Ruby-Colored Gems

When they returned home, Sra. Vasquez was already busy preparing dinner. Fish and rice boiled on the stove. A pile of papayas sat in the sink, freshly washed. Paolo inhaled deeply as he leaned over the stove.
“Would you please help me with dinner?” asked his mother.
“What do you need?”
“I’m going to cut the papayas in half, but it would be a great help to me if you scoop out the seeds.”
“No problemo,” replied Paolo. He grabbed a spoon as his mother halved the papaya. Their outer skin and inner flesh were bright orange, but their seeds were as red as raspberries.
Paolo cleaned every papaya, piling the seeds on a paper towel. He rinsed the sticky juice off his hands when he finished.
“Is there anything else?” he asked his mother.
“Maybe later. Your father looks like he needs some help, though.”
Paolo bundled the seeds in his towel and went outside. He joined his father in the garden between the Vasquez and Tagubase houses. Sr. Vasquez knelt next to the burlap bag and sliced it open with his pocketknife. Seeds poured onto the sidewalk between them.
“Papi, why did you bring home a garden hose? You don’t need water to plant birdseed.”
“I’m not planting birdseed,” chuckled Sr. Vasquez, “I’m going to build a birdbath.”
Paolo helped his father spread the birdseed on the ground. He helped with the birdbath, too. Paolo and his father used garden trowels to dig a small hole in the garden. Sr. Vasquez carefully patted the bottom of the hole and lined it with a plastic mat.
“What’s that for?”
“To keep the water from spilling out. Can you fetch us some stones so we can keep it in place.”
Paolo ran to the edge of the cliff. He pried some rocks loose from the edge and brought them back to his father. Sr. Vasquez arranged the stones in a circle around the edge of the mat while Paolo gathered them from the ledge.
“Now help me pack them with mud.”
Sr. Vasquez attached the garden hose to the spigot and turned on the water. He sprayed the mound of dirt until it became soppy wet. Paolo molded gobs of mud around the rocks. The mud held the rocks in place, much like mortar held bricks. Sr. Vasquez then filled the hole with water.
“That will be just perfect,” said Sr. Vasquez.
“I almost forgot these,” said Paolo. He unfolded the paper towel, revealing a pile of bright red seeds.
“Do birds like papaya seeds?”
“Birds like all kinds of seeds.”
Paolo spread them on the ground.
“What now?” he asked his father.
“Hold out your hands.”
Sr. Vasquez washed the mud off their hands and feet before going inside. Caprina and Pilar were in the living room with their mother, watching television.
“Where have you been?” asked Caprina.
“We were growing birds,” said Paolo.
“Don’t be silly,” said Caprina.
“We just planted the seeds,” added father.
“Speaking of seeds, I need someone to do me a favor,” said Sra. Vasquez.
“What is it, mama?” asked Paolo.
“Please go pick me some hairfruit from one of the Achiote trees.”
Paolo returned to the backyard, where a row of Achiote trees sat at the edge of the cliff. The trees had small, gnarled branches and stood about eight feet tall. To Paolo, they looked more like big shrubs than small trees. Paolo wasn’t sure how many hairfruit he needed, so he grabbed a cluster of fruit and twisted the stem until it broke. He wiped his hands on his shirt and returned to the living room.
“Here you go,”
“Pato! What on earth did you do to your shirt?” exclaimed his mother.
Paolo looked down at the red stains across his tummy.
“Change out of that shirt immediately and wash your hands. I’ll need to soak that in detergent before I put it into the wash.”
Paolo did as she demanded. Sra. Vasquez took the stems to the kitchen and carefully worked with the hairfruit. The hairfruit weren’t like most other fruit. They were more like peapods, only they were shaped like plums and bright red. Their skin was covered with bright red hairs. When mother cracked each seed pod open, a handful of seeds fell onto the counter.
She filled a bowl with water, setting it beside her work. Then, she gathered the seeds and dropped them into the water. Juices from the hairfruit spread through the water, coloring it deep red.
