by L. W. Clark
I stayed quiet. I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. He talked so fast it took me a while to catch up. By the time I thought of what to say, the moment had passed. So, I just smiled.
He was one of those people where you could just relax and listen since he would always find something to say. There wasn’t any awkward silence between conversations because he was never silent. He had a reservation and the host seemed to know him. I followed them and we sat down at a small square table, face to face.
“I’m so glad you made it,” he said.
I smiled again.
I made it? What did I make? He said he was glad so at least he’s happy with whatever I made.
The waiter came to our table and handed each of us a large menu.
“Would you like something to drink?” Jeff asked me.
Now this I understand. Thank you, Vogue.
“Sure, I’ll have an apple martini please.”
“That sounds good. And I’ll have a vodka martini, very dry please.”
“Excellent,” the waiter said as he disappeared.
Everything seems so different here. I like this restaurant. Look at all these well-dressed people, chatting away. I feel happy and calm, like happy butterflies. So far so good. I’m doing good.
“You look very beautiful,” he said to me as he stared at me.
This staring thing. I don’t know what to do.
“Thank you,” I said.
I put my head down to look at the menu and pretended I was reading.
Like I have a clue what this stuff is on the menu.
“So, you like martinis huh?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, sometimes.”
“Why an apple martini?”
Just then the waiter interrupted our conversation.
“Excuse me. Unfortunately, we don’t have apple martinis available at the moment.”
Thank God. The waiter saved me from answering the question.
“Would you like something else?” the waiter asked.
I paused. I tried to remember another popular cocktail I read about many times in Vogue. I struggled. Now I had two men staring at me instead of one. I felt like I was in a police interrogation. I looked at Jeff. I looked at the waiter. Then I looked at Jeff again, then the waiter again.
They’re no help. Wait. Ah, yes!
“A cosmopolitan please,” I said with a smile.
“Great. I’ll be right back.”
“Let’s look at the menu while we wait for the drinks,” Jeff said.
“Sure, let’s look at the menu,” I repeated.
I looked and looked, from the top to the bottom and back again. I really was just looking. I certainly wasn’t reading. I tried to find something familiar that I could order. I had no idea what the dishes were. I guessed there were a lot of seafood choices, but the names weren’t familiar.
“I think I know what I’m going to order,” he said. “It looks like you’re still deciding?”
“Yes, still looking.”
“Take your time. They have great appetizers too.”
I wish the dishes were served family style. It’s much easier. Everything’s on the table and everyone can try whatever they want. I don’t know what to choose.
“Do you like octopus?” he asked. “It’s great here. Or maybe tuna tartar? It’s also really good.”
All those names sounded the same to me. I’m clueless.
“Tuna tartar,” I said, just repeating him.
“Great. You’ll like it,” Jeff said. “What about the entrée?”
“Here’s your cosmopolitan, and your dry martini sir.”
Perfect timing for the waiter to show up again. Now I have more time to think about what to order.
“Cheers,” Jeff said.
“Cheers.”
We raised the glasses and I tried a cosmopolitan martini for the first time in my life.“How’s your drink?” Jeff asked.
“It’s very good. It’s just how I like them.”
As if I know.
“What are you going to order?” I asked. “Do you have some favorites?”
Maybe I can figure out what to have from his favorites.
“Yes, I do. I have a few. Tonight I’m thinking of the pasta with …”
“Are you folks ready to order?”
Damn. So much for the waiter’s good timing.
“Yes, I think we are. Are we?” Jeff asked, looking at me.
“Yes,” I said.
Jeff ordered the appetizers.
“What would you like as an entrée miss?” the waiter asked.
I looked up and they were both staring at me—again. I was out of time. I looked at the first entrée choice on the menu. Seafood casserole. The words were familiar. I now knew seafood was fish. And casserole? I think I know what that means. Maybe I can say it right.
“Seafood casserole please,” I said, pointing to the menu, just to make sure.
“Very good,” said the waiter. “And you sir?”
“I’ll have the seafood pasta.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Jeff watched the waiter leave and then turned to me.
“I have to say, you’re an interesting girl. You like martinis and seafood. You must like mussels as well?”
“Yes, I do. Mussels are one of my favorites.’
What are mussels?
“That shows quality,” he smiled. “You have beautiful eyes. And I like your dress. The color matches your eyes.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at my hands.
“Please stop me if I’m going too far giving you compliments so soon. I just couldn’t help myself.”
Where did he go too far? He’s right here. I understand he likes my eyes and dress though. That’s nice.
“I like compliments,” I said with a smile. “I always take them. Thanks for mentioning my dress. I like it too. This is one of my favorite Prada dresses.”
“Ahh … you’re a fashion girl. You like shopping?”
“Yes, I do, but not for just anything. Only the good things.”
“I do like that designer,” Jeff said. “I like Prada suits. Maybe one day you can come with me and help choose a nice suit and tie.”
Selfish guy.
“What do you do here in New York?” he asked.
“Right now, I’m just studying English.”
