“Are you kidding me, that shirt is gorgeous. You have to get it.”
Giselle shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
Dahlia came back and tossed the bigger jeans on the bench inside Giselle’s dressing room. “Let’s see how those look.” Giselle was mortified.
Half an hour later, the girls walked to the register to pay for their clothes. Giselle had her outfit for Josh’s party, but she wanted to lose at least ten pounds before she went shopping for Alex’s party next month.
“Oh my, my, my—Giselle dear,” Nana said with her well-manicured hand cupping her nipped and tucked face, “I see you’ve been busy at McDonalds since we’ve last seen each other.”
I hate you, Giselle thought, looking into her grandmother’s eyes.
“Yeah, I’m on a diet,” she responded, pulling her shirt over her hips.
“That’s a good girl,” Nana continued. “We don’t want it to get out of hand and end up having to go through liposuction, or even worse, a gastric bypass.”
“Mom,” Giselle’s aunt Linda said sharply, “Giselle looks fine. I think her hips are sexy.”
Aunt Linda patted Giselle on the shoulder with a smile. “Honey, you look fantastic.”
Giselle could always count on a snide comment from her grandmother, like “Darling, you really ought to find a lipstick that better suits your skin tone. Pink just isn’t your shade.”
And although Aunt Linda was always quick with a positive comeback, Nana’s words always did a better job at sticking in her mind.
“I’m on a diet.” Giselle repeated, more for herself than for anyone else in the room.
It was Uncle Richard and Aunt Linda’s sixteenth wedding anniversary. Giselle, Brian, and Katie had driven up to their home in Cape Cod for the weekend to celebrate. Other than seeing Aunt Susan and Aunt Linda, Giselle dreaded family get-togethers. Thank God, visits were few and rare. Everyone was busy with their own lives and lived at least a good three hours away from one another.
“How’s the happy couple?” Nana asked as Katie straightened out Brian’s tie.
Nana had liked Katie from the start. In her mind Katie was a much better fit for her son than Giselle’s mother had been. Her death was such a pity, of course, but she never did see what Brian saw in that simple girl.
“Shall we move into the dinning room?” Aunt Linda asked, clasping her hands, “Marisol has prepared a remarkable meal.” With the exception of her father, Giselle’s family hired staffs of cooks, drivers, nannies, and housekeepers who were for the most part black or Hispanic. Giselle always felt funny being served and chauffered by people who looked more like her than her own family.
Giselle sat next to her cousin Sadie, Aunt Susan’s anorexic daughter. No one admitted it, of course, but Sadie would spend lots of time at “health spas” and come back with ten more pounds on her lanky body.
Sitting on Giselle’s other side was cousin Cassie, Aunt Linda’s little angel, who could do absolutely no wrong, not even in Nana’s eyes. Giselle hated being jealous of a twelve-year-old, but she was.
“A toast,” Uncle Barry said, lifting his champagne glass. “To Linda and Richard.”
“Linda and Richard,” the family echoed at the long table.
The forks and knives clinked gently on the china plates and the conversations were soft and muffled as always. Giselle watched her family and tried to remember her family dinners in the Dominican Republic. She’d been so young, but she definitely remembered a bit more commotion at the table. With only one more week to go before Juanita came to visit, her family in the Caribbean was heavily on her mind.
CHAPTER 3
Today was the day. Juanita’s plane would be arriving at four p.m. from the Dominican Republic into JFK airport. Giselle felt a mixture of dread and excitement. Part of her couldn’t wait to meet a cousin from her mother’s side of the family. Finally she’d look like one of her cousins instead of being the only one with dark skin. On the other hand, Giselle was worried that seeing Juanita might bring up sad feelings about her mother. She hadn’t spoken about her mom for so long; she didn’t know what feelings to expect.
