walked in the back door, immediately she felt something’s wrong!
Nothing cooked on the stove. Her mother sat alone in the dining room, the black dress tossed on the table in front of her. It was turned inside out, and various seams had been ripped apart. Her mother sat there, her shoulders drooping, her fingers stroking the fabric.
Amanda held her breath. Would she get into big trouble for taking the dress? What if she got grounded and couldn’t go to the party at all?
Her mother turned and stared at her. “Oh, Amanda, you’re home.”
She stood on shaking legs, waiting for her mother’s anger.
Only Mom didn’t look mad. Her brown eyes were round with deep sadness. Her voice was very quiet and calm. “How was the mall?”
“Mom, is everything okay? Did something happen to Buelita?”
Her mother sighed. “No, Buelita is fine. She’s still napping. It’s just … ” She paused and sighed again. “It’s just that I found her sewing this afternoon. She had used the seam ripper on my old dress. She said she was making it for me. That Monica’s dress would look pretty on me.”
Amanda’s fingers tightened on the handle of her purse. She stepped closer to the table but couldn’t speak. What could she say?
“Why would your grandmother take this dress out of the donation box? And why would she think that it was Monica’s dress? She made it for me years ago for a Christmas party.” Her mother shook her head. “I think she’s getting worse, Amanda. She got very upset when I took the dress away from her.” She spread her hand across the black fabric. “Buelita said she needed to finish the dress by Saturday for the party. None of this makes any sense. Buelita is getting sicker.”
“Oh, Mom!” Amanda sank into the nearest chair. “It isn’t Buelita’s fault.” She placed her purse and her jewelry bag on the table. “I’m the one who took the dress. Buelita saw me wearing it. She said she could fit it to my size.”
She swallowed hard and clasped her hands to keep them from trembling. “I’m sorry, Mom—but if you had only seen Buelita this morning. Today she called me Malinda. Then she pinned up the back and sides just like she used to fit me for Easter dresses. I—I thought if she was doing something she used to do—like sewing—maybe she might remember other stuff too. I’m sorry, Mom. Please don’t be upset with Buelita.” She stared down at the ripped seams of the black dress. She sighed, ready to accept her mother’s punishment for acting so selfishly. “It was my fault, not hers.”
Mom’s cool hand wrapped around Amanda’s wrist. She squeezed gently. “Thanks for telling me the truth, Malinda. I got so upset by what your grandmother said that I didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. She did look happy as she took the dress apart and chattered about ways to fix it.” She straightened up in the chair and gave Amanda a stern look. “But there’s still the fact that this dress is too mature for a fourteen year old girl. Where were you planning to wear this dress anyway?”
Amanda’s voice was very low. “To Loyola’s party.”
“Ah-ha—that’s the party Buelita was talking about. Now this makes more sense.” She gave her daughter a nod. “Well, I need to start supper. You take this dress and put it back in my closet for now. Later we’ll talk about that party of yours.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen.
Amanda pulled the dress across the table and crumbled it together like it was old rags. She had probably blown her chances of going to the party. She grabbed her purse and the expensive earrings that matched nothing in her closet and stomped upstairs. She hung up the dress, sticking it in a far corner of her mother’s closet. She walked into her bedroom. Luckily her little sister wasn’t around to ask nosey questions.
Amanda flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling just as tears stung her eyes. She wiped the tears as quickly as they slipped out. Was she crying for herself or for Buelita? How she wished she never taken that stupid dress!
It took a few moments before Amanda realized that her grandmother was calling out, “Malinda! Malinda, come here.”
Amanda sat up and wiped her cheeks. She climbed off the bed and walked to her grandmother’s room. “Do you need something, Buelita?”
Her grandmother was trying to lift the lid on the wide wooden chest near the sewing machine. “I can’t open this. Ayúdame, help me.”
Amanda knelt down beside it. “You have to press this button first, Buelita.” She pushed in the metal lock and then lifted up the lid. “See?”
It had been years since Amanda had looked inside this wooden chest where her grandmother had kept extra fabrics. Various colors, patterns and rich solid colors were piled inside. “What are you looking for, Buelita?”
“Do you know how to sew?” Buelita reached down and took a piece of yellow fabric with pink flowers into her hands. “Pretty, no?” She waved it in Amanda’s direction. She dropped it and picked up a piece of bright red fabric with tiny stars.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “I remember that material, Buelita. You taught me to sew a skirt using it. Do you remember when I made the skirt for a school play?” She smiled up at her grandmother. “Do you remember that?”
The old woman looked at Amanda and gave a little smile. “We made the skirt together. You sewed crooked stitches, Malinda. I had to fix them.”
Amanda looked back into the chest again. She dropped her hand among the fabrics and enjoyed the feel of the different textures on her fingers. She felt something cool and smooth, and gently pulled the material up from the bottom of the pile. It was a maroon fabric with tiny black diamonds shimmering across it. “Buelita, this is beautiful material, isn’t it?” And then she thought, this could look so cool with my new earrings.
She spread the fabric over her lap and looked up at her grandmother. “Buelita, do you think we can make another skirt together?”
The old woman stared hard at Amanda as if she struggled to find the right answer. She finally said, “Bobbins and Lace closes early on Saturdays.”
Suddenly Amanda remembered and understood her grandmother’s words.
Amanda told her, “The sewing store will be open tomorrow, Sunday, too. What do you need to buy, Buelita?”
“A pattern, some new thread and a zipper.” Her grandmother spoke as if she knew exactly what she wanted. “We can make una falda para una fiesta.”
Buelita’s happy voice made Amanda smile. It didn’t matter if she wore the skirt to Loyola’s party, or if she even went to the party at all. Sewing together could give her a way to stay connected to her sweet Buelita even if other memories slipped away.
Amanda set aside the pretty fabric for her skirt and reached for a different piece. “There are so many pieces of material here, Buelita. What should we make with this one?”