Hallway Diaries

by Felicia Pride

  “I want both of you to leave,” Nana said, leading them out of the house. “You obviously don’t fit in to this family.” Giselle got her voice back and begged her grandmother to let her stay. “Please, Nana, I do belong in this family. I’m not like her at all. I never wear synthetic fabrics and I always keep my elbows off the table. Please, Grandmother; please don’t kick me out of the family!”

  Giselle jumped up from her sleep and landed on the floor. Juanita let out one loud snore with a startled gasp, smacked her lips, changed her position, and went right on snoring. “There’s no way I’m going to let you humiliate me,” Giselle said, glaring at her sleeping cousin. She grabbed her pillow from the bed and stormed off to the guest bedroom to catch the few hours of sleep she had left.

  CHAPTER 7

  “How did you sleep, Juanita?” Brian asked her as she sat down to breakfast.

  “Oh, she slept really, really great, right, Juanita?” Giselle chimed in with a big cheesy smile on her face.

  “Oh jes, I sleep berry good,” Juanita said.

  As Giselle passed her father on the way to the fridge, she hissed in a low whisper, “Why don’t you ask me how I slept?” By the look on her face, Brian already knew the answer.

  “So,” Brian said, trying to change the subject, “you girls are going off shopping today?”

  Juanita’s eyes lit up. “Is it berry big, the American shopping mall?” she asked with a mouth full of pancake. “My moh-der tell me der are many stores. She say dat all de—”

  “Yeah, they’re really big,” Giselle interrupted so her cousin would stop displaying the chewed-up breakfast in her mouth. “Hey, I have a fun idea,” Giselle said, proud of her quick thinking. “Let’s play etiquette class!”

  “Eti-king?”

  “No. Et-i—kit,” Giselle said slowly, as if talking to a child.

  “Ee-ti-keet,” Juanita repeated even more slowly with a deep look of concentration on her face. “What means ee-ti-keet?”

  “It’s a class my grandmother made me and my cousins take. It teaches you the right and wrong way to eat.”

  “Jou go to eh-school for dis?” She shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth to make a point. “This is berry easy,” she laughed, exposing the yellow mush in her mouth.

  “Not that simple,” Giselle said, covering her cousin’s mouth with her fingertips. “Lesson number one: never speak with your mouth full. It’s gross. It’s really gross.”

  “Easy, Gigi,” Brian said, looking up from his newspaper.

  “No, this will be fun,” she said to both of them. “Juanita, don’t you want to learn how to eat like an American?”

  “I hardly think Americans can claim sole rights to good table manners,” Brian pointed out. “Besides, not all Americans eat the proper way.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s ’cause only the cool and popular ones do,” Giselle shot back, giving her father a deadly look.

  “I thought you hated etiquette class?” he asked, obviously not seeing the look on his daughter’s face.

  “Dad!” she whispered. “Not helping!”

  Brian sipped the last bit of his coffee, folded his newspaper, and patted Juanita on the back. “I’ll leave you two ladies to your etiquette class, then. Have fun, Juanita.”

  “She will!” Giselle said, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

  Giselle shot up from her chair and set the table in front of Juanita, complete with all four types of forks—dinner, salad, seafood, and dessert. She showed her how to place the large cloth napkin on her lap with the fold toward the waist. She made her practice eating her food without slouching over her plate. “You want to make sure you always keep your elbows off the table. Watch me.” Giselle cut into an imaginary steak and took a bite while keeping her elbows at her side the whole time. “Now you try.”

  Juanita wanted so badly to laugh, but she wouldn’t dare. In the short time she’d known her cousin, she’d seemed dry and passionless. This was the first time she’d seen Giselle so excited about something. She just couldn’t understand why silly rules about forks, plates, and napkins could finally make her come to life.

  Giselle was proud of her work so far. The next step in Juanita’s transformation would be a complete makeover. Those nappy curls would have to go, and perhaps she’d suggest some blond highlights. One of the biggest disasters about her cousin, however, was her wardrobe! As far as Giselle was concerned, that was about to be taken care of.

