6. She read my blog, which is almost like stealing it since it was only meant for Pia and Claudia—except that Pia and Claudia gave her permission to do it, so it doesn’t fully count as stealing.
7. Pia and Claudia gave her permission to read my blog.
8. She steals and yet she is at large.
9. And while we’re on the subject of large—in the dressing room I noticed that her boobs are very large, which is why the dress fit her better than it fit me.
10. That’s not a nice or mature thing to mention, but it’s true, and there’s honor in truth.
11. While we’re being truthful, I don’t much care for her personality either. It is also very large.
6:16 PM, PST
I wish you guys were around so I could talk to you. Oh, wait—Jeremy’s IM’ing me:
JC26e4U: u there? raisinrodriguez: yes. Y r n’t u at black x-mas?
JC26e4U: I don’t have any songs to do and I don’t play an instrument. raisinrodriguez: u could watch
JC26e4U: nah, I’d feel dumb. I’m a take-charge guy; I don’t like just standing around for no reason. raisinrodriguez: but don’t u want to hang out with everyone else?
JC26e4U: I don’t care raisinrodriguez: I have an idea. U wanna do this song called raisin the red-eyed person?
JC26e4U: did u rite it? raisinrodriguez: yeah.
JC26e4U: sure. I’d do that song. raisinrodriguez: I’ll e-mail it to you. Have fun.
JC26e4U: wait—did you want something? raisinrodriguez: I’ll tell u l8r.
JC26e4U: k. bye!
JC26e4U: PS—don’t let the Typo get u down
Comments:
logged in at 7:33 PM, PST
Lynn: Dude, I know you’re in pain, but your tune “Raisin the Red-Eyed Person” totally rocked the house. Sometimes the best artwork comes out of suffering. You should take pride in your creative process. It might be an interesting experiment to try and have as bad a time as possible in Berkeley and see what other creative works come out of it.
Comments:
logged in at 7:35 PM, PST
Fippy: It’s true, Rae. Your song was the best tonight. And Jeremy totally wailed on it. Really punked it up. Loud and strong. Really loud and strong. Roman couldn’t stop saying, “ ‘Raisin the Red Eyed Person’ totally out-rocked ‘Black Christmas Totally Rocks’.” Coming from him, that’s like comparing you to Interpol.
7:45 PM, PST
Lynn—Thank you for your suggestion, but right now I’m too miserable to consider suffering for my art. Maybe I can give it a try once I’m feeling a little better.
I just got off the phone with CJ, and he didn’t even mention my song. Maybe no one told him that it was mine. Which would kind of make sense since he doesn’t actually speak to anyone. All he said was, “Both my violin solos went really well, especially 'Black Christmas Totally Rocks.’ It totally rocked.” (Come to think of it, it sounds like maybe he’s been talking to Roman).
I guess my feelings can’t be hurt if he didn’t even know that the song was mine. Which is a good thing, because I don’t even think there’s room in my feelings to be hurt by one more thing.
7:56 PM, PST
Forgive me. I seem to have miscalculated. There is room in my feelings for me to be hurt by one more thing.
WHY COULDN’T CJ FIGURE OUT THAT I WROTE “RAISIN THE RED-EYED PERSON”! WHO ELSE WOULD WRITE A SONG LIKE THAT? AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHY COULDN’T HE PICK UP ON THE FACT THAT IT’S A CRY FOR HELP?
Even Jeremy picked up on it, and he’s not my boyfriend.
Observe:
JC26e4U: rae, did you hear? your song raisinrodriguez: totally rocked, I know I know
JC26e4U: well, isn’t that a good thing? raisinrodriguez: it should be, but I guess I don’t care cuz all these other bad things are happening
JC26e4U: is there more? raisinrodriguez: kinda
JC26e4U: I sensed the song was a cry for help raisinrodriguez: u did?
JC26e4U: well, u don’t sound very happy. raisinrodriguez: tell that to my boyfriend
JC26e4U: whaddya mean? raisinrodriguez: he didn’t even mention the song
JC26e4U: figures raisinrodriguez: whaddya mean?
