Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing (23 page)

“I don’t know. I’ve been making dresses since yesterday, I haven’t gone to bed yet. I think a double cappuccino will perk me up.” Scarlet released a stretchy ten-second yawn and tried to sit down, but wobbled until her eyes crossed and she fell to the floor, unconscious.

S
carlet used all her might to lift her eyelids. At first, everything appeared blurry and gray. It took a moment for her vision to adjust, but when it did, Marco stared back her.

“I feel so… comfortable, this bed is awesome,” she said groggily, licking her lips. Her tongue felt bloated and drier than crusty sandpaper. She carefully raised her arm to find an IV attached. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Glendale Samaritan Urgent Care,” Marco answered, holding a cup of water to her mouth. “Drink. You’ve been asleep for two hours. That’s an IV with some much-needed fluid. You’re dehydrated and exhausted. You fainted.”

She leaned her head against the pillow and softly combed her fingers through her hair. The dresses… the tuition, her mind clicked back into place. “I have so much to get done. I feel a lot better, did they say when I can leave?”

Marco leaned over and stroked her cheek, making Scarlet’s heart race in a much better way than caffeine ever did. She placed her hand on top of his to trace the shape of his fingers, feeling the roughness of his skin and taking in his scent. That single moment of bliss helped alleviate the pressure from her mind.

“We can go whenever you feel ready,” he assured her.

“Can you drop me off at the shop so I can help make the dresses?” she asked, already knowing his answer.

He used his foot to tug the wheeled stool to the bedside, and sat. “No, I cannot,” he said without any room for negotiation on her part. “The class has it under control. They made an executive decision for you to go home and sleep. I’m your designated watchdog. If you want to be on your best game to get that tuition money together, you need your rest. Maybe it’s time you try a more traditional method, like a bank loan?”

“No, I still have my school loans.”

“What about your parents or your brother or sister? They must know you’re good for it.”

“I would rather eat burnt polyester than ask them. I’ll figure something out. It’s meant to be. I can feel Manhattan in my system already. I see myself stepping onto the subway train. I can smell the roasted nuts they sell on the street corners. I’m ready.”

Poking his head out of the room to look for the nurse, Marco playfully tapped her feet on top of the blanket. “Let’s get you home. I bet after a long nap you’ll have some ideas.”

For once, Scarlet gave in. At that moment, nothing topped the peace she felt of closing her eyelids and letting her mind drift away like a balloon among the clouds. That is, until her parents busted into the room.

Jeane caught one glimpse of her youngest daughter in a hospital bed and threw her hands up in shock. “What happened, mijita? What did they do to you?”

Scarlet gave Marco a disparaging look, scooted up in her bed. “Mom, I’m fine. I’ve been working overtime and it caught up with me.”

“The doctor said she’ll be fine,” Marco assured them. “I’m taking her home in a little while.”

“Who are you?” Manny asked.

“I’m the one who called. I found your number on Scar’s phone. She fainted in her sewing class this morning and I brought her here. I didn’t know how serious it was, so I dialed.”

“Thanks,” Manny replied. “We can take it from here. Scarlet, you’re coming home with us. I don’t care if you’re thirteen or thirty, you’re still our daughter and we’re getting your life back on track. We’ll get your résumé together this weekend and send it out to Charles’s boss first thing Monday. Accept it: The sewing thing didn’t work, and it’s perfectly fine to give up sometimes. It happens to the best of us. At least you can say you gave it your all.”

“You’re not getting any younger, mija,” Jeane said.

Standing between the IV rack and the blood-pressure machine, Marco began to rock on his shoes. He watched silently as Scarlet gently removed the IV from her hand and swung around to the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to New York next month for my fashion internship. I’m committed to it; I already signed the papers.”

“Oh, great, you signed papers.” Manny sighed as he pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled to find a number. “I’m calling my lawyer. We’ll get you out of it. I heard from your aunt Linda that you don’t even have money to get out there.”

“Dad, no. I’ll get the money.” Scarlet reached for his phone. “Please—”

“Get a grip, girl,” her father boomed. “You’re acting desperate. Have some respect for yourself.”

Marco couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Why are you so hard on her? You should be proud of her. Do you even realize who your daughter is and what she does? She’s an Internet star with thousands of fans who hang on her every word, because she writes articles that inspire people. She’s a gifted artist on the
brink of a successful career. I’ve watched her from afar for the past few years; haven’t you seen any of what she’s doing? Do you know she has been working three jobs to raise her own tuition money for her internship? Anyone else would give up. She’s not asking for anything except maybe for you to say ‘I believe in you’ or maybe ‘What can we do to help?’ or even an old-fashioned ‘Buena suerte.’ ”

Angry and offended, Manny fired back. “Of course I know my daughter. I raised her! And I know she is meant for a better life than what she has right now. My daughter is teaching her class in a rundown record shop because her slave of a boss doesn’t think she is good enough to teach on her property. Scarlet is thirty and doesn’t even own a home or a car. Everything is secondhand. Yet she works three seamstress jobs. She doesn’t have time to visit her grandmother anymore, much less call us to let us know how she is. We love her no matter what. But she has two college degrees and the brain of a genius and turns her nose up at good jobs and her family that loves her because she wants to make clothes? Do you know the odds of making it in the fashion industry? Slim to none.”

