Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? (13 page)

“That wasn't very nice of her,” Vivvy said, also teasingly.

“We all thought you knew. It's amazing that one of us didn't say something about it sooner,” said Pia.

“Of course you thought I knew. I mean, if the four of us traveling together to Hawaii wasn't enough of a tip-off, then this morning should have been. I guess I SO didn't want it to be true that I refused to see it when it was the most obvious thing.”

“But why is it so upsetting? Aren't you used to parents dating from your mom? At least a little?” Pia asked.

It was a good question. I had to think about that for a long time before I came up with the answer.

“Well, I live with my mom. I'm not thrilled about sharing her with someone, especially not Horse Ass, but at least she's always around. But my dad—I hardly get to see him at all. So sharing him with someone is really hard.”

I thought about it some more.

“Plus with my dad still single, it meant there was still hope.” My voice cracked when I said the word hope. “But once my dad gets married, that means it's permanent. That my parents are really never ever getting back together,” I said. And then I started to cry again. Vivvy's eyes started welling up too. She gave my hand a quick squeeze.

“Vivvy? Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think I want to go to Hawaii anymore. I'm just not ready to deal with everything that's changed yet,” I said.

“Are you sure you want to miss out on Hawaii?” Claudia asked.

“And deal with CJ?” Vivvy added.

“I know, I know . . . I know how crazy I sound. It's weird. I didn't want to leave Philly to come here. Then I didn't want to be here. Then I wanted to go to Hawaii. And now I don't anymore.”

“Then you should go back,” Vivvy said. “If being here feels wrong and you don't have to go to Hawaii, then you shouldn't.”

I'm really starting to like Vivvy. Which is pretty convenient now that she might be my stepsister one day.

“I guess she's right,” said Claudia, nodding.

“We'll miss you,” said Pia.

“I'll miss you too,” I told them. “You guys will just have to come to Philadelphia soon.”

By the time I got home, the kitchen was clear of all traces of Danny.

I went upstairs to call the airline, but this time my friendly customer service representative wasn't so friendly. She asked for a seventy-five-dollar ticket-change fee.

“Oh no, that's okay, my mother is a valued customer. I don't have to pay the fee,” I told her.

“That's not how it works, honey,” the not-so-friendly customer service representative responded.

“That's how it worked last time I changed my ticket,” I told her.

“We can't keep waiving the fee as a courtesy. If we did, your mother would stop being so valuable to us,” said the not-so you-know-what, you-know-who.

I thanked her for her time and hung up. Poor Mom—I wonder if she knows that her “friends” at Delta only value her for her money?

Now how am I going to change my ticket back?

I have seventy-five dollars saved up from my allowance, but I have no way of getting it to them. If only I could promise to give it to them as soon as I get to the airport. Or fax it to them. Or put it in an envelope with a note to the mailman asking him not to hold the envelope in front of the light to see if there's any cash inside for him to pocket.

Oh, it's Jeremy IM'ing me. Please hold . . .

 
Logged in at 9:25 PM, PST

Dear Lynn and Fippy of the cat world,

I can't get Sam to answer her cell. I might be out of options. If only I could just tell my dad the truth and ask to use his credit card. But that could never ever happen. I could never ever hurt his feelings like that.

What would I say? “You know how I was going to go on an all-expenses-paid whirlwind holiday to luxurious Hawaii with you? Well, as soon as I realized that Danny was your girlfriend, I changed my mind and decided I can't stay one second longer. Can I have seventy-five dollars to change back my ticket, please?”

I don't think so.

I told my father that I decided I want to go back to Philadelphia for New Year's and that I needed to borrow seventy-five dollars and he said okay and then he gave it to me.

Isn't that great? All I have to do is eat gefilte fish and it's New Year's Eve, Philadelphia style.

 
Logged in at 10:28 AM, PST

 
1:07 PM, PST

Sorry about that last entry. I was rushed to call the girls and invite them over for dinner tomorrow night so I could see them before I leave.

What happened was that my dad asked me to go grocery shopping with him, so I did. But instead of going in the direction of the Pathmark like we always used to, we went in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” I asked him just as the car was slowing down in front of a parking spot. He pointed to a store across the street.

“To Off-Track Betting?” I asked.