JC26e4U: nothing. Just that prolly no one told him it was yours. I mean, I didn’t. I only told fippy and lynn and they don’t really talk to him. raisinrodriguez: but roman knew
JC26e4U: cuz fippy told him. Just no one who talks to cj knew.
JC26e4U: rae?
JC26e4U: where’d ya go? raisinrodriguez: sorry . . . I was just lost in thought wondering who actually does talk to CJ.
JC26e4U: you. raisinrodriguez: that’s it?
JC26e4U: well, when you’re around, we all talk to him raisinrodriguez: weird . . . I guess I always knew I was the only one who talked to him. I just didn’t know that other people knew that too. But of course they do. They’re the ones not talking to him. I gotta go get dressed for 2nite. Meeting dad’s friend Daniela.
JC26e4U: well, cheer up. And thanks for the song. It totally rocked.
In all fairness, I’ve known Jeremy longer than I’ve known CJ. Maybe I just need to give him a chance to catch up.
11:33 PM, PST
I am in so much trouble!!!
My dad’s friend Danny (and yes, they are most definitely just friends, as you will shortly see) is as it turns out VIVVY’S MOTHER! They met at a dinner party at Pia’s mother’s house!
Of all the people for him to make friends with, why does it have to be her? Weren’t there any other people at Pia’s mother’s house? I’m sure Mr. Ellison was there. He’s Pia’s next-door neighbor. He’d be a perfect friend for my dad. He even does yoga. I’ve seen him do it on his patio. Why couldn’t Dad have picked him? And Mrs. Ellison is very nice too. I’m not sure whether she does yoga, but she makes some mean oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
What am I going to do? If Vivvy hasn’t already told her mother what happened this morning (I’m crossing my fingers—she was on her way to her dad’s when I last saw her), then she’s bound to do it soon. And if it gets back to my dad . . . he will kill me. Accusing people of stealing and fighting over clothing is not the yogic way. Though I should remind him that neither is killing your children.
And to think I spent so much energy trying to figure out whether they were boyfriend and girlfriend when I really should have been concentrating on how I wanted to spend my last night on earth.
As soon as Danny came on the boat, I was pretty sure she wasn’t my dad’s girlfriend. She has gray hair, which makes her look older than him, and she’s also taller than he is.
And once we pulled out of the slip, they went down to the galley to get dinner ready and I eavesdropped on their conversation, which convinced me even more.
This is what I heard:
Daniela: Can you pass me the sugar?
Dad: (He passes her some sugar.)
This is what I did not hear:
Daniela: Give me some sugar.
Dad: (He gives her a great big hug.)
I heard this:
Dad: Did you have a chance to pick up the cupcakes?
Daniela: Yup. I stopped by The Teacup on the way home from work.
But not this:
Dad: Cupcake, I love you.
Daniela: I love you more.
This happened:
Dad: Captain Murray says the water’s extra calm tonight.
Daniela: Well, I brought something for motion sickness just in case.
This did not:
Dad: Your eyes are blue like the water.
Daniela: And you have beautiful brown eyes. And if I could think of anything good to compare them to, I’d compare them to that.
When my dad and Danny were done setting the food out on the deck, we sat down to eat. By this time we were far out at sea. It was an incredibly beautiful night. The sky was almost completely clear, and the stars were shining brightly. The ocean, the bright lights of the Golden Gate Bridge, and other boats were all I could see for miles.
Those and the horn-rimmed half glasses that suddenly appeared, perched on Danny’s nose.
The ones that are sold at Rite Aid and you try them on because you want to see if you can pull off that emo girl look. But you might never find out because when you look in the mirror, everything is blurry because they’re meant for nearsightedness.
“So what have you been doing since you got here?” asked Danny, interrupting my train of thought. She peered at me over her glasses as she took a bite of goat cheese salad.
“Hanging out with my friends, shopping, that kind of thing,” I said.
“You know, Danny knows Pia and Claudia,” said my dad.