“Here’s my shirt,” said Paolo.
“Fill the bathroom sink with warm water and soak your shirt just like this,” Paolo’s mother said.
“What are you doing with that hairfruit juice?”
Sra. Vasquez strained the red juice into a bowl of rice.
“I’m using it to color the rice for Arroz con Pollo. Now go do what I said before the stain sets and I have to throw the shirt in the trash.”
Paolo placed the shirt in the bottom of the sink and filled the sink with water and detergent. As he stirred the water with his hands, it turned light pink. He stirred it a bit more and left it to soak.
With Pilar's help, Sra. Vasquez prepared dinner. Pilar fried the pollo (also known as chicken) in a pan. Meanwhile, mother prepared the rest of the ingredients. She made a stir-fry of onions and peppers, both red and green. After the vegetables softened, she dumped the ingredients into a deep dish. She added the chicken and the red-orange rice and placed the deep dish in the oven.
The Arroz con Pollo baked for another hour until it was ready.
“Todos venga y comemos!” called Sra. Vasquez. It was time for everyone to come and eat.
They gathered around the dinner table as they almost always did – a family of five gathered for the most important meal of the day.
Sr. Vasquez led the family in the Lord’s Prayer. After the prayer, everyone passed their plates around the table. Sr. Vasquez ladled out large portions of chicken and rice for everyone, including Paolo.
“Why isn’t the rice dark red like the stain on my shirt?”
“I would suppose it has to do with diffusion,” said Papi.
“What is that?”
“Diffusion just means spreading out – like when a sea breeze comes in through the kitchen window. It cools the kitchen first, then spreads through the house, cooling the entire house, room-by-room.”
“That doesn’t explain orange rice,” said Paolo.
“As the juice mixes with the water in the rice, it becomes lighter. The fibers in the shirt, on the other hand, don’t diffuse the stain. That’s why it remains red.”
“Some old ladies even use the berries as lipstick.”
“So that’s why some people call it the lipstick tree?”
His mother nodded.
“Let me try some,” said Caprina.
“There’s some hairfruit on the counter.”
Caprina cracked open a seed pod and sucked on one of the seeds. Before long, her lips and tongue were as red as rubies. The ends of her fingers were stained red, too.
“Let me try,” said Papi.
He chewed a seed and his lips were as red as Caprina’s. He passed the seedpod around the table. Everyone except mother took a seed. They chewed until their lips were red. They made faces and laughed. Sr. Vasquez leaned over and attempted to kiss Sra. Vasquez.
“Oh no you don’t.”
“Come on, give Papi just one kiss.” He gave a frightful smile. To Paolo, he looked like a creature atop an old Mayan totem pole.
“Enough of this nonsense,” said mother. She took her dishes to the sink as she cleared the table. She left her husband and children at the table as they snorted and laughed.
After dinner, Paolo went to the bathroom, but forgot about his stained shirt. He wrung it out before he washed his face. No amount of soap and water would remove the bright red stains from the seeds. When he went out to the living room, he noticed everyone else was stuck with bright red lips. Everyone except Sra. Vasquez, that is.
“You all look like circus clowns,” chuckled mother.
“I think you look very boring,” said Caprina.
“I guess I’ll have to be the boring one, then,” said mother. She went out to the kitchen and finished putting dishes away. When she returned, she leaned down and kissed her husband.
“Ay! Me amo!” said Papi. He grabbed Sra. Vasquez by the shoulders and gave her a passionate kiss. When she came up for air, all the children laughed. Her lips were as red as anyone else.
“I guess I felt left out,” said mother with a shrug. Everyone had a good laugh before it was time for bed. Paolo brushed his teeth and tongue and rubbed a washcloth briskly against his lips. A little bit of the stain came off on the washcloth.“Diffusion,” Paolo thought to himself. He rinsed out the washcloth and went to bed. Bright red seeds left their mark, both inside and out. It was okay with Paolo, though. The seeds were responsible for good food and good fun, too.