by Dyan Sheldon
For a joke, I went to work in the dress Gus bought when she was maid of honour at our cousin’s wedding. It’s pink and long and makes me think of birthday cakes and koi ponds (birthday cakes because it’s pink and frilly, and koi ponds because that’s what Gus pushed the best man into when he made a pass at her). Ely thought the dress was hilarious. I’ve never seen him laugh so much. Some people stopped just because they saw me bagging potatoes in my prom-queen dress and fluttering my fan and wanted to know what was going on. Ely says that we should have one day a week when we both dress up. We could have themes. He figures it’d be good for business. The Countess said I added a touch of class to the stand. (And I quote: “If the Czarina was forced to sell vegetables, she’d dress for the occasion.”) Green Pick-up Guy says he’s going to call me Scarlett from now on.
After Gus left on her date tonight, I found my dad standing in the living room staring out of the window like there was something out there besides the Masiados’ house and the road. I said don’t tell me that spaceship’s back. He wanted to know if it was Zak or Elroy with Gus. I said it was Abe Zimmerman. He said, “Who?” I reminded him that she dated Abe for a while when she was in high school. He’s the one who backed into the mailbox. My dad said, “He’s got a new car.” I said, “Fair’s fair. We got a new mailbox.”
Nomi says if she wasn’t going out with Jax she thinks she’d be interested in Ely. I said, “Ely who?” She wanted to know how many Elys I know exactly. I said do you mean Ely Weimer? From the farm? He’s nearly seven feet tall and he plays the ukulele (it’s a sight). Though he is an excellent juggler. She said she thought I liked him. I said I do like him. Ely’s great. He brings laughter to the world of fruit and vegetables. Selling tomatoes wouldn’t be the same without him. But I never think of him like that. You know, like he’s a boy. Not one I might want to kiss or share a fork with or anything. Nomi said, “Well, I do.” I was astounded. I thought she was so into Jax that she never looked at other boys. (Or if she did they might as well be turnips.) Nomi went all Nomi, slapping her forehead and moaning. She said she didn’t realize that because she’s going out with Jax she was supposed to go around with a blindfold on and never think that any other boy was cute or nice. I said I thought that when you’re into one guy you can’t even think about anybody else. Nomi said I have a lot to learn about relationships. Gee, I wonder why that is. She said, “No, really, Hildy. Sometimes I worry about you.” (And I don’t?) Nomi said it’s as if I got everything I know about the boy-girl thing from songs and movies. I said well I obviously didn’t get it from real life, did I? Since I’ve never had a boyfriend. I wonder if I ever will. I think I’m under a curse. The Hildy D’Angelo Dating Curse.
Lebanon Road Movie Club Night. It was Louie’s turn to pick. Thank God. If it’s Louie’s choice it’s something old and interesting. Jax and Kruger (and Max when he’s here and not sitting around a campfire singing “Kumbaya”) always pick war movies, horror movies, thrillers or thrillers set during a war with an element of horror. I usually make cookies, but it’s so hot the thought of turning on the oven made me feel faint. Brought chips instead. Maggie brought Grady again. They held hands through the whole show. When they left, Grady thanked Mr and Mrs Masiado for their hospitality. Mrs Masiado wanted to know if he has a sister for Louie.
I’ve noticed quite a few women carrying fans. Really. Nomi says that means we’re trendsetters. How awesome is that? Usually I don’t even know there’s a trend going on till it’s just about over. Will being a trendsetter make me more attractive to boys, or less? I think it could make me more attractive to some boys – the cutting-edge, first-to-have-a-tattoo-or-a-piercing type – and less attractive to others – the regular kind my parents would approve of. But since I’m not attractive to anyone, I guess it doesn’t really make any difference. Nonetheless, I do think Mrs Gorrie should give us commission.
