“It ha-happened two d-days ago. Nectar and I were coming home from school and there was an ambulance. They were taking her out. She had an oxygen mask on her f-face.”
“That must have frightened you,” Christy said.
“No, I wasn’t afraid. But I knew it was her because Nurse Ratched was right behind all those doctors. Mrs. De Mille saw me and waved for me to come over. She looked so scared.” Renata began sobbing again and could hardly catch her breath.
“I’m sure she was scared,” Christy said, remembering when she saw Maria in much the same condition. She hugged Renata until the girl could speak again.
“She pulled her mask down and said ‘Mr. Koodles.’ I told her not to worry. I’d take care of him for the rest of his life.”
“Good for you.”
“But then Nurse Ratched told me I was in the way and to move. Mrs. De Mille told Nurse Ratched, ‘fuck off.’ Then she looked at me and said, ‘Pardon my Fre-french.’” Renata started wailing again.
Christy rocked her like a baby while she cried.
“Those were her last w-words,” Renata managed to say.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you loved her. Is Mr. Koodles doing okay?” Christy asked.
Renata nodded. Christy handed her a Kleenex. She blew her nose.
“You want breakfast?” Renata suggested weakly.
“I don’t think so. But let me sit with you while you eat some, okay?”
Renata nodded and they trudged into the kitchen together.
A few minutes later, Ali poked her head in. “Hey, why didn’t you invite me?”
“You can join us if you want,” Christy said, hoping her reluctance didn’t show.
Ali grabbed a bowl and pulled up a chair. “What’s the matter with you, Monkey Wart?” she asked Renata, while pouring herself some Cocoa Puffs.
“I’m still upset about Mrs. De Mille,” she said, bursting into tears again. Ali frowned, then walked over to Renata and hugged her. “It’s gonna be okay, really, it is.”
After breakfast, Christy, Renata, and Ali all crawled into Christy’s king-size bed, Renata exhausted from emotion, Ali from pigging out. The girls fell asleep in a cuddle that lasted until noon. As brokenhearted as Christy was about Michael, she felt a comfortable happiness in being back home with Renata and even horrid Ali.
Christy Hayes—New and Improved—Take Two
The next day, Christy walked her grieving daughter to school. Taking Mrs. Smart aside, she let her know what a terrible loss the child had suffered. The teacher promised to call Christy if Renata needed her. Damned if Mrs. Smart didn’t squeeze her hand, letting Christy know that she was now finally making the cut as a parent.
Christy’s cell phone rang as she strolled home. She answered quickly, hoping it was Michael. It was Jerome Fudderman. She sat down on the bench in front of a pastry shop to take the call.
“Exciting news, Christy. I have a spokesperson opportunity that will put you back on the map.”
“Really, and what would I be hawking?”
“Hawking? Nothing. I’m talking first class all the way, just like you, kid, heh-heh-heh.”
“Okay, Jerome, what is it?”
“The Olympic Foundation wants to raise a hundred million dollars to be used to sponsor promising athletes. They’ll fund living expenses so our top competitors can train full time for the Games. They want to give you a chair on the foundation’s board.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“Interesting? It’s fucking fantastic! It’s one of those honorary positions, the kind they only give to classy broads like Audrey Hepburn and Angelina Jolie. It’s high status, not too much work. But they also want to talk to you about starting a mentoring program for young athletes. You know, matching past winners with the kids coming up the ranks. That might take more time.”
“That sounds like something I’d like to do. I would have loved to have an experienced athlete to guide me when I was competing.”
“There’s a fee, of course, but I told them you’d probably want to donate the money back to the foundation.”
“I wish…Jerome. I may need it.”
“Really? Well, it’s yours if you want it. You’re back, baby!”
“Thanks to you, Jerome. You’re a genius,” she said weakly.
“I can’t argue with you on that. So, you’ll take the meeting with the foundation president?”
“Of course.” Christy realized this would be a much better use of her time than going to power-girl salons, attending charity luncheons, or taking orders from Brownie. In fact, this possibility made her feel like she might actually have a life again.
Who’s That Knocking at My Door?
When Christy got home, she noticed an old Volkswagen van parked right out front, in the loading zone. It was dirty, orange and beat-up, like Scooby-Doo’s van. You sure don’t see many of those anymore, she thought. Walking inside, she spied a man holding a tiny white goat, a dark-skinned lady who was quite a bit older than Christy, and a twentyish woman holding an Apple PowerBook and the hand of a five-year-old girl, all standing across from the concierge desk. Wow, Christy thought, what’s happening to our building? Beat-up cars in front, a goat in the lobby? What’s next?
“Thank goodness you’re home, Mrs. Hayes. These people are here to see you,” Tony said.
“But I don’t know them,” she said.
“They’re asking for you.”
“Who are they?” she whispered.
“Renata’s family. From Mexico.”
“What? Renata doesn’t have family.”
“Tell them that.”
Christy walked over to the motley family to introduce herself. “Hola, me llamo Christy Hayes.”
“Hello,” the old man said in a Mexican accent. “I’m Jorge Ruiz, Maria Ruiz’s brother. This is our big sister, Maria, her daughter, Maria, and her daughter’s child, Maria.”
This cannot be good, Christy thought. What she said instead was “I’ve never met one family with so many Marias.”
“It’s a tradition for us. Can we go upstairs, Mrs. Hayes? We need to talk.”
“Of course.”
As they got into the elevator, Tony
