Pieces of Happily Ever After

by Irene Zutell

  “What?”

  He studies me. I feel as if he’s trying to determine whether or not I’m an accomplice.

  Officer Jay’s eyes dart back and forth as he explains to me that Trinity and my mother were spotted by a store manager hiding jewelry and clothing in the back of my mother’s wheelchair. According to Officer Jay, my mother would pick something off a counter and put it in her wheelchair or in a pocket, and Trinity would readjust my mother’s wheelchair while stuffing merchandise underneath my mother’s butt or legs.

  “Are you sure of this,” I say. “I can’t imagine Trinity doing something like this.”

  He gives a weird smirk and an obnoxious chuckle. “So, Mrs. Hirsh, does that mean you can imagine your mother doing this?”

  I huff. “Officer, my mother has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. But I can’t imagine Trinity would . . .”

  “Mrs. Hirsh, I checked your mother’s wheelchair. It was filled with merchandise. Lipstick, blush, mascara, and a pair of stockings.”

  All the things my mother used to buy for herself when she could, I think. I remember as a child, she was always buying the latest lipstick shade and new blush for a night out with Dad.

  Officer Jay continues to study me. “My question to you is, has Ms. Mendoza ever done this before?”

  “Never.”

  Someone is tugging at my leg. It’s Gabby. She nods her head at me. I shoot her a “be quiet” glare.

  “Are you certain? Has she ever come home with expensive gifts for you? For your family?”

  “Never,” I say quickly and with certainty, although as soon as the words leave my mouth, I flash on the sterling silver bracelet Trinity gave me for Christmas. It dangles from my wrist right now.

  “Mommy, what about—”Gabby says.

  “Shh, honey. Not now,” I scold.

  “But I was just going to tell you—”

  “Gabby!”

  Officer Jay bends down, smiles, and looks Gabby in the eye. “So, is this the birthday girl? What are you, sweet sixteen today?” He winks. She giggles. God, is she easy.

  “No. I’m only six.”

  “Six. No! That can’t be. You have to be at least seven.”

  She giggles some more. “No. Six. I swear.”

  “Wow! I thought you were much, much older. You’re such a big girl! Well, birthday girl, what did you want to tell us about Trinity?”

  “My mommy might get mad at me. I don’t think she wants me to talk.”

  Officer Jay pats her head. “Of course she won’t get mad at you, right, Mommy?” He looks up at me with a big grin on his face. “Your mommy looks like someone who always wants you to tell the truth.”

  “Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t,” my little traitor replies.

  Officer Jay nods encouragingly.

  “Well . . . There’s this Claire lady who’s friends with my mom. She gave me a Snow White gown for my birthday and I don’t like Snow White because she eats the apple when everyone tells her not to—du-uh. Mommy said to tell her I like the dress. So I did. But I will never ever wear it!”

  Officer Jay smiles. “Well, that makes sense. You don’t want to hurt this Claire lady’s feelings. I think you made the right decision there.” He smiles hard at her as if she’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “So what about your friend, Trinity?”

  “Well, sometimes she brings home these presents for me when she’s out shopping. Like once she brought me clothes for my Barbies and a magic wand and a crown and lots and lots of candy. Is that okay? Did I do something wrong?” She looks at Officer Jay like she’s going to cry. “Am I going to jail?”

  He pats her head and smiles at her. “No, of course not, sweetie.”

  Then he stands up and looks at me. “You’re sure Ms. Mendoza hasn’t exhibited this behavior before today?” He bites his cheek, like he already doesn’t believe me.

  Hilda. I remember Hilda telling me she fired Trinity for shoplifting, but I didn’t really listen. After all, Hilda kicked out my senile mom for cursing.

  “No,” I say. But I wonder if this cop will track down Hilda and she’ll seek revenge by saying she warned me. I’ll probably be sent to jail for perjury or something.

  Trinity and my mom are sitting in the back of the squad car as if they’re criminals. Only in Los Angeles, where Paris Hilton does time yet O. J. Simpson gets away with murder! I want to scream at Officer Jay for this, but I know if I do, my mother will somehow be locked in the county jail getting a full-body cavity search. So I just shake my head, bite my tongue, and try not to cry.

