Wife in the Fast Lane

by Karen Quinn

  “I think I heard her mention that.”

  “Yes, her name’s Renata. She’s eleven.”

  “That’s a damn shame. Who’s gonna take her now?”

  “I am Renata’s godmother.”

  “What?”

  Christy visibly gulped.

  “You’re not thinking of taking her, are you?” Michael looked like he could hardly breathe.

  Christy gave Michael her desperate, pleading face. The one that was usually irresistible.

  “NO. NO. NO. There’s got to be another family, Christy. There’s no way we can take a child, not with our responsibilities and lifestyle. You promised me, Christy. This is the only thing I really asked you for.”

  “Michael, there’s no other family. Why else would Maria have asked me to do this? Renata’s eleven; we just have to get through seven years.”

  “Christy, parenthood doesn’t end at eighteen. It never ends. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had a goddaughter before we were married?” She had never seen Michael angry like this.

  “Would it have made a difference?” Christy could see that no matter what the outcome, she had already laid everything on the line. She wished she could take it all back.

  “I don’t know, but you should have said something.” Michael looked at Christy with such fury that she recoiled.

  “I forgot. I mean, who expects to take a child in when they agree to be a godparent? Maria seemed so healthy. I never thought I’d actually be called to duty on this. Michael, please don’t be upset at me. Don’t you have godchildren you haven’t told me about?”

  “Yeah, but they’re in college. Not much danger of having to raise them.”

  Michael sat down and put his head in his hands. He ran his hands through his hair as he thought about what to do. That’s what he did when he was upset. Instantly, he looked like he hadn’t slept for three days. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Then he stood and began to pace.

  “I’m sorry. We’re not taking the child. You have to find another place for her, for her sake. I was a total failure at this.” Christy saw tears in Michael’s eyes.

  “Michael, honey, that’s not true. You were never given a chance. Things will be different this time. Besides, if we don’t take her, social services will.”

  “You can’t lay this at my doorstep, Christy. This is the one thing I cannot do. Please believe me.” Michael’s face was practically purple.

  “Honey…”

  “DON’T. ‘HONEY.’ ME. We’ll figure out an alternative. We’ll find her a family, someone who can give her what she needs.”

  “Michael, please, at least consider it,” Christy pleaded.

  “I married you because I trusted that you actually meant what you said when you told me you didn’t want children.” Michael grabbed his coat and walked out of the house. Christy watched him through the window and saw the Range Rover’s lights go on. She heard the engine grinding and wheels spinning in gravel. He gunned the SUV, backed out, and sped down the hill. Silently, she begged him to slow down.

  Should she wait? Go after him? Christy didn’t know how to fix this. She knew one thing, though. If she was forced to choose between Renata and Michael, she would have to choose Michael. That is, if he’d even take her back after this.

  Christy awoke with a start. Light spilled through the cracks in the curtains. She looked over: Michael’s side of the bed was empty. The clock read nine thirty-four. Instinctively, she touched her throat. The diamond necklace was digging into her skin. She reached behind her and unlatched it, then dropped it on the nightstand. Where was Michael? She ran downstairs, hoping she would find him asleep on the couch. He was sitting in the kitchen drinking a beer.

  He looked at her with an expression that told her he felt completely desolate. “That was our first argument,” he said sadly.

  “It was a doozy,” Christy added. She sat down beside him and found his hand.

  Michael stroked Christy’s hair gently. “What do you want me to say? That it’s okay to take the kid? That wasn’t our deal.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But I feel such an obligation. It’s Maria’s granddaughter.” She hesitated, then spoke. “Tell me. What would we do if something happened to Suzanna? Would we take Ali in?”

  Michael sat up. “Of course. I’m her father, her real father. But this is different. Renata’s not your child. And we had a specific agreement that we wouldn’t have children together. You want to go back on a promise that was fundamental to our getting married in the first place.”

  “Michael, please,” she said. “Just give it a try. You’ll see. Nothing will change. I’ll keep Renata separated from you. You can pretend she’s not in the house.”

