Speed of Life

by Carol Weston

  Now it was my turn, my moment. I needed to summon my voice from deep inside and give it to everyone in the room. My mom always said that if you have a gift, you have to share it. “¡Canta!” I could hear her say. “Sing!”

  “This is for you,” I answered silently. “Es para tí.”

  And then I sang, loud and clear, in Spanish and on key, enunciating every word and landing every note. I did it for myself, for the audience, and for my mom.

  When I finished, there was complete silence, and I wasn’t sure whether to smile or bow, stay in the spotlight or step away. A man in the darkness said, “Wow.” And then, thunderous applause.

  • • •

  After the concert, I stepped into the bright hallway. Dad gave me a hug and said I sounded amazing. Kate agreed. Sam whispered, “You’re incredible.”

  Kiki said, “I’ve never heard you sound so good!” Gracie came up, and when Kiki told her she loved her scarf, Gracie said she’d made it out of ties.

  Even Alexa was full of compliments. “Jeez, Sofia,” she began. “I was kinda spacing out and looking around, you know, and then I heard this killer voice, and holy crap, it was you!”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know warm ’n’ fuzzy isn’t my style,” Alexa added, “but I was impressed by two things. One was your voice. The other was my reaction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, while you were singing, I was thinking, See that kid up there? That’s my sister.” She gave me a shove, so I shoved her back.

  • • •

  “Shouldn’t we fix the baby’s room?” Dad asked.

  Dad, Kate, Alexa, and I were peering into what Kate had always referred to as “the little room.” It was brimming with textbooks, Fifteens, trophies, a sewing machine, a coffeemaker, old skis, boogie boards, clothes, and clutter.

  “No need to turn it into a nursery overnight,” Kate said.

  “You guys don’t get it,” I said. “My dad lives for projects like this. This is his idea of a good time.”

  Ever since we’d moved, their home—our home—was becoming more organized. Dad had been slowly straightening the garage, basement, bookshelves, and cupboards.

  “He is pretty compulsive,” Alexa said.

  “In a good way,” Kate said.

  “I am itching to get in there,” Dad admitted. “People who live in apartments dream of finding an extra room…and here one is!”

  Dad and Kate pushed up their sleeves, and Alexa and I took a brisk walk around the lake.

  “Think we should give Mom a baby shower?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I went to one once, and there were these little contests.”

  “What do you mean ‘contests’?”

  “Like, each guest brings in his or her own baby photo and tapes it on the wall and everyone has to guess who’s who. We even played Baby Scattergories.”

  “Baby Scattergories?”

  “The categories are things like ‘children’s books’ or ‘celebrity baby names.’ So, for instance, if it’s, I don’t know, ‘things that come out of babies’ and the letter is D, you can say drool or doo-doo or diarrhea, and you get points if no one else wrote down your answer.”

  I gave Alexa a long look. “You’re kind of getting into this whole baby thing.”

  She smirked. “I know. Don’t tell.”

  • • •

  “Finally fifteen!” Sam said on December 21. Abuelo had arrived from Spain, and Dad, Kate, Alexa, Sam, Abuelo, and I all went to dinner at the Red Hat on the Hudson River.

  Sam’s birthday gift to me was a delicate chain with a tiny golden turtle dangling from it. I put it on and loved the way it felt around my neck. It made me happy that he’d noticed that I had a thing for turtles. At dinner, I kept touching the pendant.

  Abuelo gave me a jewelry box that he had carved himself. He said I could use it for my pearl earrings and turtle necklace. “Gracias,” I said, even though I couldn’t yet imagine taking the necklace off.

  I got other presents too, and Kate gave me a framed enlargement of the family photo taken in Florida.

  When a waiter set down a dazzling chocolate cake glowing with candles, I didn’t know what to wish for. So I just wished for it all to keep going—for this happiness to last.

  Maybe fifteen would be a good year. Or maybe, I thought, remembering that email Dear Kate had sent Catlover in February, things get easier, then harder, then easier, then harder, then easier and on and on and on. I couldn’t blame myself for having been a turtle for a while, for taking it slow and trying to play it safe. Yet somehow I had put one foot in front of the other and I was stronger now.