  Officer Jay tells me he’s just giving them a warning, but next time the store owners will press charges. He says he’s seen this before—caregivers taking advantage of their wards. “It’s an old con game with these foreigners,” he stage-whispers. “I assume you’ll be firing her.” I nod my head. I feel like it’s what I’m supposed to say. Trinity watches me. She looks so hurt and betrayed. She puts her head down.

  Trinity and I hoist my mother out of the backseat while Officer Jay watches, shaking his head. “That’s why I make sure I take my vitamins every day,” he says.

  I smile warmly as if he’s a dear friend. “Take all the vitamins you want. It’s not going to keep Alzheimer’s away.”

  Inside the house, Trinity keeps her head down.

  “Trinity, what were you thinking?”

  “I am so sorry, missus,” she says, shaking her head. “I am so, so sorry.”

  She shuffles off, still staring at the floor. I run to my bedroom and rummage through my jewelry box. Nothing seems to be missing.

  I’d forgotten about the party. Ruth, Nancy, Renee, and Amy are cleaning up while their kids play in the backyard with Celia. I realize that Judy never showed. She had told me she wouldn’t miss Gabby’s party for the world. But lately she hasn’t been keeping her promises, or returning my calls and e-mails, for that matter. I made excuses for a while, but I know what it is. Ever since I’ve quit, she’s distanced herself. I had miscategorized Judy. She wasn’t a friend. She was just an office friend. She doesn’t need me anymore.

  When I first met Judy we had instantly clicked. She was hip and urbane with a wicked sense of humor—the perfect friend, I thought. Now I look at this group with its porn star past, fake boobs, frumpy Disney clothes, migraines—not the friends I’d have ever picked, yet they chose me and they’re perfect. I watch them, cleaning up my mess, chatting and laughing.

  “You guys didn’t have to stay. Thanks so much,” I say.

  “Don’t thank us,” Nancy says, smiling. “We’re still waiting on the cake.”

  Nancy and I light the cake and head outside, singing happy birthday to Gabby. She makes a wish and blows out the candles. I ask what she wished for, but she won’t tell me.

  As we eat the vanilla cake with chocolate frosting, I see Trinity exit the guest house with her suitcase.

  “It’s probably for the best,” Amy says.

  “But she’s such a sweetie,” Ruth says.

  “Ruth, you’ve got to be kidding me, the woman’s a criminal.”

  “She’s great with my mom,” I say. “How many people do you know who can change a grown woman’s diaper?

  “She gets me really cool presents,” Gabby adds.

  “Oh, I bet,” Amy says, turning to me. “Alice, how do you know she hasn’t been stealing from you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t.”

  “You could so easily find someone else. People like her are all over the place. They’re a dime a dozen,” Amy says. “They’ll work for next to nothing. I could have my housekeeper call some of her friends.”

  I think of the night months ago when Trinity rushed over and changed my mother’s diaper and comforted me. I felt like she was a miracle.

  I run after Trinity.

  “Trinity, what are you doing?”

  She keeps walking.

  “I cannot stay here after what I did to you and your family. I am so ashamed.”


  I grab her wrist. “Wait, Trinity. Don’t go yet.”

  “I am so ashamed.”

  Trinity and I sit alone in the kitchen. I pour the Filipino Winona Ryder some chamomile tea.

  “People like your mother when they have that disease of the brain, they put things in their hands. They cannot help it,” she says, her eyes watery. “They are always grabbing. Most of the time, I don’t even see it until I am home. They have jewelry in their pockets or next to them in wheelchair. Most of it is junk. Things a store would never miss. And no one notices. No one looks at old people. Most people are afraid of them. No one says anything, because they don’t want to see them. They don’t see me either. I am just a Filipino lady pushing around old people.”

  She smiles and shakes her head, but she still won’t look at me.

  “Then, I see your mommy doing it at store and I get so scared. Instead of putting it back, I hid it in wheelchair. I didn’t want any trouble. I don’t want to go back to Manila. But I don’t take things. I never steal in my life. I just don’t put things back.”