“That’s fantastic. It seems like it’s going well, based on what I hear. Is that why you moved here?”
“Yes, I wanted to learn English and put it in practice, so I decided to move here.”
“That’s great, and I completely agree with you. Being good at anything requires a lot of practice. Do you work as well?”
“No, I just go to school.”
He looks like he’s wondering how that’s possible.
“I come from a wealthy family,” I said. “I get an allowance, so I don’t have to work.”
I don’t want to get into my story right now. I feel like acting wealthy tonight.
His eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Oh, I see. Wow, that’s great,” he said.
“What about you Jeff?”
“Well, I’m not as lucky as you are. I still have to work. I’m a lawyer.”
“You’re a lawyer? That’s an impressive job. Do you do trials?”
“Not so much,” he said. “I have my own firm. I mainly work for corporations.”
I don’t know what that’s about, but he does seem like a smart guy.
“You look like a lawyer,” I said.
He laughed.
“I guess that’s a good thing? You’ve made me smile a few times. I like that.”
“Pardon me,” said the waiter. “Here are your appetizers.”
We finished the appetizers as we continued to talk. It was the first time I had tuna tartar. Now it’s one of my favorites. Then the entrées arrived. My seafood casserole looked colorful, and confusing.
I have no idea what I ordered. It looks lik
e soup but the things floating around are making me nervous. I don’t know how to eat it, especially looking at these half-opened shells. I can’t eat the shells. That much I know. I’ll just eat what’s on the inside. How the hell do I eat these things? Do I pick up the shells and eat them? Or do I leave them in the soup? What’s in Jeff’s pasta? He has the same black shells with white small meat that I have. Great. I’ll watch him.
“Bon Appetit,” Jeff said.
“Bon Appetit.”
I ate slowly. I tried the liquid and the other pieces of fish. I didn’t touch the shells. I was waiting for Jeff to eat them.
“How’s your dish?” he asked. “Did you try your favorite? The mussels?”
Ah … those are mussels.
“Not yet. I always save them for last,” I said.
He’s finally trying the mussels. Mystery solved. Pick up the shell, take out the meat with the fork and eat it. Simple enough.
The cosmopolitan drink gave me a nice buzz. I became relaxed and chatty.
“Would you like another martini?” Jeff asked. “I’m having another.”
“No, thank you. I’d like an espresso though.”
“Sure. Do you like this place?”
“Yes, it’s very nice. The food was so delicious. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I’ve enjoyed your company more than the place or the food.”
“Thanks. You’re very kind.”
I sipped my espresso as he told me about the places he liked to go to. He’s lived in NYC for a long time, and he travels a lot. He likes sports, movies and music. He was talking a lot. I liked listening to him and learning new things.
I just wish I could understand him better. I’m only catching a few words here and there.
“You know,” he said. “I was watching you. Your manners and etiquette are impressive.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“It’s just the way you sit and eat. You’re a girl with great manners. It makes sense that you’re from a wealthy and classy family.”
“Thank you.”
I didn’t do anything special. Doesn’t everybody know how to sit and use the silverware properly? Except for mussels maybe.
“I’m going upstate to Hyde Park next weekend to visit some friends. Would you like to come with me? It’s a very nice town with some great restaurants.”
“Next weekend? Maybe,” I said. “I have some plans, but…”
“Please change your plans. Please come.”
NINETEEN
April 1997, Long Island
“Kalian is sick,” Anna announced when I stepped into the house after my day off. “I need your help. Can you do Kalian’s job until she gets better? Please? The kids love you and I trust you. I know you’ll be fine. You can do less housework, and don’t worry about dinner. I’ll order something. I have to go now. I’m already running late.”
She didn’t even pause to take a breath. She handed Aaron to me, grabbed her handbag and went out the door.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it!” she yelled as she disappeared.
I just stood in the hallway, dazed and confused. The housekeeping job was pretty hard physically, but the babysitting was a nightmare. Then I heard Jessica’s operatic voice.
This girl Jessica. What am I going to do with her? She can really get on your nerves and drive you crazy. I saw it many times. Two children and no Kalian? It’s one thing taking care of them with the parents in the house or watching them as they slept while in the city. Taking care of them alone during the day? I’m not prepared for this. I don’t know how to feed one while playing with the other. Or how to prepare a meal while holding a baby in my arms. What do you do with the kids when you need to go to the bathroom? You can’t leave them alone. Do you take them with you?
I took them both with me. I didn’t care as long as they both were with me and safe. Since the bathroom was the size of a New York City studio apartment there was plenty of room. I used the master bathroom. I didn’t even care if there was a camera hidden somewhere.
Soon I got tired just from constantly focusing on them. Jessica was smart. Without Kalian taking care of them, she knew the routine would be different. Kalian knew how to say no and how to stop her bad behavior. Now Jessica could act wild and stubborn. Every time I’d say no to her she would cry hysterically. Why my “no” was unacceptable and Kalian’s “no” was OK was beyond me.
