“It’s true, whether you believe me or not, it’s true.” Minerva said this in a singsongy voice. She gave a challenging raise of her eyebrow, meant to be playful, nonchalant. And accompanied it with a knowing, almost teasing smile, meant to be playful as well but seeming to say “I know better than you” in a mocking tone.

There was so much to read on her face and only so many ways to read it. Pride? For what? For continuing to stand her ground? Unlikely, it seemed to stem simply from being right. It seemed that without their gratefulness for her insight she had had to look elsewhere. Had to look to herself for praise.

Maggie could almost hear Minerva’s attempts at self soothing. “They’ll see I’m right. I don’t want it to have to be that way. But they’ll see. Hopefully before it’s too late.” And, “Young people are always like this. The saying goes, el diablo sabe mas por viejo que por diablo. It’s fine, oh well, they’ll find out soon enough.”

She would much rather they find out than nothing happen at all. How awful the possibility must seem to her. Of nothing happening at all. Of nothing going wrong. Of them not being right, because they weren’t, how could they be if they weren’t… but still, what if they never saw how right she was? What if they always kept this false impression that they were right all along?

That possibility seemed infinitely worse than nothing going wrong. If they didn’t know the truth so many things could go wrong. Just think all the things that could go wrong if nothing went wrong in the first place to warn them!

Of course, if nothing did go wrong… as a grandmother she would feel ultimately relieved. Thank god, thank god that regardless of their negligence her prayers kept her precious grandchildren protected.

Then there was the air of resignation in her face. But it was a very special type of resignation. She was not resigned to quit trying. No, that wouldn’t be right. It was a much greater sacrifice on her part. She was resigned to never stop trying. She would just have to keep telling them over and over again. Maybe one day they’d listen. And she will have saved their lives.

“Words are wasted on those who do not listen.” The words slipped out of Maggie’s mouth but the thought had not crossed her mind. Maggie’s thoughtful expression and slight shock must have given that away. Although, she tried to keep the fact to herself. It didn’t seem appropriate to share such a strange occurrence with such a structured, correct person.

There was a pause. The stillness was weighty. Minerva had stopped rocking. Her smile had faded. And she seemed to think about Maggie’s words. But of course, it was not Maggie’s words she thought about but rather her own. What could she, should she, respond here?

What an odd way of Maggie’s, to almost admit her fault without apologizing or even hinting at changing her ways. What a formal and indirect way to tell Minerva to shut up.

How stupid she felt, really. She would never let them see that. But here she was. With all the knowledge she had acquired over the years. Two sons and four nieces and nephews. Why all of a sudden, was she not trusted with this baby? Her own grandson? Or even her granddaughter?

How afraid she felt. How afraid she felt for her son and daughter in law. Doing this on their own. How afraid she felt for her grandchildren. How vile that they kept them apart from her. Such a sacred relationship. Her so willing and available and yet…

Finally, Minerva’s proud smile spread back across her face, “You never know what the needy will actually do with your gifts but you must keep on giving.” She replied, holding her sleeping grandson closer as if inspired by her own words.

But was she inspired because she had really, truly thought about them? Or similarly to Maggie had they somehow just popped out of her mouth? Maybe for Minerva they had just barely crossed her mind. Seeming just celever, just true enough.

How parallel the moments felt. And yet how unseen both women seemed.

That was Gavin’s cue to get up. He gave a tired sigh, a yawn, and walked over to his mother, arms extended for his son. “Alright, goodnight mother. We have a lot to do still.”

Maggie collected their belongings, her sleeping daughter made small protests in her arms. She was prepared for their escape. And although she was not meant to she did hear right under Gavin’s breath, “Do you hear yourself mother?”

No, not even she could stand the sound, Maggie thought to herself.