YOUR SAD, SAD FRIEND,
RENATA
‘So, what do you think of your room?” Christy asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was her first day back after Aspen, and when she learned Renata had been sleeping in the tiny maid’s room behind the kitchen, she moved her into the guest room. It was at the opposite end of the apartment from the master, so contact between Michael and Renata would be minimized.
“Can’t I stay near the kitchen? I like it there. Yok Wah is nice. She shows me how to cook things. And it’s warm and cozy. Plus it smells good.”
“Renata, we need to keep that open for staff when they stay over. And your new room is so much bigger. Look, you have your own sitting area and TV.”
Renata looked around. Her eyes welled. She didn’t say anything.
“What?” Christy asked. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Renata gestured to the room around her. “It’s just that, it’s all so scratchy and shiny. It’s way too big for me.” She got quiet and looked down. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Christy said.
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s a good room. I’m lucky to have it,” Renata said flatly.
Christy walked over to the child, who was sitting stiffly in the reading chair. She knelt down and took the girl’s hands in hers. “Renata, I was just a little younger than you when I had to go live with my father’s sister for a few months after my mom died. I remember how I hated sleeping in a new room. It felt so strange even though it was nicer than my own bedroom. And my aunt who took me in, I hated her at first. I kept comparing her to my mom, who was gone, and, well, she couldn’t win. You have to give this time, okay? Give us a chance? Please?”
Renata turned her head away from Christy and fought back tears. She stood up abruptly. “I have to go to take a shower—will you excuse me?” Then she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
“The best part about Renata’s Lemon Soap with bleach is that it’s specially formulated so you can use it to wash your hair, your hands, your body, and even moldy bathroom tiles. Let me demonstrate how Renata’s Lemon Soap with bleach cleans this grimy sink.” Renata held the soap bottle up to her face and smiled at the imaginary camera. “I’ll just pour a smidge into the sink like so. A little goes a long way. Now watch me add a touch of water and TA-DAA!! Look how shiny my sink is.” Renata smelled the soap and let out a satisfied “Ahhhhh” for the camera. “It smells like a summer day. And now, for the next five minutes only, you can buy two bottles of Renata’s Lemon Soap for the price of one.”
“What are you doing?” Christy asked. She was standing at the bathroom door, having appeared out of nowhere.
Hasn’t this woman ever heard of knocking? Renata wondered. “Nothing,” she said. Christy didn’t need to know that she was practicing for the Home Shopping Network.
“I see,” Christy said. “Okay, well, I just wanted to tell you that your new nanny will be starting on Monday.”
“I don’t need a nanny,” Renata said, putting her soap into the cabinet.
Christy stood at the door. “Of course you do, sweetheart. Michael and I work all the time. You’re eleven. You have to have adult supervision.”
“Christy,” Renata said (she wasn’t comfortable calling her “mom” yet, not that Christy had even asked), “I’ve gone to and from school by myself since I was six. I do homework and make A’s without nobody’s help. I cook my own dinner and clean my own house. Really, I don’t need a nanny.”
“Renata,” Christy said, “you live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan now. Every kid has a nanny. It’s the law up here. And you don’t need to cook and clean anymore. We have staff that does that.”
“Like Grandma, right? Why don’t you just treat me like who I am, the maid’s kid?”
Christy’s eyes grew large. Her neck and cheeks got splotchy. Renata couldn’t tell if she was mad or hurt, but she was pleased with herself for getting a reaction. She wasn’t sure why.
“Renata,” Christy said evenly, “I loved Maria. She was like a second mother to me.”
“If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have made her work instead of come to my concert.”
Christy bit her lower lip. “Renata, doesn’t the fact that I took you in to live with me tell you that I loved your grandmother? Why else would I do that?”
“That’s okay. I don’t need your charity.” But secretly, Renata wanted to be in Christy and Michael’s family. She was already imagining them eating together, going on vacation, celebrating holidays—family things. But she wanted those things only if they wanted her. This was all very confusing.
“You don’t need my charity? Is that what you think this is? What, would you rather live in the attic and scrub our toilets?”
“That’d be okay.”
Christy looked crushed. “For God’s sake, Renata, can’t you see that I want to do the right thing here? At least meet me halfway. Do you know how hard I worked to get all this? You’ll never have to clean another toilet or wash another dish. Most people would be very happy about that.”
“I like washing dishes,” Renata said primly.
“Aaargh. You’re making me crazy,” Christy said, leaving in a huff.
DEAR DIARY,
I HATE IT HERE. IT’S THE COLDEST, MOST LONELIEST HOUSE EVER. I WISH I COULD TALK TO GRANDMA ONE MORE TIME. BUT I KNOW SHE’D JUST TELL ME TO LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE, LIKE CHIRSTY DOES, ONLY SHE’D SAY IT BETTER. THE ONLY BRIGHT SIDE IS THAT I GET TO LIVE WITH MR. DRUMMOND. I JUST