“No, silly,” he said, moving his finger a hair over to the right.

“Kosher Kitchen?!” I asked, my voice cracking, my eyes brimming with tears.

He nodded. The tears spilled over. I made those embarrassing hiccupy noises you make when you can't catch your breath.

“Aw, don't cry, Raisin,” he said, brushing some tears away from my eyes. “Kosher food isn't that bad. Tastes just like chicken . . .” Which made me laugh. Which made me cry even more.

“I take it that's not why you're crying?”

“Are we shopping for kosher food because of Danny?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “Tomorrow night is the fourth night of Hanukkah. She wants us to come over and light the menorah with her. Is that okay?”

“Well . . .” I started, as I was thinking about what to say. “It's just that everything's changing so quickly.” Then I told him everything. How I refused to see that Danny was his girlfriend even though it was so obvious and how embarrassing it was to need Vivvy to explain it to me.

“I understand how all this could be upsetting. You've been through a lot of changes these last few years. But I'm not sure leaving is the answer. Why miss out on Hawaii? You were so excited about it.”

“I can't explain it. I just want to be in Philadelphia for New Year's.”

“Okay, Rae,” he said. “I understand.”

And he looked like he really did.

Unfortunately, that's where the understanding stopped.

“So can I borrow seventy-five dollars to change my ticket back to Friday?” I asked.

“SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?! To get on the exact same flight we already paid for the first time around? Do you see how ridiculous that is? If only you had waited a bit before changing the tickets.”

I knit my brows to look like I was considering this.

“I can see how you might think it's ridiculous,” I said. But the truth is that I don't really get it. I'm saving him all the money he'd have spent on the Hawaii ticket. So why worry about seventy-five dollars? It's only a loan anyway. That's what's wrong with adults these days.

In the end, he agreed to lend it to me if I promise to try and have a good time at dinner tomorrow night.

I promised. Pia, Claudia, and Vivvy are going to be there, so how hard could it be? Besides, trying is the easy part. It's succeeding that always trips me up.

 
PS—It's been three days since I've spoken to CJ. I'm not sure if I'm

A. Mad at him for not calling me

B. In trouble for not calling him

C. Both

D. Neither

E. Perhaps talking to a meteorite would help me figure it out.

 
Logged in at 11:29 PM, EST

 
11:45 PM, PST

Happy Hanukkah, My Israelite Kittens,

I hope this won't come as too much of a shock to you, but I've decided to convert to Judaism.

My reasoning is twofold:

Forgive me if I don't stay and chat. I'm a bit schnookered, and I need to get to bed before I lose my balance and fall out the windo

Dear Lynn and Fippy,

Ooh, my head . . .

Um . . . never mind.

 
8:16 AM, PST

I feel so much better. Like a person again . . .

Now where was I . . . ?

Oh, right—converting to Judaism . . .

Maybe ix-nay on that plan for right now. It could get pretty complicated. . . .

But that Hanukkah celebration dinner? I must say, we had such a good time. . . .

We all met at Danny and Vivvy's house. Before we could light the Hanukkah menorah (those candelabras with nine candleholders) we had to end the Sabbath. Which is done by saying a blessing over wine.

So we each had a little glass of wine, and even though it wasn't much, we all got a little tipsy over it. Maybe none of us had enough to eat that day. Or maybe we all just poured an extra glass when no one was looking.

Then we lit the menorah and Danny and Vivvy sang the blessings, which were very pretty.

And then we sat down to eat. Gefilte fish and chicken but also potato pancakes, which are traditional for Hanukkah.

We started to notice the wine's effects when Vivvy began singing the blessings again, but really loud this time and for no apparent reason. Then Jackson sang along with her even though he doesn't know Hebrew. He just repeated the words a fraction of a second after she said them. I must say, it sounded authentic to me. Then we all started doing it until my dad said, “How 'bout some real music?” and got The No Way Josés' CD out of the car.

When he put it on, Vivvy said, “I was wondering where that CD went,” and my dad said back to her, “You lent it to me, missy!” and my heart sank for a second because I was jealous that they had their own little private joke. But only for a second because then we all started dancing to the music for a really long time. Even Danny! And believe me when I say, the lady's got some moves.