Anytime Soon (10 page)

It was a challenge, but I kept her on the phone until I got to her house.

“I'll call you back in a few minutes,” I said.

The Beats' kitchen door was unlocked. When I walked in, Irma, the housekeeper, was standing there in a bathrobe and a head scarf. I hadn't seen Irma in a long time. She had big brown eyes and smooth, dark, Nigerian skin.

Irma had been with the Beats for almost twenty years. She hugged me and offered me food, which I declined. I climbed the stairs to Sophie's room.

Sophie was still on the floor of her huge, walk-in closet, staring up at her clothes. When I came in, she looked up and smiled. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and her mascara was smudged. Sophie's closet was the size of my entire bedroom. One wall was filled with shoes, another with jeans, a third with dresses and shirts, and the last with accessories, handbags, and photographs of herself with Catie and me. Her closet was the only organized thing in her life.

As I looked down at her, slumped on the floor, I thought,
How
can someone with so much feel like they have so little?

“Where's Carmen?” I asked.

“Probably getting Botox injections. Who knows?”

“Where's Terry?”

“He doesn't live here.”

“What?” I asked in shock. “He moved out?”

She looked exasperated. “No,” Sophie said. “He didn't move out, but because of work, he's never here. And all
she
does is drown in pilates and Botox.”

I sat on the floor next to her. She was quiet for a few moments.

I thought for a moment about asking Mom to talk to Carmen, but then I reconsidered. I remembered that Carmen suspected everyone of fooling around with Terry, including the maid and even my mom. If I recalled correctly, my mom told me about a shouting match she and Carmen had one July 4th holiday. Carmen called Mom a “plump dinner maker and kid taxi.” Not to be outdone, my mom had called Carmen a “wannabe.”

I never told anybody, though, not even Sophie. She wouldn't have been able to handle it.

“Sophie,” I asked, “how often do you get high?”

I spoke slowly because I knew this was a sensitive subject with her.

“Don't come at me like that, Anaya.”

“I just asked you a simple question, girl. Why are you all mad?”

I got up and walked out of the closet.

She walked back in the room and stood directly in front of me.

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” I suggested, trying to distract her.

“No, I don't want anything to eat. I want
you
out of my house.” Her eyes were a blazing red.

“Sophie, I'm sorry if I made you mad. But can't I care about you? Come to my house. Mom cooked lasagna. We can make strawberry Kool-Aid and watch
Dreamgirls.
”

“I have plans tonight.” That couldn't be true. And, if it were, she had no business going anywhere in her condition in the middle of the night. Maybe she was worse off than I thought.

“Okay, fine. How about we go to the kitchen and see what Irma cooked?” Sophie seemed to like the idea and followed me to the kitchen.

When we got downstairs, I was surprised to see Carmen standing there, talking to Irma. She looked so beautiful. With her designer jeans and short-cropped hair, she could easily have passed for Sophie's sister. I was so glad to see her that I almost forgot about her not returning my calls.

“Mija!” she said, grabbing me and hugging me hard. “How are you?”

The look of awe on her face made me think about what Sophie had said about Botox.

What exactly does Botox do, anyway?

“I'm good, Auntie,” I said. “How are you?”

“I'm good,” Carmen said. “Look at you! You look great.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

She glanced over at Sophie, who had been standing silently by the door.

“¡Hola, Sophie!
¿Cómo estás?”

Carmen only spoke Spanish to Sophie when she was irritated with her.

“I'm great, Mother. How are you?” Sophie said sarcastically.

Mother?

“I'm good, Sophie,” Carmen said with her thick Cuban accent.

“Where's Daddy?” Sophie asked without looking directly at Carmen.

Didn't she just tell me he was never home?

“Your papa? He's in Florida. You know that.”

Carmen moved closer to Sophie and studied her face.

“
¿Qué pasa con sus ojos, Sofía?”

Sophie backed away, but Carmen walked up to her and grabbed Sophie's chin in her hand. From the corner of my eye, I could see Irma stiffen.

“What are you talking about?” Sophie said.

Carmen calmly repeated her question:
“
¿Qué pasa con sus ojos?”

“Nothing!” Sophie lied, raising her voice. “Okay? Don't be trying to act like you're worried about me and what I do. Nothing's wrong with my eyes. Just leave me the hell alone!”

Uh-oh!

Sophie backed away from Carmen.

It's about to go down.

“I just asked a question,
mija
. You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Well, I was thinking the same thing about you. Have you been getting injections again?”

“Sofía, don't talk to me like that!”

“Talk to you like
what
?”

“Like I'm one of your little friends.”

“I can talk to you however I want.”

“Come on, Sophie,” I said. “Let's go upstairs.”

“No, Ny,” she insisted, putting up her hand. “I have to say this. I wouldn't talk to my friends like I talk to you, Mother, because I have more respect for my friends than I have for you.”

Irma put her hand over her mouth.

“Ny has always been there for me,” Sophie continued, “and she's just my friend. You're my mother, and I can't even get your attention for five minutes. You're always off to some spa appointment, or some stupid fashion show, or some charity something or other. What about your screwed-up marriage? Why don't you try to work on that? What about
me
?”

This is getting out of hand.

“Sofía Inez Mondragón Beat!” Carmen said firmly. “I have done everything I can do to raise you. I have given you everything.
Everything!
You are almost an adult. I should not have to run behind you, trying to figure out what you are doing and who you are doing it with. I made sure you went to the best schools. I made sure you were prepared for college. The rest is up to you.” Carmen took a breath and then launched into her real feelings. “You want me sitting in this humongous house, waiting and hoping one day you will want to spend time with me? You and your father have taken me for granted for years, never thinking about me or wanting to spend time with me until it benefits you. Well, those days are over. Terry is never here, and neither are you. Now that I have found some things to do that interest me and make me happy, you are mad?”

