LAST NIGHT, I TOLD HER A SECRET THAT I MADE HER PROMISE NOT TO TELL. I TOLD HER HOW THE DOORMEN MAKE ME USE THE SERVICE ELAVATOR. BUT I EXPLAINED THAT I DIDN’T MIND BECAUSE THE MAIDS AND BUTLERS ARE MY PEOPLE. THEN CHRISTY (THE LIAR) BROKE HER WORD AND MADE ME GO DOWNSTAIRS WITH HER WHILE SHE BALLED OUT ANTONIO THE DOORMAN.
I WAS SO IMBARASED. TONY SAID IT WAS AN HONEST MISTAKE. CHRISTY’S WHITE AND I’M BROWN. WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO THINK? THAT MADE CHRISTY EVEN MADDER. NOW THE DOORMEN WILL HATE ME FOREVER.
I’M STUCK IN A FANCY GUEST ROOM WITH HARD PILLOWS AND NOT ONE STUFFED ANIMAL. CHRISTY SAYS I HAVE TO GET A NANNY EVEN THOUGH I DON’T NEED ONE. MAKING IT ALL WORSE, THEY ONLY EAT HEALTHY ASHIAN FOOD HERE. THERE’S NO FROOT LOOPS, NO MACARONI AND CHEESE, NO SHAKE AND BAKE AND NO FROZEN VEGETABLES. I WILL NEVER NEVER NEVER LIKE FRESH VEGETABLES NO MATTER HOW LONG I LIVE.
YOURS FOREVER,
RENATA E. RUIZ
Thanks for the Memories
On Tuesday morning, Renata stepped inside her old apartment for the first time since the night she and Christy picked out Grandma’s burial outfit. Christy had voted for her green church suit, but Renata insisted on the pink satin robe from Macy’s. “It’s what Grandma would have wanted to wear,” she said. So Maria Ruiz was laid to rest in her pajamas and robe, covered by her granddaughter’s Mary-Kate and Ashley quilt. At the church, Renata slipped her fifth-grade picture into the casket.
Renata scurried over to the kitchen as soon as they walked inside. She turned on the water and started washing dishes.
“Renata, what are you doing?” Christy asked.
“Dishes,” she said. “This house is a mess.”
“Renata, we’re here so you can pack your things and show me what you want to take. Someone else’ll clean up.” Christy looked at her watch. “I only have an hour.” Then she looked at Renata and softened. “Tell you what, I’ll pack your clothes. Why don’t you put a yellow sticky on anything you want to keep. Here, take these.”
Silently, Renata took the Post-its. She hated the way Christy always acted like she was trying to be helpful. That was all it was—acting. And always in a hurry. Like she was the most important person in the whole world. She took the pad of stickies and glanced around. The entire apartment was tinier than her new bedroom. Funny, it didn’t used to be this small. Grandma’s reading glasses were sitting on top of a two-week-old Star on the brown table next to the couch. Renata picked them up and stuffed them in her pocket. She opened Grandma’s sweater drawer and touched her cranberry cardigan. Renata brought it to her face and took a deep breath, smelling Grandma in the sweater. She put it on. Looking around the room, she tried to commit the place to memory. On top of the bookshelf was the picture of Grandma and her in the wooden frame with hearts. Renata picked that up. She walked to the bed, reached under her mattress, and rescued the picture of her mother wearing the white confirmation dress. Then she snatched her pillow. She hadn’t been sleeping since she moved to Christy’s. Maybe this would help. The last thing Renata took was Maria’s vanity mirror, the one she used as a camera when she practiced being on television.
As Christy packed Renata’s clothes into a torn plaid suitcase, she glanced around the apartment. Her eyes welled and she repositioned herself to face the wall.
“I’m done,” Renata said.
Christy glanced up and saw Renata standing in front of her, wearing a big sweater, holding a pillow, a mirror, and a framed picture. “That’s it? That’s all you want?”
“It’d be nice to have the couch if that’s not asking too much.”
“It won’t match anything in your room,” Christy said.
“Yes, but it’s very useful. It folds out into a bed. Guests can sleep in it,” Renata explained. “It was Grandma’s.”
“Ah,” Christy said. “So it reminds you of Maria. You know, I have a chair in my room that used to belong to my dad. Even though it’s old-fashioned and worn-out, I’d never give it up because it makes me think of him when I sit in it.”
Renata stared at the couch, showing no emotion. If Christy thinks she can make me like her just because we’re both partial to the furniture of the dead people we loved, she’s barking up the wrong street, she thought. It’ll take way more than that.
“Sure, bring it,” Christy said.
Renata walked over and placed a yellow sticky on the piece. It fell right off. She put it on again, this time on the arm, where it stayed put. “If you want, I’ll let you put it in the living room,” she said.
“I think you should keep it, honey. We’ll have someone pick it up later,” Christy promised. “C’mon, we’d better go. Your new nanny’s coming to meet you.”
“I don’t need a nanny.”
Christy ignored the comment as they walked out of the apartment. Turning off the light, she gave the place one last look. “’Bye, Maria,” she said.
Renata ran ahead and jumped into the car.
“That was fast,” Steven said.
“Christy’s in a hurry. As usual,” she mumbled.
“Do you want some music?” he asked.
“Sure,” Renata said. Steven turned the radio to a station that played really bad grown-up music. There was no accounting for taste, that’s what Grandma used to say. Still, Renata liked Steven. He brought Toll House cookies that his wife baked especially for her. He drove her to school every day. Soon, Renata and her nanny would have their own driver, Christy explained. But for now, she could be with Steven. Christy’s maid had put Renata’s hair up for the funeral last week. Her masseuse gave Renata
