Quartet – Eleventh installment

Ruby

 

There we were, Margo and me, yammering on about Olivia, neither of us knowing an effing thing. Me, stuffing my face with mediocre fish and chips. Had to ask for malt vinegar. Got a blank look. Margo and I were speculating at what Olivia might’ve faced when she got back home. Asking questions in the wind. Had her sister gone to rehab again? Were the kids upset? Was her sister in real trouble this time? What would that mean to Olivia and those kids? Daft.

Feeling like a shit mate, I woke up with her on my mind and kept thinking about her through the morning. Knew I needed to go to the source. When I finally got a break, I rang her up.

“Ruby, it is you. How nice to hear from you.” She sounded like I was throwin’ her a life raft. But she also sounded all stuffed up, like she had been crying or was coming down with something. I told her about my dinner with Margo and how concerned we were about her.

“Ruby, this is kind of you. Of both of you. I am touched.” She blew her nose.

“Pet, if I’d fancied it would make you cry—”

“It is not you,” she said. “I have news. Have you spoken to Zan?”

“No, dear, why?”

“I talked with her this morning and told her—my sister was arrested.”

“Blimey. How bad is it?

“Bad. It is bad. She will spend a year, up to three years, in prison, and I filed an emergency protection order for Matias and Mariella to keep them from being—”

“Wait, wait, what do you mean ‘protection order’? You’re not the guardian of those kids? Not even Power of Attorney? All you’ve been through with your sister? All those times they lived with you and your grandmother?”

“I have not done any of those things.” My abuela was against it. And, Izzy’s been very good lately. When she was not doing so well, I never wanted to offend my sister or make her angry. I was afraid—”

“That she would stop you from seeing the kids?”

“Yes, I suppose that was my deepest fear. She can be cruel, Ruby—”

I could hear her trying to catch her breath. Must’ve been anxious off the charts.

“And they mean so much to me—”

“Of course they do, pet. I know that.”

“But I am not always sure, since my abuela is gone, that I know what is best—”

“Olivia, you know better than anyone what’s best for those kids and you know, too, that your grandmother had a different relationship with your sister than you do. You have to trust your gut. It knows.”

“Thank you, Ruby.” She took a breath, sounded clearer. “Your confidence in me is helpful.”

“You’re welcome. And I mean what I’m saying, you hear me? Now what else?”

“Nothing else. Now I must wait for three weeks until the hearing.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“No, Ruby, I can’t—well, I will possibly need your advice about my niece and nephew’s financial futures, if you are agreeable.”

“Of course. You have money to invest?”

“Oh, Ruby, it is complicated. I have my abuela’s inheritance. She was frugal and wise and left a substantial amount. I simply deposited it into a savings account. It has been impossible for me to decide what to do with this money, as I was feeling lost without her guidance.”

“I understand. Doesn’t sound hard to get sorted.”

“But there is more: she left nothing to my sister, and that caused me guilt. I gave some money to Isabella, believing it was the thing to do. But I can now see that was a mistake. I might have been responsible for—”

“Wait, wait. What a lot of bollocks. Surely you’re not claiming to be responsible for your sister’s relapse? And her arrest?”

“Not responsible, but possibly I enabled her.”

“No effing way. Your sister has always been a few sandwiches short of a picnic, hasn’t she? And you’ve had those kids to consider. I’m betting you’ve spent plenty taking care of them, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but they needed things. I could see that. Now that they are with me, and if I can secure that, I believe that helping them to have an education and a chance for a good life will be the right thing to do.”

“Listen, love, think about this: your ability to be a part of those children’s lives could’ve been balls up by an addict’s whims. If she hadn’t been arrested, she could’ve decided to take them and move to Timbuktu, couldn’t she? And you would’ve had no legal recourse.”

“I suppose you are right.”

“Of course I’m right. Look, I’m no lawyer, but if your sister is headed to prison—even if not—you have to get custody. Look at this as your wake-up call. Let’s get that done before you start making arrangements to send them to college. Horse before cart, right? Do you see what I mean?”

“I do. You have reminded me that I have been too trusting.”

“I love that about you, sweet woman. Don’t ever stop. Now, it seems like it’s time to talk to Matias and … what’s your niece’s name?”

“Mariella.”

“Right. The two M’s. Should’ve remembered. Still knackered from lack of sleep. First things first, okay? Then I’d fancy a chat with you about trusts and college funds and all that lot after this calamity is over. You good?”

“I am, Ruby. I have planned to speak with them this evening. It will be difficult. I have to tell them their mother is in jail. We will have much to discuss.”

“Yes, you will. And you’ll handle it with your usual grace, dearie.” I could see that one of my long-time clients was checking in with the receptionist and she was frowning and clutching her purse to her chest. Not a good sign. I started pulling up her account while I wrapped up my conversation with Olivia.

“How’s everything else, Livvy? You asserting yourself any better at work?”