One of Lenora’s friends threw the cat into the Palacios’ pool to see if it could swim. (It could swim, but it wasn’t happy about it.) Mrs Palacio loves that cat. She always says it’s the only member of the family who never gives her a hard time. (Which is true from what I’ve seen.) Anyway, eyewitnesses (Cristina and her cousin) say that when she heard the howls, Mrs P came charging out of the house like cavalry charging out of a fort in an old Western. Only not on a horse, but on four-inch heels. She went straight into the pool too. Mrs P and Dolittle were both so traumatized by this experience that Lenora and her friends are banned from the pool until further notice. So tonight we all went over there to hang out. I think Louie was hoping Mrs Palacio and Dolittle would fall in again because he brought his camera, but if he thought he was going to make a series of summer disasters he was out of luck. Dolittle’s not allowed anywhere near the pool without his new life jacket on. It’s bright pink. He looks like a chunk of bubblegum with feet. Mrs P admired our fans. She said they reminded her of Old Mexico. I said I’d tell Mrs Gorrie. It’ll make her year. Cristina insisted that we all act like we were having the best time since swimming pools were invented so her sister would be jealous. So we laughed and shrieked and splashed around like we were advertising fun. Until Mr Palacio (who has the personality of a dictator troll) came out huffing and puffing and told us to “simmer down” or none of us were going to be allowed near the pool until they hold the Winter Olympics on the Sahara. Turned out that Lenora wasn’t even home. Of course.
Zelda put all of her dinosaurs in the washing machine this morning (that’s 176, if you’re counting). She flooded the kitchen. Mom asked her why she did that. Zelda said because they were dirty. And after everything was mopped up and Mom got all the dinosaurs out, there was one sodden, mutilated thing left at the bottom of the machine. That would be my fan. Zelda washed my Scarlett O’Hara fan. She said she washed it because it was dirty, too. I said it was not dirty. How could it be? I’ve only had it a few days. She said it was after it fell in the toilet. So this is my life: a teenage old maid who sleeps in the pantry and can’t even call a paper fan her own. I know it could be a lot worse. But it could also be a lot better.
Louie’s parents are going to be married forty years in August. I started working on a set of mugs for them today. I’m making them with lids because Mr Masiado always complains that if he leaves his coffee for two minutes it’s full of dog hairs, and Mrs Masiado always complains that by the time she gets to drink her coffee it’s cold. Forty years! It boggles the mind. You’d think they’d have run out of things to say to each other by now. Or that they’d get tired of looking at each other the way you get tired of having cornflakes for breakfast every day. But they haven’t and they’re not. They’re like the poster couple for True Love (even if they look more like the poster couple for Elastic Waistbands). Mr Masiado says Louie was an afterthought. As in, “After Loretta and I were happily married for 23 years we thought that what we needed was Louie to drive us nuts.” (This is the one drawback I can see to being an only child. All the responsibility for making your parents happy lands on YOU. Whereas you can make my parents happy by doing nothing. And it’s no big deal if you disappoint them, because there are three of us so they’re used to it.) Louie’s present to his folks is going to be a movie of them from their wedding day till now. (Which means there’ll be 23 years of them smiling and 17 of them looking like they’re waiting for the boiler to blow up.) August is still a way off, but it’s been in the preparation stages for months. (Just having their home movies digitized took longer than the life cycle of a tomato.) Louie’s really well organized for someone who’s so eccentric. Now he’s moving onto the production stage. He’s got a lot of new footage that he’s been secretly taking since January that he’s going to mix in with the other 39-and-a-half years of recorded family history. So since Nomi was out with Jax, Maggie was out with Grady, Sara had band practice and Cristina was waiting for Max to call, I went over tonight to help him work on it. It’s going to be really, really good. It has everything: humour, passion, drama, pathos, dogs – and Mr and Mrs Masiado dressed u
p for a masquerade party as Marge and Homer Simpson. Maybe Louie is a genius.
I had this really good idea while Louie and I were watching a clip of Mr and Mrs Masiado learning to tango (she kept leading him into stationary objects and then he dropped her, but they both kept right on laughing). If by the time Louie and I are 40 neither of us has found our soulmate, I think we should marry each other. There wouldn’t be any sex or anything, just companionship and someone else to pay half the bills. It makes sense. We’ve known each other for ever. We really really like each other. We make each other laugh. We have a gazillion things in common. And there’s no one I trust more. Not even the D’Angelos. Maybe I should say especially not the D’Angelos. Let’s not forget the time we went camping and I went to the bathroom and when I came back they’d all locked themselves in the car because they saw a bear. (You notice how nobody’s first instinct was to warn me!) But I know that if I was in danger, Louie would go to the wall for me, just like I would for him.