  I looked around the table. Everyone was smiling and laughing and looking happy and healthy. I knew I would never again feel as safe and carefree as I did back when I was a kid, when I thought death had nothing to do with my life. But I was doing okay. More than okay. I had gotten out from under the heavy blanket of grief. I was…growing up.

  • • •

  “Introducing the Bryans!” Kate exclaimed as she opened the front door. I’d heard so much about them, it was hard to believe I was meeting them for the first time.

  “Merry Christmas Eve!” Brian said. “¡Olé olé!” He had designer sunglasses balanced on his head. “Kiss me, Kate,” he said and gave her air kisses. “Now spin around,” he commanded, tut-tutting admiringly.

  “Hi, Kate!” Bryan said, stomping his boots. “We’re both so excited about your news.” He was taller than I’d imagined and very handsome and easygoing. I could see why Kate had fallen for him.

  “Come in, come in, it’s cold,” she said.

  “And you, my dear, are hot!” Brian was still checking out Kate’s full figure. He turned toward Dad. “Gregg, you dog!”

  “Wolfe,” Dad corrected with a smile. He’d met the Bryans a few times, when he had given Alexa rides into the city.

  Bryan handed Kate a basket. “We bought cava, Manchego cheese, and quince paste.”

  “Membrillo! I love membrillo!” I said.

  Dad introduced Bryan and Brian to Abuelo, who was wide-eyed.

  Alexa bounded downstairs. “Daddy! Brian!”

  “Lexi!”

  “Alley Cat!”

  More kisses, more hugs, more presents—and one tacky ornament. “Don’t you love it?” Brian said, showing us how on one side it was a cut-out palm tree and on the other a lady in a bikini with her hands in the air. “Look, it says, ‘I took my sweetie to Tahiti’!”

  Brian was funny. I could see why Bryan had fallen for him too.

  “I thought you were going to the Galapagos,” Alexa said.

  “We were. We did! But then we kept going. Two separate assignments for two different travel magazines,” Bryan said.

  “I am so in the wrong field!” Kate moaned.

  “Not true!” Brian consoled her. “The pay is awful. And we have to inspect every conference room and executive suite—boring! And the bus rides are interminable!” He clapped his forehead and winked at Bryan. “What we go through to keep our readers satisfied!”

  “My heart bleeds,” Kate teased. “In fact, here’s my teeny tiny violin.”

  I kept translating for Abuelo, who was trying to take it all in. Then we all moved into the living room, where the fire was crackling.

  “Actually,” Bryan said, placing the Tahitian ornament on our tree, “we did see an extraordinary sight. There was a full moon, and we saw a moonbow! The captain of the ship said he’d never seen such a thing in thirty years at sea. It was like a rainbow on the horizon but all white and ghosty and beautiful. I took pictures, but they didn’t come out. It was just a faint gray arch, shimmering in the moonlight.” I translated for Abuelo.

  Dinner was tortilla (made by me), seafood pael
la (made by Kate with Dad’s help), and Baked Alaska (made by Dad and me, flamed by Alexa). Not the usual fare, but we’d had fun preparing the feast.

  Alexa sat next to Abuelo and spoke in slow Spanish. I could tell she was teaching him a few English words, but at the end of dinner, I was surprised when he stood up and thanked us all. “And the next Chreesmees,” Abuelo announced with a twinkle, joining his arms and making a rocking motion, “¡un bebé!”

  • • •

  On Christmas morning, even Pepper and Coco got presents: catnip mice and plastic balls with jingle bells inside. They sniffed at boxes and played soccer with balled-up wrapping paper. Meanwhile, Abuelo gave us a shepherd made of Lladró porcelain, and I gave him a carved wooden turtle. Dad tried on a new sweater, and Kate modeled much-needed maternity clothes chosen by Alexa and me. The Bryans got a coffee table art book, and Alexa and I opened presents and emptied our stockings, which included Knicks tickets for her and Broadway tickets for me.