  If this were Gabby, I’d tell her it was still stealing. I think about the sterling silver bracelet dangling from the chain. I run my fingers over it. Is Trinity lying to me? Did she steal this bracelet? The presents for Gabby?

  “Trinity, if you needed money or things, you could have asked.”

  “I swear, missus, I never take anything for me. I just don’t put back because it scares me to make attention for your mommy. Because I have to bend over and go through pockets and sometimes he screams when I take things away. And then, suddenly, everybody notices an old person. But I leave all the things at the church for the poor—to make sure God doesn’t punish me. Store owners don’t notice, but God does. God sees everything. The good and the bad.”

  I sigh. “Well, these shop owners noticed. They treated my mom like a criminal.”

  “I’m so sorry, missus. You are like family to me. Your mommy is my mommy, too. I love him like I love my own mother in Manila.”

  What do I do? Is she telling me the truth? If I keep her, can I ever really trust her? And what kind of message am I giving Gabby? That it’s okay to steal?

  But if I let her go, will I ever find someone else to change Mom’s diaper? To have the patience to feed her for hours and hours just to get a few calories down her throat? Will Mom even let someone else brush her teeth? Caregivers may be a dime a dozen, but there’s no one like Trinity. She loves my mom.

  Unconsciously, I run my fingers along the bracelet again.

  “I buy that for you with my own money,” she says. “I promise, missus. I wanted to make you happy. You so sad at Christmas. It was the money for a present for my mommy, but you seemed to need something more. I knew my mommy would understand.”

  I stare at her. And crazy as it may sound, I believe her. She sees that I believe her and she smiles.

  “Oh, Alice, you are like a daughter to me,” she says. I don’t think she’s ever called me by my name before.

  I laugh. “Trinity, we are practically the same age.”

  She shakes her head. “Age doesn’t matter.” She reaches out her hand to me and holds my face. “You are like a daughter.”

  I can barely speak. “Thank you.”

  5

  Someday My Prince Will Come

  Gabby and I sit at the coffee shop. We order ice cream sundaes with extra mounds of whipped cream. We are celebrating her first commercial, although the celebration has lost its luster after Alex/Xander dropped her off.

  When Gabby arrived home, she was giddy and bubbly. But Alex/Xander’s face registered pure fury. He smiled hard at Gabby. With fulsome cheerfulness he said, “You go play. Let me and Mommy talk for a minute.”

  I imagined that he’d finally been dumped by Rose and was extra cranky.

  I cleared my throat and spoke carefully. “How’d it go?”

  “Oh, you know how it went.” He practically spit the words out.

  This Xander guy was completely insane. Maybe Alex had always been crazy, but I was too close to notice.

  I coughed out a laugh. “Alex, how would I know how a commercial shoot went when I wasn’t even there?” I spoke as if he was a small child I was trying to amuse.

  “It was an embarrassment,” he barked out.

  I nervously scanned the room to make sure Gabby wasn’t eavesdropping. I couldn’t believe he was saying this about his daughter.

  “Well, maybe it just isn’t her thing,” I said.

  Alex guffawed like a crazy man. “You made sure of that, didn’t you? The poor kid begged and begged for this. Rose pulled some strings with the director. And then, you. You go and sabotage the whole thing.”

  I opened my mouth and gagged. Then I said, “What the hell are you talking about, Alex?”

  “Don’t act all innocent with me,” he said. “You know exactly what you did. And you may think you’re hurting me, but you’re just hurting Gabby.”

  I stared at him in complete disbelief. “What?”

  Alex’s eyes bulged. They looked like they’d pop out of their sockets and rip through me like bullets.

  “It’s called fiber, Ally. Give her some. She hasn’t gone to the bathroom in at least a week. And she told me she had rice with dinner last night. What were you thinking?”

  Because Gabby refuses to poop, we’ve always tried to steer her clear from binding foods like bananas, pasta, rice, cheese, bread. But last night, Nancy and I took the kids out for Chinese food. We had been engrossed in a conversation about how to make Nancy’s bar more profitable. I had come up with a plan, including a mom’s night out to bring in new business for them. I also created a publicity campaign. I was so wrapped up in my ideas that I hadn’t noticed Gabby wolfing down mounds and mounds of rice.

