Oldladyvoice by Elisa Victoria

Author:Elisa Victoria
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary fiction;debut;coming-of-age;Spanish;Seville;family;relationships;contemporary;literature in translation
Publisher: And Other Stories
Published: 2021-08-25T20:39:58+00:00

I’ve had a hellish night imagining a gang of Persian Gulfs running rampage through my school, delirious from the sound of the radio and the stifling heat, the cat pressed up against me. I try to focus on my excitement about getting to see Canica, who’s been away from us for more than two weeks and has no idea what’s going on. Now we’re in the waiting room at Animal Advocates, which offers boarding and grooming services. She’s upstairs, where they’ve been giving her a trim. Two weeks of being held hostage and on top of that they give her a bath and cut off her hair, poor thing. I wonder if she’s scared. I can hear her paws tapping hysterically on the floor above. Grandma laughs, she knows the dog’s been let loose and is thrilled to hear her voice. Canica charges gleefully down the stairs and comes over barking and leaping, running around in circles, ears back and tail wagging. She licks our faces.

“Oh, poor little Canica, poor, poor little thing,” Grandma comforts her, stroking her head. Being recently shorn makes her joy seem a tad pathetic. She looks like a different dog. We put on her leash and go out into the street. She can’t believe her luck. On the way we buy churros and two bags of kibble, one for dogs and one for cats. We pass only old people. At this time of day the best cartoons haven’t started yet, I’ll even get to see some of the ones I usually miss. It’s nice to get up early in the neighborhood. If only I could do it in a good mood every day.

It’s after three thirty, I’m not sure if it’s Thursday or Friday. Maybe it’s Monday? How could I lose track so quickly? The dog and cat hit it off as soon as they met and spend all day curled up together, napping. The most blistering heat of the year has settled into the houses, making everything perfectly still. It’s unpleasant and even unsafe to be in a rush. Time drags on. Lunch is laid out on the table, the blinds are down, the living room dark, the fan on a chair. Someone comes to the door. Grandma gets up and opens it. There’s a woman telling a long story that’s hard to hear with the TV on. She must’ve come to collect the maintenance fee or the water money or the latest Readers’ Circle book. Grandma asks her to wait a minute and goes into the kitchen. The woman steps furtively inside. Without making a sound, she bends her knees and reaches an arm down to the coffee table. Now she sees with a start that I’m sitting here and locks eyes with me. She smiles faintly but warmly. Maybe she knew me when I was a baby? I get that a lot. She’s acting suspiciously. A force radiates from her eyes and smile, making me freeze. She grasps something on the table. As soon as she closes her fist the look on her face is transformed.

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