Brian parked the car and walked to the terminal with his daughter in silence. The same thoughts were going through his head. For eight years he had pushed back any thoughts of his wife and any reminder of her. After she died from cancer, he sold their house in Connecticut—where they were married—and bought another in Long Island. He hired Erin, a live-in nanny, to care for his daughter and occupied himself with work to distract his mind with less painful matters. Only within the last year had he begun to heal his wounds. Katie came into his life as a friend and a loving relationship unexpectedly bloomed. She convinced him to see a therapist about his past tragedy, and little by little Brian was able to face his pain. But now, as he walked toward the terminal to pick up Juanita, he felt a little nervous about having her over. This will be good for us, he tried to convince himself, especially Gigi. This will be great for Giselle.
Brian and Giselle stood by the arrival gate among the other families waiting to greet their loved ones. Giselle looked around at the Dominican faces and then at her father’s pale white skin and light blue eyes. For once, he stood out from the crowd instead of her. Giselle held up a small pink sign that read “Juanita” in bold black letters.
The passengers began to file out through the narrow corridor. “Ahhhyyyyeee!” an old woman screeched as she saw her grandchildren running toward her. The scream startled Giselle and made her drop her sign. The loud greetings multiplied as more and more families reunited. My god, Giselle thought. She’d never seen such a fuss over greeting relatives before.
A young girl with a thick head of black curls appeared with a large flowery backpack on her shoulders.
“¡Prima!” she yelled, and ran toward her cousin. Giselle didn’t know that prima meant cousin, and she was too busy looking at all the commotion around her to notice Juanita charging toward her with open arms.
“Ugh!” Giselle grunted as Juanita tackled her with the tightest hug she’d ever experienced in her life.
“Tío Brian!” she squealed, pulling him into the hug so that it looked like a football huddle. Giselle was caught completely off guard by the exuberant hello. She wriggled her way out of the hug and took a deep breath as if she had just been pulled underwater.
“I no can believe I here!” Juanita said, allowing Brian to take the flowery bag from her shoulders.
Ohmigod, Giselle thought, this is Juanita?
Giselle thought Juanita looked a bit like her, but on an extremely bad day. The girl’s outfit looked like it came from a Salvation Army thrift shop! She was wearing a tight, shimmery red skirt with pink circles that looked like different-sized bubbles. Her shirt was a different shade of pink and had sparkling sequins on the border of the plunging neckline. Juanita had a generous figure, and the skirt did nothing to hide her big hips and huge butt. She wore red, plastic dangling earrings, her shoes were obviously fake patent leather, and her hair was a frizzball of dark curls that bounced over her shoulders.
“How was your flight?” Brian asked, knowing it was her first time on an airplane.
“I was berry eh-scared,” she said, opening her huge brown eyes even wider. Juanita bent her knees and waved her arms to demonstrate the turbulence. She wrapped herself around Giselle’s arm as they walked and enthusiastically spoke to her in Spanish. Giselle looked at her father, then at Juanita.
“No habla-ray Espanolo.”
“Oh!” Juanita said a bit shocked. She was certain her cousin spoke at least a little Spanish.
“No-sing? No eh-Spanish, even lee-tal bit?”
“No,” Giselle said, “not even a little bit.”
Juanita decided at that moment that she would teach her cousin Spanish during her visit. She couldn’t let someone in her family walk around not knowing Spanish. Every Dominican should speak the language, no matter where they lived.
They walked over to the baggage carousel and waited for Juanita’s
luggage. “Der it is!” she yelled, seeing her bright purple suitcase wobble down the conveyor belt.
“That’s all you have?” Brian asked, surprised by how little she’d packed. “Hey, Gigi, you should learn how to travel like your cousin over here.”
Giselle rolled her eyes.
Brian reached over and grabbed Juanita’s vibrant luggage, which rested on top of the other dull black suitcases.
“I no can believe I in New Jork City!” she squealed, squeezing Giselle’s arm and resting her head on her shoulder. “I berry happy I see jou again. I miss jou berry much. Ebbry-body in San Pedro miss jou berry much.”
Juanita latched on to Giselle’s arm the rest of the way as they walked toward the car.
What is she doing! Giselle thought. People are going to think she’s my lesbian lover!
Juanita kept talking as they put her bags in the trunk and settled into the car. Giselle couldn’t get over how loud she was talking. Ohmigod! she thought. Why is this chick screaming? Although Juanita had obvious struggles with the English language, it didn’t stop her from talking up a tropical storm. She was bubbling over with questions.