  “Girls, are you almost ready?” Brian shouted at the bottom of the stairs when Katie pulled in to the driveway.

  “Crap!” Giselle said, still fiddling with the flat iron. “Hey, Juanita, can you go down and tell him I’m still doing my hair? I’ll be down in like ten or fifteen.” Juanita had been ready over a half an hour ago, minutes after Giselle had said they should start getting ready. All she had done was tie up her curls into a puffy ponytail, wash her face, and put on a little lip gloss. Giselle, on the other hand, had tried on three different outfits, squinted into the mirror to make sure every strand of hair was in place, and carefully put on her makeup as if she were performing surgery on herself. Juanita couldn’t understand. They weren’t going to a party; they were just going to the stores. She couldn’t imagine anyone back home spending that much time doing their hair and makeup just to walk down the road to buy some bread.

  “Yisel say in fifteen minute she will come down. She do her hair,” Juanita said as she came down the stairs.

  Brian let out a frustrated sigh. “That means thirty minutes.”

  Juanita went right over to Katie and gave her a big hug, something Katie thought was absolutely adorable. Giselle never hugged her.

  “Okay, Juanita, you have to promise me to pick out whatever you like at the mall,” Brian insisted. “Don’t worry about the price, just have fun.”

  Juanita had never had the luxury of not worrying about prices. Knowing how hard her family worked for the little they had, Juanita was always conscious about how much things cost. “Mira, que linda,” her mother might say, commenting on a cute skirt or blouse she would have liked to buy her daughter, but Juanita would always choose the least expensive outfit, claiming to prefer the fit or color over the pricier one.

  “Jes, sir, I promise,” she said, unsure if that was even possible.

  Giselle waltzed down the stairs in the exact amount of time Brian had predicted. Katie jingled her car keys. “So, we’re ready, then?” she chirped. “I know I am. Let’s go shopping.”

  Brian pecked Katie on the lips. “Thank you so much sweetie,” he said. “Make sure Juanita feels comfortable getting whatever she wants, okay? And while you’re at it, why don’t you get yourself a little sparkly something to go in that new jewelry box of yours?”

  “Oh really, Mr. Johnson,” she purred, cuddling into his arms. “How sparkly are we talking about here?”

  Giselle rolled her eyes. “I’ll wait out by the car.”

  Giselle elected to sit in the back by herself. She really didn’t feel like talking. Besides, Katie and Juanita were the talkers. Katie always drove Giselle insane with her annoying questions and dumb stories, and now Juanita was proving to be even worse! At least now they had each other to nauseate with their jabber. Maybe they’d give her a break.

  Giselle wasn’t exactly overjoyed about spending the whole day with these two. Picking out a new wardrobe for Juanita was more like a job than a thrill. Her only consolation—other than saving herself from the embarrassment of Juanita’s current look—was the new Louis V bag just waiting for her at the store. Giselle settled into the back. She took out her bejeweled cell phone to text her friends and ignored the two chatterboxes in the front. Ohmigod, she wrote, going 2 buy LV bag 2day!!!

  CHAPTER 8

  Juanita was looking forward to seeing an American mall. Her mother had visited many and had painted a picture in her mind of fancy fountains; huge, colorful carousels; high, arched glass ceilings that looked like they belonged in cathedrals; and floor up
on floor of shops connected by long escalators. But Brian’s daughter and girlfriend didn’t shop at malls filled with stores like Old Navy or H&M. They shopped at Americana Manhasset, the Fifth Avenue of Long Island. This open air shopping center was not at all what Juanita had expected, yet she was still awed and humbled by the grandness of it all. The extravagant structures, dramatic lighting, elegant window displays, and well-suited guards at each door both enchanted and intimidated her.

  “First things first,” Giselle squealed when they arrived, showing that rare enthusiasm. She bolted toward the Louis Vuitton shop, leaving Katie and Juanita strolling behind. “Isn’t it gorgeous!” she beamed when they finally caught up and entered the store. Juanita looked at the brown bag and shrugged. For all Giselle’s fuss, it seemed a bit plain.

  “Does it come in an-oh-der color, like pink or purple?” Giselle stared at Juanita with her mouth slightly open and then looked at Katie as if to say “Did you hear what this moron just asked?”