Scarlet snatched her purse from the room’s guest chair and when she stood, her eyes pooled with tears. She couldn’t believe Marco had the guts to stand up to her parents and say the words she had always wanted to express but never had the courage. Until now.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” she said, stepping toward her parents, “but it’s not like I’m out partying. It’s been over two years since I made this decision yet all of you ignore it. You want me to fail. I feel like I’m running a marathon, and all along the sidelines are strangers I’ve never even met. They’re holding up glittery signs that say ‘You can do it!’ or ‘Don’t give up!’ ”

She swallowed hard and looked into her father’s eyes.

“And then I see you and Mom and Charles and Eliza on the sidelines too, right by the finish line. I’m going as fast as I can, dreaming about making you proud. As I get closer, I assume that you guys, out of everyone, will have the biggest signs and the loudest megaphones to support me—because you’re my family. But as I run by, I see your signs. And you know what they say, Dad? ‘Give up’ or ‘you’re wasting your time.’

“Every time we’re at family events, no one ever asks me about my work, yet they drag out every detail of theirs. And when I do try to toot my horn, I’m made fun of. So I clam up. You guys make me feel disconnected and unworthy. Imagine how that would feel. It hurts, Dad. I’m sorry that my vision of a happy life is different from the rest of the Santanas’. But I’m doing this. I’m going to New York to have a career I love. If you can’t give me your blessing, please don’t chant me down.”

Jeane bowed her head and left the room swiftly without saying good-bye. Scarlet knew her words hit her hard, but she couldn’t hold back.

“That’s what you think of us?” her father said, his voice cracking. “Sorry to have disappointed you. Good luck, Scarlet. I really hope you get what you want. And no matter what you think, I
am
proud of you.” He pulled her head toward him and planted a light kiss on her forehead. Before he walked through the blue curtain of the room, he tipped his head to say good-bye to Marco.

Her deadlines, the money, the class, now her parents. For a fleeting moment Scarlet wondered if the stupid Johnny Scissors program was really worth it. She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t mean some of those things she’d said but had no idea how to take them back. The more she thought about it, the more she felt her emotions overtake her. She turned to Marco and hugged him as tightly as she could. He held her close and rubbed her back as she unleashed two years’ worth of sobs, frustration, and guilt.

Around lunchtime, they pulled into Scarlet’s concrete driveway alongside two rows of potted petunias. The entire ride home she tried calling her parents’ house but was only met by the answering machine. She wanted to see them, even though she had no idea what to say. If she backed down and apologized, her words would have meant nothing. Yet if she showed up and stood her ground, another argument would ensue. When she entered her house, she saw the blinking light on the answering machine and pressed the playback button.

“Hey. It’s Eliza. What the hell did you say to Mom and Dad? They’re really upset. I’ve never seen them so mad. My advice is to stay away for a while until they cool off. Good job. Later.”

Scarlet erased the message and took a running dive onto her couch and curled up in the corner. “I envisioned that scene with my parents on a regular basis. I thought I’d feel great afterward, but I feel like shit. Why is that?”

“Because the truth is hard to digest sometimes,” Marco said. “They’re mad because you painted a picture and put it up to their face. But I can tell they really love you. They’ll come around when you least expect it. For now, you should go get some sleep. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Scarlet grabbed the tapestry toss pillow from the corner of the couch and squeezed it. “I have so much adrenaline rushing in me right now, I need to be shot with a tranquilizer gun in order to sleep. I feel like getting out of here and doing something to take my mind off everything.”

“Like what?”

“It’s stupid and totally inappropriate after all that’s happened today. Never mind. You’ll think I’m bipolar if I mention it,” she said as she twisted the tassel on the pillow.

“After a day like this, anything goes. What?”

“Can we go on a date tonight?”

“A date?” He expected her to say a movie or a bite to eat, but not “a date.”

Sensing what she read as hesitation, she flipped her hand at him. “See, never mind. I just better go have a conference with my Sealy Posturepedic.”

“No, let’s go,” he said. “But take a nap first. I’ll be back to get you at seven.”

M
ary Theresa spent seven long hours at the record store helping the ladies work on Scarlet’s dress order before returning home. For a class of beginners only a month ago, they proved they could operate as a competent production team—or at least a moderate one. Rosa gave Olivia and her daughter, Missy, cash to buy the fabric while she stayed and drew the master pattern off of Mary Theresa’s Mexibilly Frock. Because of the time crunch, Rosa had to alter the design a bit, but after hearing purrs of praise from the class, she knew the first prototype came out flawless. Rosa then gave Jennifer and Stephanie the go-ahead to trace and cut the fabric, while their mother pinned the pieces. Mary Theresa helped Scarlet’s aunt Linda sew like the wind. There were still dresses to be constructed, but Auntie Linda promised to finish them at home and bring them in the morning so Rosa could show everyone how to add the trims and embellishments. Their reward was when Marco returned from Scarlet’s with the good news about her health. He said she’d be well enough to come in the morning to help finish the order.