“Really? How?” I asked.
“Well, they’re friends with my daughter,” Danny said. “I think you might have met her. Her name is Vivvy?”
I almost fell overboard. My dad’s new friend Danny was Vivvy’s mother? What did this mean? What did she know about my time with Vivvy? What did my dad know? Was this an ambush? Was I in trouble? Where they going to make me walk the plank?
“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Until I added, “She’s very nice,” because it seemed like the right thing.
I wondered why Vivvy hadn’t said anything. Or Pia and Claudia.
“It’s kind of a funny situation, isn’t it, Raise?” my dad said.
“Yeah, you could say that,” I said, mumbling into my vegetarian chili. “Does Vivvy know?”
“Yes, but I asked her not to tell you,” Danny said.
“We thought it’d be better to tell you tonight rather than bombard you with all these new developments right away,” my dad said. Which I thought was sort of sweet. “You ready for some Christmas carols?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.
I said yes, but all I wanted to do was jump off the boat, row back to shore on the dinghy, take a cab home, and call Vivvy so I could apologize to her before she said anything to her mom and her mom said anything to my dad.
While my dad and I sang, Danny started to clean up. I felt bad for her, so I got up to help her. It only seemed fair.
“Oh, that’s okay, Raisin,” Danny said, patting my head. “You just sing. Don’t worry about me. I’m Jewish anyway, so I’m going to sit these songs out.”
Then I really felt bad for her. “So no Christmas and no Christmas presents?” I said.
“Well, we have Hanukkah, which starts the day after tomorrow and lasts for eight days.”
So Vivvy gets to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, that lucky duck! Nine days’ worth of presents and the poor girl still feels the need to steal.
After the carols, we went back down to the galley to make s’mores with Danny’s s’mores maker and her special kosher marshmallows, which were just as delicious as regular marshmallows.
Aside from the horrible news about Danny and Vivvy, I had a really nice time tonight. I like Danny.
Now I have to write Vivvy and apologize to her before she has a chance to tell Danny about the fight. It’s a shame it’s so late. Otherwise I’d call.
11:40 PM, PST
Here’s what I wrote:
Dear Vivvy,
I’m sorry I yelled at you about the dress. I totally overreacted.
Please forgive me. I want to be your friend.
XO,
Raisin
PS—I’m also sorry I yelled at you about the pie. If it makes you feel any better, I’m completely ashamed about it. I think I sounded like a total pig.
That should do the trick, right? I take full responsibility for my actions and I’m a hundred percent apologetic. I hope she checks her e-mail tonight. I’ll be relieved when she writes back. At least then even if she tells Danny about the fight, she’ll say I already apologized and then I’m less of the bad guy.
12:41 AM, PST
I couldn’t sleep, so I created this handy little chart as a visual aide. I think, Fippy, you’ll find that it supports my findings on the subject of Danny and whether or not she’s my dad’s new girlfriend.
Saturday, December 25
12:33 AM, PST
Merry Christmas Kitties,
Vivvy hasn’t gotten back to me yet. Maybe she’s still sleeping. I’m going to call CJ. That’ll kill some time, and maybe by the time we’re done, talking I’ll have an e-mail waiting from CJ.
12:34 AM, PST
One minute. That’s a four-second improvement on our last conversation. I could have killed the same amount of time by looking away from my computer screen and then looking back.
But at least I finally have a decent explanation as to why CJ doesn’t talk much. At least not to people.
I was telling him about my e-mail to Vivvy. And that I didn’t know whether to write her again, or call her, or just give her some more time to get back to me.
At first CJ wasn’t saying anything. So I took Vivvy’s advice. “CJ,” I said. “Talk to me.”
Boy, do I wish I could take that back. You will not believe what he said.
He said, “Whenever I need to figure something out,
I talk it out with my meteorite.”
“Does it answer you?” I asked, panicking.
“Of course not,” he said, much to my relief. “But meteorites can be as ancient as the universe itself, and I like to think its wisdom has a positive influence on my thought process.”
