And This Is

“And these are some trees that were all golden. The photo doesn’t do it justice. It was magical.”

I’d been hesitant to accept Elvira’s invitation to tea when we met at a dance three nights before. She could sense my reluctance and became vivaciously persuasive. Among other things, she explained, at the dance the music was far too loud to exchange anything except smiles. She would invite a few of her friends as well, so I’d meet some more people in town. When I got to her house, it turned out she’d changed her mind. Other people could wait. This was now all about getting to know me. The thing about the tea was still as advertised, however. She had no coffee. She did have jasmine tea, hibiscus, peppermint, lemon ginger, cinnamon apple, and chamomile. And, yes, she did have Earl Grey somewhere in a tin. When she couldn’t find it, I settled for lemon ginger.

Mugs in hands, we embarked on a tour of her house. Two bedrooms, one converted into an office and sewing room, a large combination living and dining room laid out in an L-shape, a large kitchen separated from the dining area by a table-height narrow wall topped by a wooden shelf. A long hallway divided the bedrooms from the living/dining room and kitchen area, with bathrooms on each end of the hallway. Just about every inch of wall space, including in the bathrooms, was covered with photographs.

“And this is Chaco Canyon. It still gives me chills to think of all that’s gone before us. And no, it’s not a canyon, really. Or maybe it is, but it doesn’t look like one. Not my idea of a canyon anyway. Well, it has to be one, or they wouldn’t call it a canyon. One of the guides explained it all, but it went over my head. Anyway, I have some better photos on my phone. I haven’t printed them yet.”

“It reminds me a bit of—”

“Look, here,” she interrupted. “Oh, I just loved these flowers. They’re nothing special perhaps, but so beautiful. And this is Fajada Butte. And here, this is a photo of my friend Gary. He gave me some arrowheads he found during an impromptu picnic on the side of some road. I can show them to you later. And this is, oh, wow, this gives me goosebumps. The sun was about to set, and it started raining, and we got this double rainbow.”

She spoke in a whisper now and moved one hand toward her gray eyes, then stroked it over her unruly long red wavy hair that made her look like a Celtic princess. She was captivated by her photos and clicked through one after another on her phone. Some of the images were truly stunning.

“Oh, and this is a red-tailed hawk in flight. I have a tail feather somewhere that somebody gave me. Some twenty years ago. Can you imagine? The bird itself is probably long gone. Across the rainbow bridge. If birds do that. I’m not sure. You know, like cats and dogs do. Maybe birds can simply fly off to wherever they are going.”

Her gurgled laughter was contagious.

“I think—”

“I have a great print of this one on the wall in the hallway. Over here.” She put her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and led me slowly through the length of her hallway, then back, while we admired framed print after print, first on one side, then on the other.

She wanted to top off her hibiscus tea and offered to make another cup of lemon ginger tea for me. I declined.

“And this is basil. Someone from the co-op gave it to me. It’s been growing ever since. Doing well, too.” She touched the pot of fragrant green leaves on the kitchen windowsill overlooking her small garden. We hadn’t looked at her garden yet.

“I am planning on growing—”

“And this is rosemary. And that jar is alfalfa sprouts, though they’re not very far yet, as you can see.”

I nodded. We wandered back to her living room and sank down in two deep non-matching brown faux leather recliners facing each other at a ninety-degree angle.

“The shawl on the back of your chair? A former teacher gave it to me. She embroidered it herself. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

It was. I got the idea that people were in the habit of giving her things and regretted that I had brought nothing. I should have brought a small gift.

I touched a pair of high heeled silver sandals standing side by side on the small coffee table between us, rhinestones glittering on their straps and heels.

“I have—”

“Oh, these are my favorites. My friend Alan just fixed the heels for me. No charge. If you ever need any shoes fixed. Let me give you his number.” She jumped up and started rummaging in the drawer of a slightly dilapidated looking antique cupboard. I pulled my four-color pen out of my purse to write down the number.

“I don’t seem to be able to find it,” she finally said, turning to me with a shrug of her slender shoulders. “Oh, look at your pen. I used to have one like that when I was a kid. I think mine was pastel colors, though.”

“Would you like it?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Go ahead. I have about a dozen of them at home.”

With a smile lighting up her porcelain face, she accepted my pen. I was certain I could find the shoemaker on my own rather than pursuing the issue further there and then. She placed the pen on a shelf by the cupboard. “Oh, and this is one of my favorite crystals. It came to me when I was wandering on Guadalupe Peak. Or El Capitan. I don’t remember which. Isn’t it gorgeous?” It was. Six inches in diameter, it had a purple core with a white crystal crust surrounding it. It was heavy when she handed it to me to hold.

“But enough about me and my stuff,” she said. “I want to get to know you. Tell me something about yourself.”

I didn’t know what to say. I tentatively opened my mouth.

“Are you going to like living here?” she asked.

“I think so. I—”

Her wristwatch alarm went off. “Oh, God,” she said. “Time flies. It’s my reminder I have to go and meet my accountant in fifteen minutes. This was so much fun. We have to do it again soon. I want to know more about you. Maybe next time.”