I was told Jessica couldn’t have any cookies during the day, and especially before dinner. Like all kids she loved sweets and her mother was worried about it. But Jessica wanted sweets and she knew where they were. She would head towards that food closet and try to open the door, but it was locked.
“No, Jessica,” I’d say nicely as I took her hand to take her to another room. “You can’t have cookies now.”
“Yes, I want cookies,” she’d respond. “I want cookies, I want cookies.”
She kept repeating the words, probably thinking if she said them enough I’d give in or the door would magically open. She would go on non-stop until she became frustrated, and then she started screaming and crying.
I tried other ways to entertain her. I played with her. I sang with her. I watched cartoons with her, but nothing helped. She would get distracted for a few minutes but soon she was running to the food closet, banging and kicking at the door. All the drama and noise would trigger Aaron’s crying. Then I’d be chasing Jessica while holding and trying to console the baby.
Aaron was easier to take care of. At least he couldn’t run around. But he pooped, a lot. I was constantly changing his diapers. I couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes I’d even ignore his dirty diaper until the next poop. But then he’d start crying and I’d feel bad for him. One time I changed his diaper, put it aside, and Jessica grabbed it and ran down the hallway.
“Jessica, stop!” I yelled. “Come back here. Please don’t run. Please put that in the garbage.”
She was giggling and running, poopy diaper in hand, until she slipped on the floor. Now I heard crying instead of giggling. I grabbed Aaron to find Jessica, and there she was. Her light reddish hair covered in greenish baby poop. It was also on her face and all over the floor. A literal shitstorm.
Good Jessica, very good. You deserve it. See what happens when you don’t listen?
I reached down for her and helped her up. She was crying as if she was so innocent. She stunk. She begged for a shower. She was the most humbled Jessica I ever saw.
By the end of the day I thought I was going crazy. I was praying to see Kalian the next morning, or the next, or the next. But I didn’t see her for two weeks. It was hard work, and after all of that, I decided I didn’t want to get married or have any children. That was my attitude when I stepped out of that house on my way to Brooklyn for my first day off in more than two weeks.
I got my Vogue magazine before getting on the train. I was way behind in my reading. I sat down on the train, took a deep breath and opened my private world of fashion and the good life, when a mother and her daughter about six years old sat next to me. This girl never stopped talking to her mother. It was getting on my nerves.
Why? Why is the universe doing this to me? Why now? I just got released from crazy kindergarten and now this girl has to sit right next to me and talk nonstop nonsense? This mother is even worse. She’s so loud. Does she really think everyone on this train enjoys hearing her daughter’s childish stories and dopey questions? Look at her. She’s even looking at me so proudly, like, isn’t my daughter special? Isn’t she so adorable? No, not really. Some parents think everyone loves their children as much as they do. It’s just not true. I’m so distracted by them that I can’t focus on my reading. Am I getting punished by the universe because I said I don’t want to have any children? Maybe so, but this certainly isn’t helping to convince me I should be a parent.
I stopped by the supermarket for some food and went to the apartment to lay down until Silvia came home. It was late Sunday night. I never returned Jeff�
��s phone call after he left me a message on Silvia’s answering machine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him again and continue lying. With Jeff it was just a date. I wanted to be a girl having a nice dinner with a good guy; that’s all. The restaurant and atmosphere were perfect, and I just wanted to be there and forget about all my hard work and tight money for a little while. Just a few hours being the girl I wished to be. When we left the restaurant Jeff offered to get me a car service but I said no. I told him I get car sick and since I had a drink, I preferred to take the subway.
Sometimes I believe in my dreams. When I was acting out my dream with Jeff, I believed it was all so true, until I looked down at my pair of shoes on the subway on the way home. They still looked nice, but I knew they were old. I knew I was going back to a small, dark Brooklyn apartment, and not as a wealthy girl. Welcome to reality.
I was asleep when Silvia stepped into the apartment. She got home earlier than usual.
“Hey, since I’m home early tonight let’s go out,” she said. “Let’s go to a bar. Maybe I’ll meet some American like you did.”
I’m exhausted. All I want to do is sleep. I can’t even move from the bed.
“Silvia, can you believe Kalian got sick and I worked two weeks straight, with two kids? I had almost no experience but I handled it. At least the kids were good when I left them,” I said, laughing.
“Really? They’re not supposed to do that. That’s so wrong. Working that many hours and days without a break? I hope they paid you extra so we can go out tonight.”
“OK, you’re right. I can always sleep later. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going? Do you know any nice places?” she asked as we approached the subway.
“You’re asking me? I thought you already had a place in mind. You’re the one who wants to go out.”
“True, but I don’t know many places in Manhattan. You’re the one who goes there every other week with all your Vogue research,” she smiled.
“I’ve never been in the places I read about. But I do know where they are, so let’s check them out.”
We went to a nightclub. We couldn’t get in because Silvia didn’t bring her ID. We walked a few blocks and found a bar and diner called The Coffee Shop. We went inside and sat at the bar. The place was pretty empty. It was around 2 a.m. I ordered a gin and tonic and she ordered a beer.