“Uh-huh, good to know,” I said. And for the first time, I was the one to end the conversation.
That’s pretty creepy, right? I mean, I have reason to be bothered by this, don’t I? As soon as my Vivvy situation is resolved, I’m going to start obsessing over this, but I can only handle one disaster at a time.
Comments:
Logged in at 12:28 AM, PST
Lynn: Yes, that’s a little peculiar, Rae.
Logged in at 12:29 AM, PST
Fippy: He’s always been a little strange, Raise, y’know?
12:45 AM, PST
I just called Pia and she told me that Vivvy got my e-mail but she didn’t think it was sincere.
But it was sincere. I sincerely want her to forgive me so she won’t tell her mom about it.
Seriously, though. I wrote the exact same thing I would have written if I had been sincere.
I guess I could call her. Pia gave me the number at Vivvy’s dad’s house.
1:03 AM, PST
Raisin: Can I speak to Vivvy?
Vivvy’s dad: Sure. Can I tell her who’s calling?
Raisin: Um . . . sure. Tell her it’s Raisin.
VD: Just a moment, please.
VD: I’m sorry, Raisin, Vivvy is unavailable at the moment. I’ll tell her you called.
Click.
Here’s a bit of phone etiquette: If person A calls your home and asks to speak to person B, once you say, “Sure,” you can’t get back on the phone and pretend that person B suddenly became unavailable. It’s too obvious that person B is perfectly available but just doesn’t want to speak to me.
—A public service announcement from your local Raisin Rodriguez.
2:15 PM, PST
Danny just called to talk to my father. I don’t think she said anything about my fight with Vivvy, but how can I be sure? This is driving me crazy. I decided that I’m going to give Vivvy the dress. If that doesn’t demonstrate a genuine desire to make up, then I don’t know what would.
I love that dress, but it’s not worth all the grief it’s caused.
2:17 PM, PST
So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna give Vivvy the dress.
2:19 PM, PST
The beautiful, vintage, possibly one-of-a-kind, Emilio Pucci halter minidress, with the psychedelic pattern. That dress.
2:20 PM, PST
Because people are more important than dresses.
2:21 PM, PST
Even if the dresses look absolutely perfect with the boots, earrings, and wig. Like out-of-a-magazine perfect.
2:23 PM, PST
And if you’re thinking, Well, it didn’t fit her on top anyway, I ha
d been planning on having Samantha or my mom make some alterations. But no biggie. I’m giving it to Vivvy. It’ll be fine.
2:24 PM, PST
Would it be inappropriate for me to wear the whole outfit to Claudia’s house later? Just to have the experience of wearing it out once? And then when it’s time for me to give it to her, I’ll just have a change of clothes ready?
5:47 PM, PST
My dad just asked me why I’m dressed like I’m going to a costume party. Fair enough. I’ll change, but I’m not going to like it.
11:15 PM, PST
I just got home from Claudia’s. It was very tense at first. Vivvy wouldn’t look at me and I wouldn’t look at her, and each of us sort of pretended the other wasn’t even in the room while we did Claudia and Pia’s gifts.
But when they were finished giving out their presents, it was obvious that Vivvy and I would have to start acknowledging each other.
We all stalled for a while by having random conversations about things like split pea soup (P&C were pro bacon, Vivvy and I were con), how often we remember our dreams at nights (P&C do, Vivvy and I don’t), and whether we could name all fifty states (that was a unanimous no).
“Okay, whose turn is it next?” Pia finally asked.
“I’ll go,” I said, figuring the sooner I give Vivvy the dress, the sooner all the badness would go away.
“Um, this is for you,” I said, handing her a gift-wrapped box. She gave me a quick for me look, and I nodded reassuringly. Then she reached out her hand to take it from me.
I got a Pop-Rocks-in-my-stomach feeling. I knew she’d be so happy when she saw what it was. She took her time opening the box, but when she pulled back the tissue paper packing, she shrieked. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m positive,” I said. “I’m really, really sorry about yesterday,” I told her.
Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? Page 8