When Grandmother finds us in the kitchen, she comes to mother immediately and grips her arm. “Elena," she says softly. Mother pulls herself upright and wipes at her eyes. She sniffles pathetically despite her obvious attempts to reel in her emotion. Grandmother looks from me to mother and mutters something I don't understand.
“Elena, it is enough now. You tell her everything," grandmother says sternly.
I'm taken aback by this. First Aunt Vanessa, now Grandmother knows something about all of this too?
“Mama," mother starts, but grandmother waves her hand to silence her.
“I told you when she was born with a caul on her little face that this was going to be the way of things," grandmother tuts.
“Mama, that's just superstition." Mother crosses her arms across her middle.
I perk up
