My fingertips were sore as I yanked out stubborn weeds from the soil. The sun pressed down like a burning campfire. I wiped a pool of sweat that had gathered above my lip, looking down at my garden. I could never get it to look like Mami’s garden in Sinaloa. Hers was filled with mangos and oranges, alive in a way that I could never recreate. But I try. It’s the closest I feel to her.
“Jamón!” I called, my face scrunching as the fire grew stronger. I shoved a hefty amount of weeds into a bag and slowly walked over to the porch.
“Ok old man, come on. It’s already the afternoon and I know you’re hungry!” He was sprawled out, his back resting against the cool oak porch, his toys scattered around him, and bags of fertilizer nearby.
“Just like mi viejo…” I laughed to myself, shaking my head as I remembered how my husband used to lay around with Jamón on afternoons just like this.
I set the bag of weeds down next to Jamón’s toy mouse. I dusted my hands, Jamón stirring at the noise. He yawned, showing off his small sharp teeth. I watched as he slowly got up, waddling towards me.
nside, the TV mumbled in the background. “¿Una salsita con frijoles y arroz?” I asked Jamón. He looked up at me and meowed in agreement, rubbing his orange fur against my leg. He’s loved eating with me ever since my husband passed away a few years ago. I set a plate of arroz and frijoles on the floor for him— no salsa because he was allergic to cilantro–and I sat at the table.
“Provecho, viejo.” I giggled. I loved calling him viejo. It reminded me of my husband.
I made myself comfortable at the table and grabbed the remote. I turned the volume up and started eating.
On the screen, a weather reporter gestured at a map. “Forecasters say the Houston area is expected to experience severe weather, including heavy rain and strong winds that are potentially—” I changed the channel and landed on my novela, laughing at the screen. Jamón sat at my feet, making a mess of his food.
“Pansón.” He looked like a toddler learning to eat. My husband would always find that amusing. I laughed to myself and turned back to the TV.
At first, I didn’t notice anything.
The sounds were soft, buried beneath the chatter of the TV and the clinking of my fork. But, Jamón ears twitched.
The sun that once flooded into the house through the sliding door had dimmed. I stayed focused on the TV, laughing.
A low rumble shook the floor. It was intense, like a lion letting out a growl.
Jamón stood up from his bed, which was strange. He is a very lazy cat, always loved taking naps by the sliding door. He would never get up unless I forced him to.
“¿Qué pasó, viejo?” He meowed at me and looked out the window. “What’s wrong?”
I got up from the table and looked out the door. My garden was still, stiller than usual. The leaves stood frozen. It had felt like everything stopped, like the air had taken a break. The sky was dull, gray clouds folded into each other like thick blankets.
The air felt heavy.
The rumble grew louder. Jamón lowered his fluffy tail and squeezed himself between my legs.
A thin whistle slipped through the door. It was quiet, barely there, like someone who didn’t want to be heard.
The TV went black.
“What the hell?” I pushed random buttons on the remote.
“Come on–”
“Warning has been issued–seek shelter immedia–”
A loud siren sounded. The room filled with its piercing scream.
Loud.
Piercing.
“Ow..” I wince, the glass had sliced open my face and parts of my arms.
I managed to pull myself up from the floor and turned the bathroom sink on. I grabbed a rag and dipped it into the running water.
“I should have watched the news—” I wince, the rough material of the rag scrapes my skin as I try to clean my arms and face. In the mirror, I watch Jamón curl himself into a ball, poor thing..
The sounds hadn’t stopped, it sounded like it was tearing through the house. I could hear picture frames being thrown around, glass shattering as the howls grew louder. The lights inside the bathroom flickered and I could hear the walls rattling.
“Jamón, it’s going to be ok. Mami’s here…” I turn around and make my way over to the bathtub. I grabbed Jamón and climbed inside the tub. I sigh as I force myself to sit down, my legs shaking from my own weight. Jamón curls himself into my lap. I rub his back, feeling the soft fur running through my fingertips.
I could hear the wind growing louder.
It sounded like the ground itself was being pulled apart.
I was shaking, this was my first tornado without my husband so I wasn’t sure what to do. I hugged Jamón, pulling him into my chest and burying my face into his body. The walls shook harder, the ground vibrating beneath the tub.
The roaring built.
Louder and louder, it screamed at us. I closed my eyes, praying that this nightmare would end.
The lights began to flicker widely, on and of, on and off–
Then everything went black.
I flinched, over our heads I heard a crashing sound.
The house groaned in agony, its limbs being ripped apart.
“Viejo…por favor, ayudenos.” I sob into Jamón fur, I couldn’t help myself. All I could think about was my husband. He would know what to do.
And then everything gave.
Thousands of sounds flooded the bathroom. Splintering wood, shattering glass, heavy objects being thrown around.
Jamón squirmed in my arms, not knowing what was happening.
The sounds were intense, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. I cried louder. “Viejo” I sobbed, not knowing what else to say.
The bathroom door rattled violently.
Again.
And again.
And then, it burst open.
Every sound I heard outside made its way into the bathroom. I screamed and a force of wind knocked me against the wall. Jamón screamed as he too was slammed against the wall. I grabbed Jamón tighter and lay down in the tub, using my body as a human shield. Debris flooded the bathroom, moving around us too fast to even comprehend what was happening.
Something heavy struck the wall beside us, shaking the tub from the force. I held onto the tub harder, digging my nails into the side of it.
Another impact, but this time even stronger.
I could hear the ceiling groaning, the sound of wood splitting making everything around me feel small.
I looked up and I saw it. A huge crack directly on top of the tub. And I knew what would happen.
I look back down at Jamón.
I cry, thick tears streaming down my face as I look into Jamón’s dark eyes. I let go of the tub and grabbed the back of Jamón’s neck. With all the strength I had left, I threw him out the bathtub.
His screams are muffled from the crash of the ceiling caving in.
I watch as huge pieces of wood come hurling towards me. I screamed and I felt the moment one of the pieces of wood pierced through my abdomen.
The winds roared louder, laughing at my pain pressing harder.
I stretch my arm out, desperately thrashing around. I cried and screamed but they were muffled. I couldn’t breathe. Consumed by the ceiling. My lungs filled with blood as I lost consciousness. And then everything stopped. Everything went silent.
No more wind. No more pain. And there he was, mi viejo.
“I’ve been waiting for you, amor.”
Authors Note:
This is a story about Grandma and Jamón. It’s told through Grandma’s perspective as she tries her best to survive through a deadly tornado with her cat. This story was inspired by a focus free write I wrote in class about a man caught outside in a storm and unfortunately being crushed by a tree. I hope my readers can take away that Grandma sacrificed herself because that was her last act of love. This is her keeping the memory of her husband alive.
Written by Estrella Moran Ortega
Vol. 03 Absurdity
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