Page 81 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“Hacen una hermosa pareja1,” she says.
Hunter smiles at her even though I don’t think he understands. “Is this your music?” he asks her.
I translate and she nods.
I tug my grandma in for a hug, wrapping my arm around her. “Abuela plays the piano. She’s very good and she loves music – all kinds.”
“Does she like mine?”
I ask her.
“Si,” she says, then points at Hunter, “but he should sing more. He has a nice deep voice.”
I peer at him. “Yes, he does.”
“What?” he asks me with suspicion.
“She says you’re okay.”
Hunter catches sight of the old record player in the corner and the collection of records standing in a neat row.
“I thought you said your grandma sold all her records.”
“Only the few that were worth something. Most of them aren’t.”
He stands up, the sofa groaning as he does and my grandma giggling, and goes to sift through the records.
“Es tan grande, Isabella2,” she says with admiration. “¿Todo él es grande3?” She winks at me and I tap my nose.
“I don’t know most of these artists,” he confesses as he holds up the sleeves to read them.
My grandma places her work to one side and follows Hunter over to the records. She taps him on the shoulder, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach.
“You like Elvis?” she asks him in English.
“Yes.”
“The Beatles.”
“Yes.”
“Beyonce.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I like Beyonce.”
She turns around to me. “Tiene buen gusto. Pero eso ya lo sabíamos4.”
I roll my eyes at her.
My grandmother bats Hunter’s hands away from the records and scans them, pulling out an old worn one that’s one of her favorites.
“This one is the best,” she tells Hunter, holding up theLos Van Vanrecord.
“Ahhh, yeah, now I know these guys. They’re legends.”
Gently, he lifts the needle from the record player and removes the disc, replacing it with the one in his hand.
My grandma sucks in a breath, watching him like a hawk as he settles the needle carefully on the record. The sound of the claves, bongo bell, and maracas have me shuffling my feet to the rhythm.