“Is it berry scary jou climb dee high buildings in Manhat-tong?”
“What?” Giselle asked.
Not only did Juanita have a thick Spanish accent, she spoke ridiculously fast.
Juanita repeated her question exactly the same way.
“Is it berry scary jou climb dee high buildings in Manhat-tong?”
Silence. Brian cut into the conversation.
“Giselle, she’s asking if it’s scary to climb up the tall buildings in Manhattan,” he said, turning his head and craning his neck from the driver’s seat.
“Oh,” Giselle said, “no, it’s not scary…I guess.”
“I will like berry much to see dee Empire eh-State Building. We go there?”
This was driving Giselle nuts.
“Can you just talk a little bit slower, please?”
Juanita laughed and apologized. “Ebbry-body in my family talk berry fast.”
Are they loud, too? Giselle silently said to herself.
“Jou will be feef-ting berry soon, jes?” Juanita continued slowly. “Jou will have quinceañera party?”
“A what party?” she asked.
Giselle was completely frustrated. Ohmigod, she thought, this is going to be the longest summer of my life.
CHAPTER 4
Juanita could hardly contain herself. She couldn’t believe she was actually here in America. She’d grown up listening to her mother’s stories of when she’d lived in New York City with Tía Jackie—Giselle’s mother. The stories always sounded like so much fun, and she absolutely loved listening to the funny situations her tía got them into. She had been looking forward to hanging out with Giselle, who she thought would be just like her tía Jackie.
Juanita’s mother, Milagros had always wanted to send Juanita to America to visit her niece/goddaughter Giselle. When the girls were born, just a year apart, Milagros thought they would be as close as she and her sister Jackie. After her sister died, it was difficult to get in contact with her niece. She tried to arrange visits to the Dominican Republic, but Brian refused to let her go alone and was too busy to accompany her. She tried to make trips back to America to see her niece and other cousins in Washington Heights, New York, but once she saved enough money something always came up—the money would have to go to a more urgent cause. Milagros could hardly believe the phone call she’d received from Brian with his generous invitation to fly Juanita out to America. Although she had a hard time accepting such a splendid gift, she knew how wonderful it would be for her daughter to go to America and be reunited with her cousin Giselle.
Brian pulled into the driveway and Juanita gasped at the mansionlike house before her. It looked like the house of an American celebrity. Milagros had told her that Tío Brian had a lot of money, but never did she imagine someone in her family having this much wealth.
She gasped again as they walked through the front door. In her house in the Dominican Republic she could touch the ceiling if she stood on a chair. She would need a flying carpet to reach Giselle’s ceiling. The living room alone was bigger than her whole house. She wondered what it would be like to live in a house like this instead of hers. Her small wooden house was home to her mother, father, two sisters, aunt and uncle, and newborn cousin.
“Hi, Juanita!” Katie squealed as she dashed out of the kitchen drying her hands with a small towel. “Welcome to America.”
“Juanita, this is my girlfriend, Katie,” Brian said, putting her bags on the shiny wooden floor.
“Berry nice to meet jou,” Juanita said. Katie extended her hand, but Juanita quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek and a big hug instead.
“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” Katie said, gushing at such unexpected affection. “I’m going to go back into the kitchen. I’m cooking you a nice little welcome dinner. It’ll be ready soon. You must be famished.”
“Famous?” Juanita asked, confused by Katie’s statement.
“No, no, no, dear, famished. That just means hungry. You must be very hungry,” she said nice and slow.
“Oh, hungry. Jes, I am always hungry,” Juanita laughed.
Giselle and Brian gave her the whole tour—the carpeted game room with a pool table, a Ping-Pong table, and three huge arcade games; the dream kitchen, where Juanita could imagine her and her mother making their delicious meals; and the living room with no television that looked too perfect to even enter. The dinning room could hold every aunt, uncle, and cousin in San Pedro, and their den had a television with the biggest screen she’d ever seen in her life. But her favorite part of the house was the built-in pool in the backyard with a diving board and a twisty slide. For the first time that evening, Juanita was quiet. She was in complete awe and disbelief—and this was only the first floor.