Maybe I spoke too soon when I said this summer was going to be about as special as toast. Because – even though I can hardly believe it – I HAVE A DATE! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. I, Hildy D’Angelo, the girl most likely never to be kissed, have a date. A REAL DATE! Well, I almost have a date. I mean, I’m going to have a date. And not just, you know, SOME DAY. As soon as he calls and asks me out officially. Would you like to go to a movie, Hildy? And maybe afterwards we could grab a burger or something… And I will act surprised and say, Oh that sounds great— Good grief! I can’t remember his name! How can I not remember his name? Oh, thank you – whatever your name is – that sounds great. I can’t wait! Anyway, I’m too excited to say more about it now. I have to call Nomi and find out what his name is. I just wanted to put it in writing. Not because I think I’m going to forget. No worries there. But in case it winds up having historical significance. You know, so if we fall in love and get married and have 16 children, I can say, See? That’s what I wrote the day we met! How romantic is that?
Nomi says his name’s Connor. Only we’re not sure if that’s his first name or his last name. Nomi said maybe it’s both. Connor Connor. I said right, and he has a brother called Johnner. Nomi said, “You can never marry this guy, Hildy. Think about what you’d have to call your children. Donna and Bonner and maybe even Zonner. It’ll sound like you have a family of reindeer.” We couldn’t stop laughing.
So here’s what happened. Nomi, Maggie, Sara, Cristina and I all went to the mall this afternoon to escape the heat. We were having an excellent time like we always do. If I have to go shopping with my family it’s about as much fun as shaving under your arms with a dull razor. And no matter how long it really takes, it feels like it’s at least a day. (A very long day.) But when I’m with my friends, hours vanish like bubbles. Anyway, after we’d been in every store we like at least once, we stopped at our favourite coffee bar for a drink. Cristina had to go back to where she’d bought a skirt because she’d changed her mind about the colour again, and Maggie lost an eyelash somewhere and had to do repairs, and Sara went with Maggie so she could check on the blister from her new shoes without grossing everybody out, so I went up to order while Nomi stayed with our stuff. The guy behind the counter was new. He smiled. I smiled. (I have a normal smile, but he’s got a smile that makes you think you’ve never really seen anybody smile before. It made me feel like I was a glass of water and somebody dropped two Alka-Seltzers in me.) He said, “What can I get you?” I said, “Three iced lattes, an iced mint tea and a lemonade.” He said, “Coming right up.” And then he winked and my heart stopped for a couple of beats. While he was getting our drinks he said it looked like we’d been doing a lot of shopping, and I said, “Well, you know, that’s why we came to the mall – that and the air conditioning.” And he laughed. I guess because he laughed at my joke I got really brave and said I’d never seen him at Café Olé! before. He said that was because he’d only just started. AND THEN he said, “I would’ve started sooner if I knew you came here.” It was a good thing I wasn’t holding our drinks when he said that or they would’ve been all over the floor. And then he pointed to his shirt and I guess he said, “My name’s Connor,” and I said, “I’m Hildy.” He wanted to know if I came to Café Olé! a lot. I said, “Not as often as you do.” And he laughed again. When I got back to the table Nomi was looking at me like I’d found hidden treasure and she was waiting for me to tell her where it is. I said, “What?” She started laughing. She said, “Excuse me, Hildegard, but were my big brown eyes deceiving me or did I see you flirting?” I said her big brown eyes were deceiving her. I mean, have we met? I don’t even know how to flirt. In my family, Gus got all the flirting genes. Nomi said, “Well, he sure looked like he was flirting.” I said he was just being friendly. You know, like servers are supposed to be. I mean, good grief, everybody knows that. So they get you to buy more because you think they’re so nice and pally. “Oh right.” Nomi did her slapping-her-forehead thing. “I guess it’s true what they say about additives in our food. I must’ve been hallucinating all that smiling and head bobbing and I-think-you’re-hot body language because I eat so much junk.” And then she blew her straw wrapper at me. But all the while we were having our drinks, I kept kind of glancing over at him. Casually. Quickly. Like my eyes just happened to wander to him by accident. Maggie said, “That cute barista keeps looking over here.” Nomi made this innocent-little-me face. “Ooh… I wonder who he could be looking at?” Cristina peered over the tops of her glasses, “Did I miss something?” Sara glanced from me to Nomi and back