The Rebellious Son: A Fairy Tale -- Part 15

The Virgin Mary sat at the table and waited for the devil’s grandmother to arrive. They hadn’t met in quite some time and the Virgin Mary was slightly anxious about the visit.

The devil's grandmother was late, as always. Excuses, lame or not, were expected. However, the Virgin Mary couldn’t help but feel irritated. "She doesn’t respect my time," she thought with distress. "If she doesn’t respect my time then she doesn’t respect me!"

The son of the Virgin Mary was out picking berries. He would not return until well after dark. She was beginning to worry with this new habit of his, staying out so late. There were many kind creatures in the forest but it seemed to her that things were shifting toward a grayness. The clouds were heavy, sure, but there was more to it than weather. The creatures were not shedding their thick coats of fur, not even in the warm months. Some, like the wild cat and goats, were allowing their fur to grow long and shaggy. What this was all about the Virgin Mary had no clue.

She heard a slight tapping on the door. Must be the devil’s grandmother.

She opened the door to an old frail woman wearing a white scarf. Her wrinkled face was bright but also ridden with burden.

“Come in grandmother,” said the Virgin Mary, “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been waiting too long, you know. You do know you make me wait?”

The old woman breathed in with slight irritation. “Oh woman of the son, won’t you ever be gracious?”

“Sit, sit. Who wouldn’t be kind to an old woman?”

The devil’s grandmother took a seat at the table and took off her white scarf.

“Are you hungry?”

“Oh, to eat again,” said the old woman, “I haven’t had a bite all day.”

“Who doesn’t like a little bite?” said the Virgin Mary as she ran off to fetch some bread. She returned with a nice thick slice.

“No butter?” said the devil’s grandmother.

“I never knew you favored butter.”

“Are there folks living or dead that don’t need butter?”

"Well, I don’t always have to have it with fresh bread! Let your old eyes see the steam rise!”

Grandmother, bursting with irritation, took a large bite out of the bread, small crumbs fell from her dry lips. With some food still in her mouth she grumbled, “Where’s that sweet boy of yours? I’d like to see him soon.”

“Oh, he’s out. Picking berries. He likes to stay out late. This strange new habit worries me.”

“Who doesn’t worry about their children,” sighed the grandmother.

The two women sat across from each other and thought silently about all the worries of their lives. The children and the grandchildren. After a long moment the grandmother spoke up, “So why did you summon me here? You know I don’t like to travel. I expect this trip to be worth my time.”

“I assure you it is. It is, of course. Are you doubting me?”

“Heaven forbid I doubt you, my dear. But please get on with it.”

“Don’t you think you should tell me a little about how your grandson is doing these days? What is that old boy up to?”

“Ah, look at you. Always the woman to get the scoop!”

“Haven’t I been forthright with you all these years?”

“I hope so,” she said.

“Tell me what your grandson has been doing?”

The devil’s grandmother took another bite of bread. She chewed slowly, her eyes now on the fire in the fireplace. A few logs were raging, sending out a warmth that began melting the old woman’s soul. She turned to see her old friend. To the old woman’s eyes the Virgin Mary was beautiful. Her long gray hair was thick and her eyes youthful, even with those lines of worry. She couldn’t help but feel comforted in this house. It was a wonderful place to visit. She had been hoping for months that the Virgin Mary would invite her again. Oh how she loved to deny it, but truth be told, she could live here forever, far away from that old dusty place she called home.

“Oh, my grandson,” said the devil’s grandmother. “You wouldn’t believe how tired he’s gotten. He’s shedding. I find his golden hairs all over my kitchen floor. I’ve swept them up and I hide them for safe keeping. He knows nothing about it.”

“What would he do if he found out?”

“I don’t know,” she said her eyes drifting more into the flames. “That boy seems to have lost his way.”

“Is that right? What do you mean?”

“Most night’s he sups alone. He doesn’t touch his meat. All he wants to do is drink wine, but the wine is no good. He drinks it anyway and has the most terrible headaches. The boy doesn’t awake till midday.”

“I believe you’ve been calling him a boy far too long.”

“Once a boy, always.”

“What does he do when he awakes?”

“Oh, he has his church. When he does speak all he talks about is church. Church, church, church. Somedays that’s all he says. He’s a real fine preacher, you know. You should hear him speak.”

The Virgin Mary sat back in her chair and became calm and satisfied with the woman’s answers. How interesting the devil is, thought the Virgin Mary. She wanted to feel a golden hair and hold it and look at it. She thought of her one-legged son. He was a lonely boy but so innocent so willing to do whatever it was he is asked to do. She thought he was being more quiet than usual these days. She wondered if he was up to something, something that had nothing to do with her. She stood and left the room in a hurry.

She came back with a pot of leftover stew. She placed a bowl in front of the devil’s grandmother and ladled it. The old woman opened her eyes wide, the simmering red juices, the meat floating, a half slice of bread left.

“You have blessed me, Virgin Mary!”

“What else did you expect?”

The old woman burned her tongue but was fully satisfied. She moaned with a resounding gratitude throughout the eating. “Oh how wonderful! I feel as though I have been reborn! Thank you my child, thank you!” As she feasted on the stew her old bones filled up and her joints softened and the ache in her neck subsided with the relaxation that comes with nourishing oneself.

The two women discussed their daily routines. The devil’s grandmother’s life was filled with sweeping dusty rooms. The Virgin Mary told her about the walks through the forest. How her and her only son wander and speak to the animals that follow them. She told the devil’s grandmother about milking the goats and keeping the bees.

They walked out back to the bees in the tree. She stuck her hand in the tree and pulled out a honeycomb with honey dripping off, all down her dress, even dripping to the ground. They laughed and licked the sweetness together until the grandmother was stung five or six times. This didn’t upset the old woman for she was used to prickly and venomous things.