Human Sister

understood that Carlos was not “one of the workers,” that he was, in fact, much more important for the vineyard than she was, Grandma sweetened her voice and said, “Now, honey, about the clothes and toys and internet: Grandpa wants love and ideas and good music—culture—to fill you and give you a fertile mind. One of his greatest fears is that wealth will soften and corrupt you. He and I both want you to learn that you can have a wonderful life that is rich and fulfilling and overflowing with love, even though you consume few material things in the process. I’m confident you’ll understand this someday. But in the meanwhile, please know that Grandpa and I love you with all our hearts and are raising you the best way we know how. Aren’t your clothes comfortable?”
    “Yes,” I answered, for they were comfortable; I’d picked them out myself at Carlos’s house, and Grandma had perfected them with appropriate alterations. After running the matter quickly through my mind again, I added, “Elio can’t know how nice my clothes are. He’s never had a chance to try them on.”
    “That’s right, honey,” she replied, and we went on with our work, undoubtedly appearing, had a stranger seen us, to be a contented grandmother cultivating her garden beside her barefoot grandchild, who had boyish hair (cut by then like Elio’s, the way I wanted it) and who wore a long-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of patched and faded jeans.

    After landing at Schiphol near Amsterdam and passing through Customs, I spotted Aunt Lynh and Elio standing in a crowd of people. I pulled my hand away from Grandpa’s and ran ahead of the luggage cart straight toward Elio. Seeing him at last in person, I was nearly bursting with excitement and wanted to hug him. But instead of opening his arms to me, he stiffly extended his hand. I’d seen Grandpa shake hands with people before, but Elio’s outstretched hand and unexpectedly solemn face quelled my excitement. Didn’t he want to see me?
    I turned to look back at Grandpa, who was approaching with the cart. His smile and nod gave me courage. I ignored Elio’s extended hand and hugged him. He hugged me back. I liked the feel of him, and I liked his smell, which reminded me of dew on young winter grass.
    When he released his hold on me, he looked up at his mother. “I told you she wouldn’t want to shake hands. It’s so off-putting.”
    Elio and I sat in the backseat of Aunt Lynh’s car, Grandpa in the front, as Aunt Lynh drove. Her car wasn’t as quiet inside as Grandpa and Grandma’s. When she began telling Grandpa about her new research job at a teaching hospital, Elio motioned for me to be quiet, then bent over and reached under Grandpa’s seat. He pulled out a little model of the ASST-77 Grandpa and I had arrived on, handed it to me, and whispered, “Ma says I can’t give you any gifts, but this is for you anyway. Don’t let her see it.”
    I was delighted with the toy plane and played with it out of sight of the rearview mirror until Aunt Lynh said, “You two are awfully quiet back there.”
    Elio grabbed the plane from me and shoved it under his leg. “Just playing, Ma.”
    Northern Europe’s long-lingering midsummer sun, whorling gold and red, hung low in the sky as we exited the automated motorway near Aunt Lynh’s apartment. As soon as we parked, Elio opened the car door and shouted, “Follow me!”
    We ran out into a well-kept park that was surrounded by the six buildings of the apartment complex. We had just come to a large tree with serrated heart-shaped leaves and a pleasant fruity scent (I later learned that it was a linden tree) when I heard Aunt Lynh call: “Elio! Come here!”
    His shoulders and head drooped.
    “Come here—right now!”
    “Aw, Ma!”
    “Now!”
    We walked back—Elio appearing dejected, like a balloon that had lost its air—to where she and Grandpa stood beside the luggage.
    “Elio, haven’t I told you not to take Sara near that tree?”
    He merely shrugged.
    “Now, you listen real good, mister. If you get Sara hurt horsing around, you’ll be grounded for the rest of the summer. That means in your room, no internet, no movies, no going out with your friends—all summer. Got it? She’s younger and she’s not used to playing with the kind of roughnecks you play with, so you’ve got to use your head and be careful. And don’t you dare climb in that tree with her. Are you listening to me?”
    “Jeez, Ma.”
    “Don’t