  He looked at Christy. “I can’t do that. How can I not interact with her if she lives with us? Next thing you know, we’ll have a relationship. I’ll be involved.”

  “And that would be a problem why?”

  “Because I don’t want another child in my life. I already have a daughter who won’t speak to me. Christy, if I can’t live with my own child, how can I live with someone else’s?”

  “Michael, I’m sorry you don’t have a better relationship with Ali. But Renata’s exactly the kind of kid you always say you want to help. Not spoiled, never had a break, and she’s a straight-A student.”

  Michael ran his hands through his hair as he considered this. “Tell you what. I’ll take her if we can send her to boarding school. How about that?”

  Christy shook her head. “Please, only as a last resort, if she becomes a burden. She just lost her grandmother, who was like her mother, who died when she was three. Don’t you think she needs someone to nurture her, someone like me?”

  Michael looked at Christy and sighed. “Beegee, you don’t have a clue what you’re getting into. People like you and me make terrible parents. We have too many other obligations. I was a complete failure at it. I don’t want you to get your heart broken like I did.”

  “But Michael, let me take the risk. I feel like this is happening for a reason. It’s like I’m being given the chance to pay back a cosmic debt for all the good things that have happened to me, like you.”

  “You’re too generous for your own good.” There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice, but the wall was coming down. Christy could see that she hadn’t lost him completely. She took his comments as a yes and didn’t mention Renata for the rest of the weekend. She was smart enough to know when to stop negotiating.

  Michael, for his part, thought of nothing else.

  Renata the Refugee

  DEAR DIARY,

  THAT MEAN SELFISH BICH CHRISTY HAYES KILLED GRANDMA. GRANDMA WAS SO UPSET ABOUT MISSING MY CONCERT THAT SHE HAD A STROKE. IF CHRISTY HAD LET GRANDMA COME IT NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED. CHRISTY DENIED IT BUT ITS TRUE. I TOLD HER SHE HAS GRANDMA’S BLOOD ON HER HANDS.

  AFTER THE FUNERAL CHRISTY LEFT ME WITH HER ASISTENT EVE SO SHE COULD GO SKIING IN ASPEN. THAT’S JUST ONE MORE EXAMPLE OF HER SELFISHNESS. EVE IS NICE. WHILE CHRISTY WAS HAVING FUN, WE WENT TO BURGER KING. I HAD A DOUBLE WHOPPER WITH CHEESE. EVE HAD AN ANGUS STEAK BURGER. THEN WE WENT TO BLOCKBUSTER AND RENTED THE STEPDOG WIVES. IT WAS BORING BUT I PRETENDED I LIKED IT. WHY? I DON’T KNOW. I’M VERY CONFUSED RIGHT NOW.

  YOUR SAD, SAD FRIEND,

  RENATA

  ‘So, what do you think of your room?” Christy asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was her first day back after Aspen, and when she learned Renata had been sleeping in the tiny maid’s room behind the kitchen, she moved her into the guest room. It was at the opposite end of the apartment from the master, so contact between Michael and Renata would be minimized.

  “Can’t I stay near the kitchen? I like it there. Yok Wah is nice. She shows me how to cook things. And it’s warm and cozy. Plus it smells good.”

  “Renata, we need to keep that open for staff when they stay over. And your new room is so much bigger. Look, you have your own sitting area and TV.”

  Renata looked arou
nd. Her eyes welled. She didn’t say anything.

  “What?” Christy asked. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Renata gestured to the room around her. “It’s just that, it’s all so scratchy and shiny. It’s way too big for me.” She got quiet and looked down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me,” Christy said.

  “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s a good room. I’m lucky to have it,” Renata said flatly.

  Christy walked over to the child, who was sitting stiffly in the reading chair. She knelt down and took the girl’s hands in hers. “Renata, I was just a little younger than you when I had to go live with my father’s sister for a few months after my mom died. I remember how I hated sleeping in a new room. It felt so strange even though it was nicer than my own bedroom. And my aunt who took me in, I hated her at first. I kept comparing her to my mom, who was gone, and, well, she couldn’t win. You have to give this time, okay? Give us a chance? Please?”