The phone rang—Giselle ran to the kitchen to grab it while Brian took Juanita’s bags and led her upstairs to the bedrooms. “This is your room, Juanita,” Brian said, turning on the light. The room was enormous, with white and baby blue flowers on the wall and a king-sized bed in the middle covered with a cloudlike quilt. “You have your own bathroom through that door,” he said. “There’s plenty of closet space and there’s an extra quilt in that chest. So, why don’t you go ahead and settle in and let us know if there’s anything you need.”
“Sank jou berry much,” Juanita said.
“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” he said, walking toward the door. “We’re very happy that you’ve come to stay with us, Juanita.”
“I berry happy, too.”
Brian closed the door and the room was quiet—too quiet. Juanita walked over to the empty closet with the fancy padded hangers on the golden rod. She hadn’t packed enough clothes to fill even a third of the space. It was strange to hear her own footsteps on the shiny wooden floor and the zipper of her suitcase echoing in the large room. In her house, these noises would have been drowned out by music, screaming kids, loud conversations, and laughter.
Juanita jumped on her bed and it was as soft as it looked. She snuggled under the down quilt and stretched her arms and legs across the wide bed. She could never spread out like this at home, sleeping with her two little sisters.
Giselle walked in with an armful of fresh white towels to put in Juanita’s bathroom. “Prima,” Juanita yelled, jumping out of the bed. Her cousin had explained to her that prima meant cousin, but Giselle wished she would just call her by her name.
Juanita excitedly went over to her opened suitcase and waved Giselle over to sit next to her. Giselle put down the towels and grudgingly sat.
“I have eh-some present for jou from dee family in San Pedro.”
Giselle lit up. “Presents?”
The first thing Juanita pulled out of her bag was a handknit red shawl with large, colorful flowers on the ends. “Abuelita make for jou, and my moh-der make dee flowers.” Juanita slipped the shawl over Giselle
’s head and squealed something in Spanish, obviously loving how it looked.
Giselle walked over to the mirror—she was speechless. It was the tackiest thing she had ever tried on.
“Jou can put it at night for dee cold,” Juanita said, fluffing the flowers that had been squashed during the trip. Giselle was touched that her grandmother and aunt had gone to so much trouble to knit this for her, and she felt guilty for hating it. But she could never wear this in front of her friends—never in a million years!
“Oh, it’s pretty,” she lied. “Tell them I said thank you very much.”
Juanita went back to the suitcase. She wasn’t done. “Dis is for jour fah-der,” she said, unveiling a gaudy painting of Dominican farmers. Giselle wondered where the heck her father would hang it. Not only was it ugly, but it didn’t go with the décor of the house. “Tío Ruben make dee painting and sell dem in the Dominican Republic for dee touristas,” Juanita said, holding it up with pride. “I pick dee best one for jour fah-der.”
Wow, Giselle thought, trying to hide her disgust. If that’s the best, I can imagine what the rest look like!
“Oh, okay,” she said with the best fake smile she could muster. “I’m sure my father is going to love it.”
Juanita pulled a lot more gifts from her purple bag. Each one seemed to be tackier and gaudier then the one before—cheap porcelain figurines of ladies in flowery dresses, a wooden hand press for squashing plantains (some sort of banana Giselle had never even heard of), salt and pepper shakers in the shape of palm trees, maracas with the Dominican flag painted on them and lots of colorful plastic rosary beads. That purple suitcase was like a magical bag of endless gaudiness—it wouldn’t stop. Giselle couldn’t bear to look at one more souvenir, but the guilt of hating each gift was even worse. That’s all right, she thought, trying to make herself feel better. I’ll make sure she goes back home with gifts for everyone that will blow their minds—real gifts.
Brian knocked on the door to say dinner was ready. “Great,” Giselle said, popping up from the floor. “Let’s eat.” She pulled her father into the room on her way out. “Hey, Dad, Juanita has some great little gifts for you. Why don’t you go over and check it out before you come down.”
Hallway Diaries Page 20