  Soon, there was nothing left under the tree. Dad said, “Wait, I think there’s still one more present.” He stood and reached into his pockets and pretended not to be able to locate what he was looking for, but then he patted his jacket, reached inside, and presented Kate with the little blue Tiffany box.

  All activity stopped as she pulled on its red satin bow. Everyone’s eyes were on Kate, and she looked at Dad and whispered, “I hope this is what I hope it is.”

  He smiled. So did Alexa. So did I.

  The ribbon fell to the floor, and Kate lifted the blue lid to reveal white tissue covering the black suede box. Kate’s hands trembled. Coconut rubbed against her, tail high in the air. Pepper settled near me.

  Kate was about to open the box when Dad said, “Wait.” He knelt in front of her. “Close your eyes.” Kate did. Alexa, Abuelo, the Bryans, and I hovered close.

  Dad removed the hair band from Kate’s fourth finger and said, “Now open your eyes and open the box.” Kate opened her eyes, but Dad was gazing into them with such intensity that she didn’t look away. When at last she lifted the lid, she gasped.

  “Katherine,” he began. “I never imagined I would fall in love again. But when I saw you at Halsey, I felt a connection that just keeps growing. I jump-started your car, and you jump-started my life. Now I can’t imagine living without you.” His voice wavered; her eyes were shining. “You’ve already let Sofia and me move in with Alexa and you, and we have already, quite literally, started a life together. So it’s high time I ask you a very important question.” There was no cheering, no translating. Everyone was quiet. Even the cats. “Katherine Baird, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes!”

  Dad slid the ring onto her finger. He kissed her hand, and she kissed his lips, and she finally looked at the sparkling diamond, tears in her eyes.

  The Bryans said, “Congratulations!”

  Alexa said, “I helped pick it out.”

  Abuelo said, “Felicidades.”

  I said, “Wow,” and realized I really was happy for both of them—for all of us.

  Of course, I wish my mom had never died. Of course! But she had. Months and months ago—and there was no turning back time.

  Bryan took pictures of Dad and Kate, and in a few, Kate held her hand up so her ring glittered, front and center. He took group shots too. In one, Dad, Kate, Alexa, and I posed together, and Abuelo said, “La nueva familia.”

  • • •

  “Wanna play Hearts?” Alexa asked as I walked into the living room. The Bryans had gone back to the city, and Abuelo had flown home.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Mom! Gregg! Hearts!”

  “No need to holler,” Kate said, as she poured us all glasses of eggnog.

  “Is it spiked?” Alexa asked.

  “I made yours a double,” Kate deadpanned.

  Dad joined us, and Alexa shuffled the cards and began dealing. “In science,” she said, “we learned that mistletoe is a parasite. Too much can strangle a tree.”

  “Like bittersweet,” Kate said.

  “You’d think mistletoe wouldn’t have a bad side,” I said.

  Dad sorted his cards and said, “You really do like science, don’t you, Alexa?”

  “Always have,” she answered.

  “Maybe you could volunteer with me at the clinic some Saturday. We get a lot of Hispanic teenagers, and it would help if they could talk to someone young and smart in their own language.”

  “What would I do?”

  “Greet them. Take their weight and blood pressure. Make them feel less scared.” Dad knew Alexa was as good at scaring girls as at putting them at ease, but he added, “You could make a difference.”

  “I’d have to think about it.”

  “What an opportunity,” Kate said. “And it would look good to colleges.”

  Alexa passed three cards to her mother. “Mom, could we not talk about colleges during vacation? Amanda just got rejected by Vanderbilt, where she applied early, so her Christmas break is ruined. And Nevada’s parents are stressed out because their cleaning lady’s son just got offered a free ride at Yale, and Nevada wants to apply there but hasn’t even finished her essays.”

  “Okay, okay. No more college talk,” Kate agreed.

  “Gregg, different subject,” Alexa said. “You always said you liked delivering babies. Couldn’t you go back to it now?”

  Dad put his cards together, then slowly fanned them out. “I think it was lucky I got to do OB as long as I did.”

  “I’m just saying, if you got calls in the middle of the night, we’d be here.”