  Renata turned her head away from Christy and fought back tears. She stood up abruptly. “I have to go to take a shower—will you excuse me?” Then she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

  “The best part about Renata’s Lemon Soap with bleach is that it’s specially formulated so you can use it to wash your hair, your hands, your body, and even moldy bathroom tiles. Let me demonstrate how Renata’s Lemon Soap with bleach cleans this grimy sink.” Renata held the soap bottle up to her face and smiled at the imaginary camera. “I’ll just pour a smidge into the sink like so. A little goes a long way. Now watch me add a touch of water and TA-DAA!! Look how shiny my sink is.” Renata smelled the soap and let out a satisfied “Ahhhhh” for the camera. “It smells like a summer day. And now, for the next five minutes only, you can buy two bottles of Renata’s Lemon Soap for the price of one.”

  “What are you doing?” Christy asked. She was standing at the bathroom door, having appeared out of nowhere.

  Hasn’t this woman ever heard of knocking? Renata wondered. “Nothing,” she said. Christy didn’t need to know that she was practicing for the Home Shopping Network.

  “I see,” Christy said. “Okay, well, I just wanted to tell you that your new nanny will be starting on Monday.”

  “I don’t need a nanny,” Renata said, putting her soap into the cabinet.

  Christy stood at the door. “Of course you do, sweetheart. Michael and I work all the time. You’re eleven. You have to have adult supervision.”

  “Christy,” Renata said (she wasn’t comfortable calling her “mom” yet, not that Christy had even asked), “I’ve gone to and from school by myself since I was six. I do homework and make A’s without nobody’s help. I cook my own dinner and clean my own house. Really, I don’t need a nanny.”

  “Renata,” Christy said, “you live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan now. Every kid has a nanny. It’s the law up here. And you don’t need to cook and clean anymore. We have staff that does that.”

  “Like Grandma, right? Why don’t you just treat me like who I am, the maid’s kid?”

  Christy’s eyes grew large. Her neck and cheeks got splotchy. Renata couldn’t tell if she was mad or hurt, but she was pleased with herself for getting a reaction. She wasn’t sure why.

  “Renata,” Christy said evenly, “I loved Maria. She was like a second mother to me.”

  “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have made her work instead of come to my concert.”

  Christy bit her lower lip. “Renata, doesn’t the fact that I took you in to live with me tell you that I loved your grandmother? Why else would I do that?”

  “That’s okay. I don’t need your charity.” But secretly, Renata wanted to be in Christy and Michael’s family. She was already imagining them eating together, going on vacation, celebrating holidays—family things. But she wanted those things only if they wanted her. This was all very confusing.

  “You don’t need my charity? Is that what you think this is? What, would you rather live in the attic and scrub our toilets?”

  “That’d be okay.”

  Christy looked crushed. “For God’s sake, Renata, can’t you see that I want to do the right thing here? At least meet me halfway. Do you know how hard I worked to get all this? You’ll never have to clean another toilet or wash another dish. Most people would be very happy about that.”

  “I like washing dishes,” Renata said primly.

  “Aaargh. You’re making me crazy,” Christy said, leaving in a huff.

  DEAR DIARY,

  I HATE IT HERE. IT’S THE COLDEST, MOST LONELIEST HOUSE EVER. I WISH I COULD TALK TO GRANDMA ONE MORE TIME. BUT I KNOW SHE’D JUST TELL ME TO LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE, LIKE CHIRSTY DOES, ONLY SHE’D SAY IT BETTER. THE ONLY BRIGHT SIDE IS THAT I GET TO LIVE WITH MR. DRUMMOND. I JUST HOPE HE WILL LOVE ME THE WAY UNCLE BILL LOVED BUFFY AND JODY ON FAMILY AFFAIR. BUT I’LL NEVER LOVE OR EVEN LIKE CHRISTY (THE MURDERER).

  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 w
hen 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.