Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? (8 page)

“Danny? I don't know him. Is he another friend from your Divorced Dads group? I really liked that other guy—what was his name—Franco? I loved the way he could fit an entire hamburger in his mouth at one time,” I said, giggling. “Can Danny do that too?”

“I'm not sure, Swami. We'll have to ask her.”

Her? I wondered. Did he just say her? What kind of her is named Danny?

“Her?” I asked. “Did you just say, ‛We'll have to ask her'? What kind of her is named Danny?”

“It's short for Daniela.” He tugged at my chin and looked me in the eye. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking very serious.

“I'm fine,” I answered. Though I'm not sure he believed me. The truth is, I wasn't so fine. I'm hurt that he didn't want to save the boat trip for just the two of us. And a little embarrassed that I took for granted that he would. It just feels like now everyone here has someone who's more important to them than I am. And my dad—I just thought he'd always put me first.

But I don't want him to know I feel this way. Because that would hurt him. And I really don't want to do that.

What a day this has been. I'm going to call CJ. Maybe he'll say something to make me feel better. The only catch is that in order for him to say something to make me feel better, he has to actually say something. Well . . . here goes . . .

CJ Mullen . . . you are about to receive a phone call . . .

I couldn't reach CJ and I still can't reach you guys, so I IM'd Jeremy. He told me that you two and CJ are all at Black Christmas rehearsal.

Lynn, I've got to hand it to you. I think being your boyfriend taught him a lot. He totally got what was bothering me and made me feel a million times better.

Observe:

(An IM conversation between Raisin Rodriguez and Jeremy Craine—a cut-and-paste job.)

 
Lynnsy, I guess it must be true what they say. That behind every good man is a good woman.

Hey—is it okay with you that I showed you the IM convo I had with Jeremy? I mean, you're over him and everything, right?

 
7:11 PM, PST

What did Jeremy say to make me feel better? C'mon, Fippy, work with me . . .

That joke he made about Vivvy's name—Siobbo whatever. It was hilarious. Tremendously clever, yet extremely witty. He really hit the nail on the head. It's hard to feel angry at someone who's been named after a typo. That can't be a good thing.

From now on, whenever she says something a little mean or whenever my plans have to change because of something she wants to do, I'll remember that she was named after a typo and I won't feel as bad.

And as far as Danny goes, I highly doubt she's my father's new girlfriend. He's really not the “new girlfriend” type.

I guess there's no way I could be positive of this without proof, so I'll look into it tomorrow when I meet her. But in the meantime, I'm pretty sure she's not.

 
7:12 PM, PST (and 56 seconds)

For a fifty-six-second conversation, I'd say we covered a lot of ground.

 
Me: Hey, CJ, how are you?

CJ: Good.

(Pause.)

Me: So, I'm here in Berkeley.

CJ: Yeah, I know. I recognized the area code.

Me: Really? How?

CJ: Because I know all the U.S. area codes by heart.

(I start to cry. Probably because I'm sad about everything that's happened today. But possibly because my boyfriend memorizes area codes.)

(Another pause. I'm not sure if it's because CJ doesn't notice that I'm crying or doesn't know what to do or say about it.)

Me: In case you're wondering why I'm crying, it's because I've had a terrible day. Pia and Claudia have a new best friend, Vivvy, and it looks like she's going to be spending every minute with us. And my dad has this new friend named Daniela and she's coming on the boat ride with us tomorrow night, so we don't even get to spend that time as just the two of us. And I know this isn't really the same thing, but even this place called House of Pies changed their menu and NOTHING is the same anymore.

CJ: My violin teacher redecorated her house once, and for the first month afterward I tripped on the umbrella stand every time I went for a lesson.

(Pause while I try to remember why I like him. I remember his eyelashes and his cinnamon scent. Which doesn't do me much good as neither can be transmitted through the phone.)

CJ: I guess I've run out of things to say. Bye.

Me: Okay, have fun at Black Christmas. Bye!

Oh, well, it was good to hear his voice, anyway. Though even that was touch-and-go until I figured out that I needed to press my ear really close to the receiver.

At least I have Jeremy's joke to keep me going. HA! TYPO!

I feel better already. Guess I'll go see what the typo wanted.

 
7:54 PM, PST

Maybe she is nervous. I guess life as a typo will do that to ya.

Anyway, the Typo wanted to know if I wanted to meet “everyone” to go ice skating later tonight. And by “everyone” she means Pia, Claudia, and Jackson, her boyfriend.

I CAN NOT WAIT TO SEE THE POOR BOY WHO CALLS VIVVY SIOBHAN TYPO HIS GIRLFRIEND.

 
10:53 PM, PST

Once upon a time there was a girl. And when that girl turned thirteen, she got her period. As if that wasn't traumatizing enough, the girl used tampons and made the mistake of following the instructions that come inside the box. The ones that say, “Use a mirror to guide you.” The girl was so shocked by what she saw she had to write about it on her secret blog—the one meant exclusively for her friends Pia and Claudia. The only way to describe what she saw was to compare it to the pink and wrinkly face of their former school librarian, Mervis.

One day, everyone in her school found out about this comparison and decided it would be funny to call the girl “Mervis” as a joke. But jokes aren't funny to the person who's at the butt of them. In fact, they are painful and humiliating. So the girl was very sad until the Mervis-calling stopped. This made the girl very happy.

Until someone called her Mervis once more. And the girl had to go through the pain and humiliation all over again.

The end.

Sad story—isn't it? And the saddest part of all? It's not a story. It's true.

When I first got to Bay City Ice Skating Rink, Pia and Claudia were the only two people there. I got on my skates, and the three of us went out on the ice and pretended we were in Ice Capades like we always do. Pia and Claudia pretended to be ice dancers because they're pretty good skaters, and I pretended to be a clown because I'm not that good and the clowns fall a lot.

One time I fell, and Pia and Claudia each grabbed an arm to help me up. Then we skated for a while with our arms linked, and I could tell they had something they wanted to say.

So I decided to make it easier on them.

“May I help you, young ladies?” I asked.

“Maybe it wasn't the best idea to surprise you with Vivvy. Maybe we should have prepared you instead,” Pia said.

“Especially since she can take some getting used to,” Claudia added.

“You know that about her?” I asked.

“Totally,” said Pia.

Hearing this made me feel a lot better. In fact, I wasn't even feeling angry at her anymore. Maybe because it was a sign that Pia and Claudia didn't necessarily like her better than me. Since I was feeling better about my friendship with Pia and Claudia, I decided I would talk to them about CJ.

“I need to tell you guys something before she gets here,” I began. “I'm starting to wonder about CJ. I mean, his weirdness didn't used to bother me, but now it's kind of starting to. Maybe it's because we're three thousand miles apart, and I can't see his face, so the weirdness doesn't get balanced out by the gooourgeoussssitttttyyyyy—” I lost my footing and went down again. Flat on my butt.

“Whose gorgeousity?” I heard someone say as Pia and Claudia reached down to help me up. But the only other person on the ice besides us was some girl spinning through the air. As she landed perfectly on her left foot and finished off with a final twirl, I was able to see her face. It was Vivvy, with an acute case of professional-ice-skater-itis.