  Kate put down a two of clubs, but I could tell she was listening.

  I played my ten.

  Dad played his king. “I like my uninterrupted evenings and my lower malpractice rates.” He looked at me. “And instead of delivering babies at all hours, I’d just as soon be here with all of you and our new baby.” The two cats came racing through the living room and started hissing at each other, wrestling furiously, ears pinned back. “It’s nice of you to think about it though.”

  Alexa played her ace and swept up the first trick. “I guess I could be free this Saturday,” she said without looking up. “I don’t really have anything better to do.”

  I peeked at Kate and could tell she was trying not to smile.

  • • •

  “Twelve little grapes,” I’d explained. “Every New Year’s Eve, when the clocks strike twelve, everyone in Spain stuffs their faces with grapes, one by one, as fast as they can.”

  “Don’t people choke?” Alexa asked.

  “No. You use little grapes. Or you cut regular ones in half and take out the seeds.”

  “Weird,” she said. “I prefer the American tradition. You kiss everyone in sight and blow on noisemakers, the kind that curl out like frog tongues.”

  We were upstairs, getting ready to go to a party with her friends.

  The doorbell rang, and I went down. It was Sam. “Happy Almost New Year!” I said. A frosty wind whooshed in, and he kicked snow off his boots and checked to see that we were alone. Then he opened his coat and wrapped me inside.

  “Brrr! Your hands are freezing!” I giggled and led him under the mistletoe. We kissed—one quick kiss, one slow one.

  “Wow, that is a huge tree,” Sam said.

  “I was just giving it a drink of ginger ale—my mom’s trick.” I gave him a tour of the tree, pointing out mementos from my childhood, Abuelo’s carved figurines, and even the tacky ornament from Tahiti.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you show me the other tree?” Sam asked. “The one in the city?”

  I thought about it. I hadn’t visited Mom’s tree in a long while, but Dad was driving in the next day to go to the New Year’s party in our old building. Former neighbors and teachers would be there, and Kiki said she’d go
with me if I wanted. But I was an outsider now, and I wasn’t sure how it would feel to drop in on my old life or chat about my late mother or soon-to-be stepmother.

  Was I ready? Was it time? Kiki and I used to get out my Magic 8 Ball for these sorts of questions. Responses were random, but it always seemed that Kiki got affirmative answers like “You may rely on it,” while I got fuzzy ones like “Reply hazy. Try again.” I was glad I’d gotten rid of that stupid ball.

  I’m fifteen, I thought. I’m ready enough. I didn’t need to consult an 8 Ball or Dear Kate or Ask Kiki. I had to use my head and trust my heart.

  I told Kiki I’d meet her at the brunch at Halsey Tower, and I decided to tell Sam to meet me afterward at Mom’s tree. Why not? I could handle it, couldn’t I? And if Sam saw me cry? So what. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “How about tomorrow afternoon? We could meet inside Riverside Park.”

  Sam smiled. “You’re on.”

  January

  Day one of the New Year. The clouds hung gray and thick. Flurries of snowflakes swirled and sparkled in the cold air.

  The annual party in our lobby turned out to be more fun than I’d expected. Mrs. Russell’s ribs were delicious, and Mrs. Morris made candy cane cookies, and my former Halsey Tower neighbors all made a fuss over me—and over Dad and Kate and her diamond ring. Kate was wearing one of the loose tops that Alexa and I had picked out, and no one mentioned the baby on the way.

  Teachers asked about my new home, and I said, “In a house, you can make all the noise you want without having to worry about downstairs neighbors. But it’s hard to get to know your neighbors because, well, no elevators.”

  Mrs. Russell asked if I had “any boyfriends.”

  “Just one,” I answered with a Mona Lisa smile. Mason came running over and gave me a sassy high five. He repeated “boyfriends” as if it were the funniest word he’d ever heard. I picked him up, and he held on tight.

  I liked talking to Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Morris, and Dr. G person to person rather than student to teacher. Dr. G asked if I was singing again, and Kiki said, “You should’ve heard Sofia at her holiday concert! She had a solo in Spanish, and she brought down the house—no, the school!”