“Just the usual, I guess. It’s lonely facing the holidays being separated. I’m a little worried about money. That sort of thing.”
“No te preocupes, mi’ja. I got the answer for your problems.”
“You do?”
“Heck, yeah. You bring the little one over to my house on Christmas Day. My Manny’s gonna be there. He’s doing real good with his accounting business. Time he settled down. Nice girl like you, so pretty, who knows?”
Melanie had met Hector’s Manny, and he wasn’t for her. He might be making money as an accountant, but the boy’s heart was still in the block. Which in his case meant he was a little too into girls with fake boobs and tattoos, who’d cook and clean for him. No thanks.
“Aw, Hector, that’s sweet, but you know I’m not ready. Besides, Manny wouldn’t be interested in somebody with a kid.”
“Naw, he’s fine with that.”
“Well, listen, I’ll think about it. Maybe after some more time goes by,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
She got her mail and leafed through it on the elevator. A pile of bills and a couple of Christmas cards. One of the cards had a San Juan postmark. Melanie ignored her father’s handwriting, and opened the other one instead. It was from Amy Robards, a law-school classmate whom she hadn’t seen in years. Amy had worked briefly at the same law firm as Melanie after graduation. Around the time Melanie went to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, Amy married a senior partner, had three kids in rapid succession, put on forty pounds, and retired to Bedford to chair bake sales. Looking at Amy smiling out from the glossy photo card, ensconced among towheaded toddlers and a dull but steady-looking husband, Melanie was overwhelmed by a bitter wave of jealousy. Not that she wanted to turn back the clock in her own life. She hadn’t liked being married to a two-timer, and Steve was in the process of proving he’d never change. But she couldn’t help envying what this woman had. The contrast was just too stark: Amy so happily settled and Melanie without a clue where her own life was going.
AN HOUR LATER Melanie struggled out of a cab, juggling Maya and a shopping bag in one arm and a briefcase and folded stroller in the other. She pressed the buzzer to her sister’s building with her elbow. It was nine-thirty, ten degrees, with a bitter wind blowing. The door buzzed, and she pushed it, stumbling toward the enormous, graffiti-covered freight elevator. Lofts! Linda was nuts to live down here. Melanie would take uptown any day.
“Gaaa, Mama,” Maya said with a huge, wet smile, all gums and tiny front teeth, as they waited for the elevator. Her pudgy cheeks sparkled pink with cold. Melanie nibbled her daughter’s ear where it poked out from a fleecy hat, eliciting giggles.
“You keep me going, you know that?” she whispered.
Upstairs, Linda opened the door, telephone pressed to her head, and motioned them inside. The bracelets on her manicured hand jingled like chimes. The foyer smelled of sandalwood perfume and scented candles.
“I know, but you owe me, Fab D,” Linda was whining into the phone. “Okay, okay, fine.”
Melanie studied her sister’s outfit with dismay as she struggled after her. Linda had eventually agreed to baby-sit while Melanie went to Screen to supervise the buy. Granted, Linda was a fashion and entertainment reporter on a local cable channel. Given her position, she hardly stinted on the Puerto Rican glam. But even she wouldn’t wear skintight gold lamé pants, a one-shouldered white top, and gold stilettos for dinner with baby. Would she?
“Lin, why are you dressed like that? You said you’d give me the location and then baby-sit!”
Linda waved her hand in annoyance.
“Fab D? I lost you for a minute, hon… What, again? You attention ho! How many times can I plug your damn demo? All right, but only because I love your swishy black patootie to death. Okay, baby. Ciao.”
Linda put down the phone.
“Would you take Maya before I drop her, please?” Melanie said.
“Is she clean?”
“Of course she’s clean! You think I don’t wash my daughter?”
Linda took Maya from Melanie’s arms gingerly. “Don’t get so offended. She got strawberry jam all over my white Michael Kors sweater last week, you know. Thank God I suck up to the guy at the dry cleaners.”
“What were you doing wearing white to baby-sit anyway? And why are you so dressed up now? You said you’d watch her so I could check out this nightclub. I told you, it’s work.”
Melanie stuck the stroller in a corner and dropped her shopping bag on the dramatic chaise longue that was the only place to sit in Linda’s apartment. Linda’s loft had once been separated into living and sleeping spaces, but she’d recently converted the sleeping area to a huge closet. The living area was now dominated by a canopy bed draped with fringed mosquito netting courtesy of one of Linda’s decorator friends. The walls were painted in exotic stripes of lipstick red and gold. The once sleeping alcove, now closet, was divided off with elaborate gold draperies tied back with silk cords, continuing what Melanie thought of privately as the bordello theme.
“My friend Fabulous Deon, he deejays for Expo sometimes. I know he can get us into Screen, but he won’t go unless I go,” Linda said.
“This is law-enforcement business. You can’t just tag along, and neither can he. All I need is the location of the club and the password.”
“Are you arresting somebody?”
“No, nothing like that. Just poking around. But still, I’d rather keep you and your friend out of it. You never know. It could get dangerous.”
“They know us at Screen. Nobody’s gonna bother us there. Besides, there is no password. It’s a velvet-rope-type thing, and you won’t get in without me and Fab D by your side to say you’re fly.”
“So what am I supposed to do with Maya? It’s way past her bedtime, and I can’t take a one-year-old to a nightclub.”
“Relax, chica, I took care of it. Mom’s on her way over here right now. She’ll take Maya back to your place and sit with her as long as we need,” Linda said.
“How’d you arrange that?” Melanie’s mother was even less interested in baby-sitting than her sister was.
“I’m telling you, ever since she started dating that widowed minister, she’s very familia-oriented. She’s trying to convince him she’s marriage material. Unlike the rest of us.”
“Speak for yourself. I was good at being married. It was my husband who fell down on the job,” Melanie said wistfully.
“Oh, my God, that reminds me! I saw Steve in a club this weekend. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. He was with-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Melanie said, shaking her head decisively.
“No, really, it was definitely him. You know, back when you first kicked him out, I was like, Hey c’mon, one little lapse, Mel, give the guy a break. I mean, people cheat, right? It’s not the end of the world. But he’s been on a rampage in the clubs since you two split. I told you about that time my friend Teresa saw him-”
“Lin, stop! Enough already. I don’t need to hear every time he picks up some bimbo in a bar.”
Melanie grabbed Maya from Linda’s arms. She hugged her daughter close for a moment, then put her down and peeled off her pink snowsuit and fleecy hat. A stubby little ponytail on top of Maya’s head sprang straight up. Melanie tweaked it playfully. Maya squealed and waddled away, toddling a few bowlegged steps before plopping down on the floor.
“Why not?” Linda asked.
“Because. It’s not healthy. I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself, okay? Steve and I are legally separated, which was my choice. He’s entitled to see other women, but still, I can deal with him better if it’s not shoved in my face constantly.”