  “No. It doesn’t come in pink or purple.” Idiot, she added in her mind.

  “It doesn’t look berry…What’s so eh-special about dis?”

  “It’s a Louis Vuitton,” Giselle said, raising her voice a bit, “that’s what’s special!”

  “Will that be all today?” said a tall saleswoman with a silk scarf wrapped around her neck. She went behind the register, rang it up, and casually said, “That will be one thousand, two hundred and forty-nine dollars and fifty-six cents.” Juanita actually gasped. Everyone turned their heads to look at her. She closed her mouth, which was open in shock. Did Giselle’s father know how much this silly bag cost? Juanita thought. How many days or hours did it take him to make that much money? Did he come home tired like her father and lie on the couch with his work clothes still on? Juanita understood that Brian was rich; but the whole scene still made her feel sad for him.

  Giselle slapped her dad’s credit card on the counter like an ace of diamonds, and two minutes later she was on the phone with Dahlia. “I got it!” she gloated. “Yup…I just bought it right now!”

  The next stop was supposed to be Barneys to pick out dresses for Nana’s dinner party, but Cartier was right next door and Katie couldn’t resist. She bought earrings twice the cost of Giselle’s bag. In this shop of diamonds and gold, people shopped as if they were buying bubble gum at the corner store. Katie and Giselle didn’t work for this money, and yet they were spending thousands without a second thought. Juanita wanted no part of it.

  At Barney’s, Giselle draped about ten different dresses over her arm. “Come on, Juanita,” she said, “let’s go try these on.” Juanita reluctantly followed her into the dressing room. She was quiet for the first time since she’d arrived in New York.

  “Oh my word! Oh! My! Word!” Katie gushed as Juanita stepped out of the changing booth. “That dress was made for you!” The dress was stunning. Juanita loved the way the material caressed her skin. It was soft and delicate and had no scratchy linings like the dresses she owned. She wanted to twirl around and watch the flowing fabric dance around her legs. Instead, she shrugged.

  “It’s not my eh-style.”

  Katie was stunned. Before Juanita had spoken she thought she was witnessing a real-life rags-to-riches moment. She expected Juanita to light up and spill over with excitement and gratitude.

  “What do you mean? It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “It’s not my eh-style,” Juanita repeated.

  Style? Giselle shouted in her head. You don’t have any style! She sifted through the other dresses on the silver rod, fighting the urge speak her thoughts out loud.

  “Here, try this one on.”

  For each dress she tried on, Juanita managed to find some objection—too big, too small, too long, wrong color, too fancy, too plain. Giselle was flustered and exhausted from running around the store looking for a dress Juanita would agree to. Her frustration level was over the top. Who did this girl think she was? She should be grateful for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to buy a dress that didn’t come from the Salvation Army! What gave her the right to be picky about it?

  “No worry eh-bout it,” Juanita said, refusing to try on any more dresses. “I already say to jou I have bring a dress from my home. My tía Arlene make it for me to go to dee American party.”

  “No!” Giselle begged. She could only imagine what this dress looked like. “If you don’t like the clothes here we can go to another store.”

  The three of them went to Giorgio Armani, Dolce & Gabbana, Lacoste and Brooks Brothers. Juanita walked out of each store empty-handed. No dress, no shirts, no jeans, not even a pair of socks. She wouldn’t budge. By the time they got to Ralph Lauren, Katie and Giselle had given up on her and were concentrating on shopping for themselves.

  CHAPTER 9

  “I’m back!” Alyce chirped over the phone. She had arrived from Paris the night before. “Ohmigod, I am sooo in love with that city! You have got to go with me the next time.” Alyce told Giselle about the gorgeous cathedrals she’d visited, the trendy boutiques, the romantic bridges, and of course the Eiffel Tower. But what she hadn’t done, and had missed terribly, was go to the beach. “I already called Dahlia and she’s bringing the cooler. I have got to get some color on my skin. It’s already July and I have nooo tan lines!”