“What interests you? Getting your face frozen so that you look like a statue?”

“What does it matter to you what I do with my face?”

“Because you look like a freak. Why can't you be like Ny's mom? Why can't you cook and be like a real mom?”

“Don't you dare compare me to anyone else, Sofía Inez!” Carmen yelled. “Don't you
ever
do that!”

“Dad's only still married to you because he doesn't want to split his assets, you crazy bitch! All the Botox and working out in the world isn't gonna make him want you.”

Carmen grabbed Sophie, and the two of them fell to the floor.

Carmen shrieked expletives in Spanish, Sophie threw insults at Carmen in English, and Irma and I were screaming for both of them to stop.

Sophie tried to pull Carmen's hair, but it was too short. Carmen had no problem grabbing a handful of Sophie's massive mane, however.

“Bitch!” Sophie screamed, scratching at Carmen's hand.

Irma and I pulled them apart. I put my arms tightly around Sophie, and Irma held Carmen.

“Sophie, stop!” I yelled. “That's enough!”

Deftly I pushed her out the kitchen door and down to my car.

I had seen Sophie and Carmen fight many times over the years, but tonight was by far the worst.

When we got to my house, it was late. Sophie crashed on my bed and slept as if nothing had happened.

I called to check on Carmen.

“Está bien,”
she said. “But I'm tired, Ny.”

Then she launched into some Spanish, but I wasn't able to keep up with her. I knew she was talking about Sophie, so I let her vent.

“I gotta get some sleep,
mija
. Thank you for calling, and thank you for being a good friend to Sofía.”

“Good night, Auntie Carmen,” I said.

“I noticed you called me a few times. Was there something you wanted to talk about,
mija
?”

Um, yeah, about a month ago.

“No, it's fine, Auntie, we can talk about it another time. Just get some rest.”

I wanted to talk to her about Sophie's drug problem, but not at that moment. Too much had happened, and I felt that all three of us were emotionally spent.

SEVEN

P
rofessor Klein asked me three different times if I was sure about my resignation. It felt good to know that the office had valued my help. In a letter from his personal e-mail address, he wished me luck and told me to call if I ever needed anything. The other professors didn't show as much disappointment in my leaving, but they were all supportive and wished me well. I thought I might be sad about going, but I wasn't. I knew that it wasn't the type of work I wanted as a career. To leave them in as good hands as possible, I went over the office basics again with the new assistant and advised her to write it all down.

Over lunch I had an appointment with Judy. I thought about canceling it but decided to go and get a few things off of my chest. Judy was current on my new social life. She knew all about Carl and thought that it was a “step in the positive direction” for me to finally be dating again. She also said that my “aura” was different. I don't know if it is true or not, but I'm sure she would agree that our sessions were a heck of a lot more interesting than they used to be.

“How are things with Carl?” Judy asked me when I had settled down.

“He's not for me,” I heard myself say.

“No? You have said such wonderful things about him.”

“I know. But it's not enough. There's no spark, no butterflies,” I said.

“Oh. You want spark and butterflies?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Is there something wrong about him in particular?”

“No. I can't put my finger on it. I like spending time with him, and he's super nice. And I know he likes me. I just don't think he's the one.” I looked away from her.

I didn't want to talk about Carl anymore, so I changed the subject to Sophie and Catie. I had no idea what to do about either one of them. Sophie was constantly missing in action and Catie showed no signs of giving up her lucrative career. The last time I tried to call her, she said she getting ready for “work” and she'd call me back.

“Sounds like they are going through a rough time. How does that make you feel?”

“Helpless.”

We discussed some ways I could reach out to them without being overbearing and without stressing myself out. I left that appointment feeling heavier than I ever had before. Shortly after I left Judy's, Jeff called to ask if I wanted to take some of my things over to the legal office and get a “preview” of where I would be working. It seemed like a good idea, so I told him I would meet him there.

When I got to his office building, he was waiting expectantly for me on the street. My mood changed immediately.

“Hi,” I said, walking up to him.

He smiled back. I was surprised when he gave me a hug. I hugged him back lightly.

“Have you been waiting long?” I asked.

“I don't know,” he said, smiling again. “It's a little tricky getting inside, Anaya, so I just figured I would wait out here for you.”

“Well, thanks,” I said playfully. “Very thoughtful of you.”

We both smiled as he took out his key.

“I'm excited about your coming to work here,” he said, as he opened the door.

“So am I. A little nervous, but definitely excited.”

He switched on a light and turned to face me.

“You look nice,” he said shyly.

“Thanks. You look nice, too. I'm not used to seeing you in jeans.”

“You like?” he asked, looking down at his pants.

“I do,” I said.

“Well, since I meet your approval in my personal appearance, how about we look around the office a bit?”

I nodded.

Jeff's law firm occupied the whole ground floor of a six-story building. When we walked inside his office suite, it immediately had a homey feel to it. The modern gray and black furniture was pleasant, and there were photos of famous African Americans on all the walls, with potted ferns in the corners, and a large bouquet of bright yellow daffodils on the reception desk. Behind the desk, there were huge chrome block letters that read, “L
AW
O
FFICES OF
J
EFFREY
A
LEXANDER
.”

Impressive.

“There are two other attorneys who practice here,” he said. “There's a legal secretary and a receptionist, and now a case clerk—you.”

I smiled.

“Things are busy around here. You'll be doing everything from court runs, to answering phones, to getting donuts for everybody.”

I was going to ask him what a “court run” was, but I decided to hold that question for later. The work sounded similar to what I did in the faculty office, so I figured my transition would be fairly smooth.