The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (19 page)

“Does Hilargi have a meaning?”

“It means ‘moon’.”

“And ‘Eguski’?”

She smiled. “It means ‘sun’. My mom always says she knew they were meant for each other when she
found out what his name means
.”

“What are Matt’s and Mark’s rend ="+0" fal names?”

“Matt and Mark.”

“They don’t have Basque names?”

“Nope. My grandfather passed away before they were born. My parents didn’t bother with a Basque name. My mom can’t even speak it.”

“And ‘Sorne’?”

“It means ‘conception’.”

“So if you were Hispanic, your name would be ‘Concepcion’.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. ‘Concepcion’
refers to the I
mm
aculate C
onception. ‘Sorne’ means conception in the everyday sense.
My parents were married seven years before I was born. My grandfather was so happy when he learned his daughter-in-law was pregnant that he named me for the event
that caused it
.
”

As we cruised down I 40, I
debated
whether to mention my conversation wi
th her brothers
.

The
nays won the debate
.

19

Susannah dropped me off around six.

We didn’t have time for
Dos Hermanas
because
the fall semester had
started
,
and she had the first meeting o
f her
Baroque Art
class
at 6:30.

As she hates to hear me say about her rule never to miss class,
if it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it.

I called Tristan and
asked him to drop by in the morning with
the topo maps I needed.

I hobbled
over to the
fridge.
The only thing
s
in there
were the
Gruet
rosé
,
some limp cilantro, a white onion and
what might have once been a fruit of some type.

“
Another dieting opportunity at hand
,” I said out
loud
.

My stomach rumbled in reply.

I decided to read. T
he only book I had was
Ben-Hur
, so
I
gave
it another try.
T
he portion I read described a meal of
“
wine
in small gurglets of skin
” and
dried
m
utto
n
.
This was prefaced by an explanation of how the character cleaned his camel’s nose.

I don’t like wine unlelikf how thss it has bubbles. I suspect I would like it even less in a gurglet of skin, whatever that is.

I closed
Ben-Hur
and
opened the phone book to the restaurant section to see what I could have delivered.
Surely I could do better than dried mutton.

I
rarely
phone out for
meals
because I don’t eat pizza or Chinese food
.
I was hoping there might be
an
other choice. I saw a listing for a place called Lettuce Cater and was just starting to dial when Miss Gladys appeared at my door
with one of her canvas bags trimmed in checked gingham, a sight for sore eyes and an empty stomach.

In keeping with her new international theme, i
t was an Irish casserole, although I suspect no one in Dublin has ever tasted anything like it.

“This one came from Mars
ha Garcia.
”

“Marsha Garcia was Irish?”

“Heavens no.
She
was a deep-roots Texan.
Her great, great, great grandfather was
Gregorio Esparza
, one of the six
Tejanos
who died along
side Crockett and Bowie
in the Alamo.
She
got the inspiration from a corned beef sandwich she ate on St. Patrick’s Day a
t
a restaurant in
San Antonio
. They served it with green beer, but I don’t have any of that.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes twinkled. “For the casserole or for nero="Palatinoot having any green beer.”

“Both.”

“This one practically put itself together. You don’t even have to measure. You
start by tearing
pumpernickel bread
into pieces and putting them into a buttered casserole dish. You can get rid of old bread this way because dried bread absorbs the flavors better. You cover the bread with diced corned beef then
a jar of
sauerkraut
then a bag of
shredded Swiss cheese
. Next you mix a
carton of eggs,
a jar of ranch dressing
and a can of Campbell
’
s
Cream of Celery Soup
and pour the mixture
over everything. You can bake it right then if you want to, but it’s even better if you let it sit in the refrigerator overnight. That way the egg
s
,
dressing
and soup
really work
their
way into the bread.”

After being around Miss Gladys all these years, I
have gotten used to having
terms like
‘
can
’
,
‘
bag
’
, ‘jar’
and
‘
carton
’
used as recipe amounts.

She was ladling the stuff onto a plate as she spoke. It looked like a corned beef sandwich
run through a blender.

“Where do you get
the
corned beef?”ornLinoty

“I buy it from the deli section of Smith’s.”

I breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t from a can, took a bite and wished she had brought the dolmades casserole instead.

The word ‘pumpernickel’ sounds like
a character from a Wagnerian opera
,
and the taste lasts almost as long.

“What do you think of it?
” she asked.

“Miss Gladys, in all the years you’ve been letting me sample your casseroles, I
’ve
never tasted one like this.”

“I just knew you would like it.”

I took another very small bite.

She
canted her head and said,
“
Did you have a dinner guest Saturday night?”

“I did.”

“I thought so. I saw
an
African-American girl go into your shop Saturday night
with
a stem of yucca blossoms
.
Our society has changed, hasn’t it?”

“Yes
it has
. When I was growing up, girls never brought flowers to boys.”

She colored slightly. “I was referring to your date being
African-American
.“

“She’s not
African-American
.”

“I could have sworn
—“

“She’s Canadian.”

“Oh,” she said, slightly confused. “Well, she is very pretty.
”

“She is.”

“Have you known her long?”

“I’ve known her for
three
years
or so
.
She works for my dentist as an assistant and a hygienist.
Saturday was our first date
, but it won’t be out last
.”

“You’ve asked her out again?”

“S
he asked me.
Women
not only bring fl
owers these days, they also invite men on dates. I’m having dinner at her house on Saturday.”

20

Even though I had brushed, flossed and gargled with minty mouthwash before retiring, I woke up
the next
morning with the taste of pumpernickel in my mouth.

I
repeated those oral hygiene
procedures
in the morning, but a faint taste of pumpernickel seemed to
linger
.

Tristan arrived with the maps I’d requested and breakfast burritos from
Casa de Benavidez
up on
4
^th
street. They were stuffed with egg, potatoes, red chile and
c
arne adovada
. One whiff of those burritos and ce=. pan>
that
product for bald guys called
H
air in a Can
.

I suspect Shar
ice
would
disapprove
o
f
my not
brush
ing
again after breakfast, but I figured leaving the
red chile and
c
arne adovada
juices in my mouth all day was the only way to rid it of
the
pumpernickel
taste.