again and said, “What’s going on?” I said they didn’t miss anything and nothing was going on. I thought I sounded pretty convincing. “Ignore Nomi. She’s been eating too much processed food. She’s delusional.” Nomi rolled her eyes like she was in some Broadway play. (She can be so melodramatic sometimes. She really should be in my family instead of me.) “Look at me! I’m delusional!” She said this really loud. You know, so everyone out in the parking lot could hear her. Heads turned. It would’ve been OK with me if the floor had opened up under my chair right then and I’d fallen through. But there’s never a trapdoor around when you really need one. I told them to stop laughing so much or he’d think we were talking about him. Maggie said, “We are talking about him.” Cristina pointed at me. “Look at you! Something is going on! You’re blushing!” My face felt like I’d been sitting on the beach all day without any sunblock. I said I thought we should be going and pushed back my chair. “You’re acting like school girls.” Sara said, “Um duh, Hildy. Don’t look now, but we are school girls.” I said not little ones we aren’t. Nomi said, “I don’t think Mr Coffee thinks you’re a little girl.” She was practically purring. They were all still laughing and teasing me as we started down the plaza. Then all of a sudden somebody called my name. “Hey! Hildy!” I turned around automatically. He was standing in the doorway of Café Olé!, waving. “Hildy! You forgot something.” I figured I must’ve dropped something when I was paying. Or fleeing. I’m always doing that. Usually disgusting used Kleenex or old wrappers. I ignored the sniggers of my childish friends and went back. “What?” I asked. “What did I forget?” And he said: YOU FORGOT TO GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NUMBER! Just like that. It was the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me. Like I was in a movie. (But not one of Louie’s!) I’m not an expert or anything – I’ve only had the two and a half dates that nobody remembers (and the half doesn’t even count) – but usually when a boy wants to ask you out he kind of shuffles around and then blurts out something awesomely sophisticated like, “You want to do something Friday night?” I think it must be a sign of maturity that Connor could say something so clever.
No call. No message. I didn’t really have anything planned for today so I spent most of the morning and afternoon just hanging around kind of waiting. It was like waiting to speak in front of the class. (Which to me is a lot like waiting for your turn to be hanged.) You have to pretend to be listening but all you can really think about is
when it’s going to be your turn. The difference is that when I have to speak in front of the class – or be executed – I’m nervous and terrified, and today I was nervous and excited. I know I’m being ridiculous. Even I know that “I’ll call you” doesn’t mean a boy’s going to call the minute he gets home. It’s not a promise. (Nomi says that most of the time it’s more like a threat.) But I still kept checking my phone every ten minutes. I even called myself from the landline to make sure it was working. (It was.)
Was relieved that I had something to do tonight. The whole Mob went to play beach volleyball and then for pizza. Cristina acted all surprised that I showed up. She said she thought I’d want to stay home and wait for Mr Coffee to call. I explained that the whole point of a cell phone is that you take it with you so you don’t have to spend half your life sitting by the telephone waiting for a call the way people used to. That’s why they were invented. To liberate us. Maggie said yeah, but I wasn’t going to hear my phone when I was charging through the sand to hit the ball, was I? Reminded her that I do have voicemail. He’s allowed to leave a message. And besides, I said, he can always call back, can’t he? Cristina said, “Dig you, Ms Cucumber. You’re getting the hang of this dating thing pretty fast.” Maggie said she didn’t see how he could call back if he’d never called in the first place. She thinks she’s funny. Nomi said I shouldn’t worry, it’s only been one day. Worry after a week. I said I wasn’t worried Connor wouldn’t call. Why would he say he’s going to call if he isn’t? It’s not like I made him say he’d call. It was his idea. If you have the idea to do something, why wouldn’t you do it? Sara said well, yeah. That makes sense. But personal experience suggests that it doesn’t mean that’s how it works. Kruger, who can remember any melody after hearing it once, never remembers when he’s supposed to call her. Or maybe Connor changed his mind. It’s been known to happen. So that all made me feel way better. I was jiggy today because I didn’t know when Connor would call, not because I didn’t think he would. But the girls got me so worried that I kind of lost concentration and collided with Kruger. He thinks I broke his nose. Thank God it wasn’t his hand.