  “It’s not like I let her eat rice on purpose,” I said.

  Alex cackled. “Nothing with you is ever an accident, Ally, you know that? You never take responsibility for anything. Well, let that poor girl’s broken heart be on your conscience, not mine.”

  “She looked pretty happy to me.”

  Alex angrily shook his head. “You know what happened? She was totally unfocused. Then instead of saying her lines, she said, ‘The poo-poo’s coming, the poo-poo’s coming.’ She ran off the set. It was a disaster.”

  Oh God, I think. Poor Gabby. My poor baby.

  “The director knows, well, me, so he tried to be a good sport about it. But do you have any idea how pissed he must be? He wasted the entire day. And I can’t even begin to imagine how much money was spent.”

  “Alex, this is not my fault.”

  He glared at me. “This is something she wanted that you were totally opposed to. And guess who won, as usual?”

  My heart pounded and my head throbbed. “What the hell are you talking about? I know this is what she wanted. If I was totally opposed to it, I wouldn’t have let her do it at all.”

  “Well, you let her do it, didn’t you? You just made sure she screwed up so you’d win in the end. This is Ally’s typical passive-aggressiveness. Isn’t it?”

  Gabby skipped into the room, dressed as Cinderella. She was still beaming. She was as oblivious to our anger as she was to the disaster of the shoot.

  “Are you still talking about me? Did Daddy tell you how funny I was? I made everyone laugh really, really hard.”

  Alex coughed as if trying to regurgitate his anger. “Well, give Daddy a big hug. I’ve gotta get going, okay?”

  Alex’s voice shifted from pure fury to pure love. How does he do that? Gabby jumped into his arms and squeezed him. She turned to me. I braced myself, figuring she was about to plead for him to stay.

  “Remember, Mommy. You said you’d take me out for ice cream to celebrate.”

  So we are here, although my head is still back at the house, reliving the scene with Alex. Ever since Gabby stopped pooping years and years ago, Alex has always silently blamed me. He believes I did something egregious during potty training. And he
believed I never gave her enough fiber. He never said this aloud until today, but I know.

  Debbie, our usual waitress, comes over, smiling.

  “How about Gabby comes in the kitchen and helps make her own sundae today? That way she can make sure she gets enough cherries.”

  Gabby nearly leaps out of her seat. “Can I?”

  “Sure.”

  It feels good to be alone—I don’t have to fake merriment for a few minutes. I take a deep breath and survey the walls for the latest artwork, but the walls are barren. I wonder why. I close my eyes and try not to think about Alex.

  Gabby returns holding a tray with two sundaes. She beams.

  “Guess which one I made?”

  I look at them. One is a small sundae with the requisite cherry and a scoop of whipped cream. The other looks like it will topple over at any moment. There’s a mountain of whipped cream that’s weighed down by at least a dozen cherries. Chocolate syrup bubbles out of the sides of the bowl.

  “Wow!” I say. “That looks delicious.”

  She sits down and we dig in. “And guess what else, Mommy?”

  “What,” I say. I can’t remember the last time I had ice cream. It’s more delicious than I remember. I savor each spoonful, holding it on my tongue until it gets warm and melts.

  Gabby shovels in a few spoonfuls before she speaks. “The handsome prince is here.”

  “That’s nice,” I say, smiling. “Is it Prince Phillip or Prince Charming?”

  She gulps another spoonful. Chocolate syrup drips down her face and onto her dress.

  She shakes her head. “No, Mommy. Really. It’s the prince who rescued us.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. What kind of spell were we rescued from?”

  Gabby rolls her eyes at me. “You don’t believe me. But it’s true. It’s a real prince. The prince who rescued me and you. I’m going to go get him.”

  Gabby stands. Her entire dress is dripping with ice cream and chocolate syrup. I make a mental note to douse it with Shout! when we get home.

  “Gabby, sit down. Your sundae will melt.”