  Giselle hated the beach. “Cool, I can’t wait,” she lied. Well, only half lied. She couldn’t wait to hang out with her friends and get away from Juanita for a bit. Juanita was always in her space, always talking, always hugging her! It drove her nuts.

  “Hey, Dad,” she said, grabbing a bunch of sodas from the fridge. “I’m going out with Alyce and Dahlia. I’ll be back around seven or eight.”

  “What about Juanita?” he asked.

  “She’ll be fine.” Giselle shrugged, piling cans of Coke into a plastic bag. “She’s studying her English book by the pool.”

  “Did she say she didn’t want to go?” he continued.

  “Dad! I said she’ll be fine. Does she really have to follow me everywhere I go?”

  “You’re taking her, or you don’t go.”

  Giselle threw her hands up in the air. “Are you serious? Dad! I need some time with my friends, and I’m not ready to introduce her to anyone yet!”

  “Why not? She’s your cousin.”

  “She’s weird! It’s embarrassing. Look at the way she dresses. She has all these dumb superstitions, she’s loud, she’s too touchy-feely, just…Aaaah, come on, Dad. I don’t want to take her.”

  At noon, Alyce’s driver pulled up in front of the house. Juanita jumped into the back and bounced on the big leather seat. She couldn’t wait to go to the beach. After their little shopping spree, Juanita had started to feel homesick. The ocean would make her feel better. It always did.

  “I no can wait to meet jour friends,” she said, giving her cousin an affectionate squeeze on her arm.

  “Yeah, this is going to be fun,” Giselle said in a monotone kill-me-now tone.

  Alyce’s Hispanic driver turned on the radio and tuned in to a Spanish station.

  “I lub dis song!” Juanita shrieked, and opened her huge brown eyes even wider. “Jou know dis singer, Juan Luis Guerra?” “No.”

  “He’s a berry popular Dominican singer, ebbry-body know him.”

  “Ojalá que llueve café en campo,” she sang, closing her eyes and dancing in her seat. Juanita felt good. She had been starting to wish she’d never come, but now she felt all her energy and excitement come back.

  They stopped at a red light and the driver turned around. “¿Tu eres Dominicana?” he asked Juanita, who was still singing.

  “Seguro que sí,” she responded with a smile. “¿Y tu?” she continued, hoping he’d say he was Dominican, too.

  “Ciento por ciento,” he said, beaming with pride, then repeated it in English with a heavy Spanish accent. “Wong hundred per seng.”

  He looked at Giselle with a familiarity he had never shown before. “Nunca sabia que tu eres Dom
inicana.”

  She looked at him with a blank stare. “What?”

  Juanita translated. “He say he never know jou were Dominican.”

  “Oh, I am eh-sorry,” he said, thinking he had misspoken. “You look like your frang, I thought you were family.”

  “We are family,” the girls said at the same time—Giselle in English, Juanita in Spanish. They looked at each other with a chuckle and Juanita reached over for a little hug. “Soy familia,” she repeated.

  Throughout the rest of the ride, Juanita and Luis spoke in Spanish. Juanita explained why Giselle didn’t speak the language and told him the whole history—starting with their mothers’ coming to America years ago and ending with her own visit to Long Island now.

  Giselle felt silly sitting there not saying or understanding a word, but at the same time, she kind of liked it. She hadn’t heard a conversation in Spanish since she was five years old, and it made her think of her mother. Giselle curled up in her seat and just listened. A sense of calm fell over her, the same tranquility she used to feel when she was cuddled against her mother’s chest.

  As the car pulled up to Alyce’s house, the peace Giselle was feeling quickly dissolved. She looked at Juanita’s wild hair and her too-tight, brandless capris that made her butt look enormous. She should have tried harder to get her to buy something at the stores, and she wished she’d had time to flat-iron Juanita’s frizz ball before they’d left the house.

  “I no can believe how big deh house is!” Juanita said as they walked toward the door. It was twice as big as her cousin’s.

  Giselle rang the bell. Diiiiing-dooong. It sounded just like the bell in her dream. She took in a deep breath as Alyce opened the door.

  Juanita hugged and gave a kiss on the cheek to everyone she was introduced to, even Alyce’s father.