“I asked Mr. Drakos for some assistance with an attorney, and he was eager to help.”

“So proud of you. Next you’ll be taking an actual vacation.”

“You sound like my assistant.”

“Ah, there’s another voice of reason being a nudge, is there? Just so you know, pet, Mr. Drakos helps you like he does not only because he’s a nice man, which he may well be, but also—are you ready for this? He needs you. You’re important to him. Essential even. Do you hear me? We worker bees? We’re runnin’ things, not the bosses. Don’t forget it. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, yes, I am, but also I can hear that you are busy, my dear friend. You, too, are needed. I will advise you when this matter is resolved, I promise.”

“You better. And think about what I said.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

“Ta.”

Later in the day, I thought about our chat, Olivia and me. Didn’t seem like my bloody problem with Alan was all that pressing. Blimey, she was dealing with real problems—sister in jail, no less, about to adopt a couple of teenagers. Who would invite that? And there I was, all sixes and sevens over whether to get married or not. Although, when I put it that way, it was a bit of a big deal, wasn’t it?

 

 

Olivia

 

Cafecito was a Cuban restaurant that Abuela had introduced us to. She had been adventurous—finding delicious food as well as kind and talented people who would speak with her in Spanish all over our Pilsen neighborhood. Our waiter greeted us warmly and said how sorry he was that Abuela was not with us. He offered menus, but we did not need them. Matias was especially fond of their ropa vieja, and Mariella never failed to order picadillo, even though her brother had become an expert with this dish. I liked the manner in which this restaurant prepared rice and beans, and we ordered tostones to share, something I seldom make.

After we had ordered, I began, “While we wait for our food, there is something I must tell you. Something upsetting.”

“Is it about Mom?” Mariella asked.

“Yes, mi amor, it is about your mother.”

“Does it involve that man who came to the house?” Matias wanted to know.

“Yes, he is involved as well.”

“What man?” Mariella asked.

Matias ignored her and said, “He was a cop, wasn’t he, Aunt Olivia?”

“He was—is—a police officer, and his news was not good.”

I told them about their mother’s arrest, and Mariella stared with her hand over her mouth as I spoke. Matias, frowning with concern, put his arm around her shoulders, and they waited for my news.

“Have you seen her?” Mariella asked.

“I have not. She did not ask for me.” I handed Mariella a tissue. “But, Mr. Rivers—the officer who came to our home last night—assured me that she was safe. She will be uncomfortable without her drugs right now, and possibly under medical care. I do not wish to see her.”

In their eyes I could see understanding. It must have been true that they had felt this way many times.

“So, we don’t have to go see her either?” Mariella again.

“Not yet, no.”

“But if we want to, can we?” Matias asked.

“Not just yet, but at some point, yes, of course you may.”

“I don’t want to,” Mariella said, and Matias looked sharply at her. “We can stay with you like always, can’t we?” she asked.

“I have petitioned the court for an emergency protection order which will allow you to stay with me. Social Services will be in our lives, but they will not be removing you from our home.”

“Was that a possibility?” Matias asked.

“Yes, dear, I suppose it was. Minor children of parents arrested by police are usually taken by Family Services for their own safety, but the officer advised me to file this morning before they knew of your situation.”

“But it’s temporary?” Matias asked.

“Yes, it is, and that is something I want to talk with you about.”

Our fried plantains were served at that time, and we waited silently for the warm plates to be set in front of us. Their faces reflected doubt and fear. Mariella was chewing on her bottom lip as I had seen her do, and Matias was twisting his napkin. My sister’s actions had caused these children so much distress.

“What are you going to do, Aunt Olivia?” Matias asked.

“I am going to eat some of this delicious food first, and then I am going to ask you to help me make a decision.”

We all enjoyed some of the plantains. I remembered Abuela’s as being better and felt her presence. When there were but a few left, I did not want to enhance the suspense, so I put down my fork and said, “As you know, I am your aunt by birth, but I have no legal position in your lives. I can make no decisions about your future nor even your everyday welfare. That is an uncomfortable position for me—to have no rights, especially now.”

I took a sip of my wine. “It is my most sincere hope that you are able to visit your mother as often as you like, that her sentence is not too long, and that when she is free again, she will make good choices for her life. I know you both love your mother—”

“But we love you, too, Aunt Olivia,” Mariella said.

“Of course, my darling. I know that. But your mother will always be your mother. I have no wish to interfere with that. However, I have a proposal you must decide upon.” As they stared at me waiting, my stomach was in a turmoil. What would their reaction be? I took another sip of the red wine and remembered Zan holding up her pitcher of Sangria asking who wanted more. Just days ago, it seemed like months. “I can file to be your legal guardian. Permanently. This is only so that I will be able to provide for your future without fear of her … interference.”

They were both watching me with silent concentration. Matias had flattened his napkin. I pressed ahead. “Abuela wanted you both to go to college if that was your wish, and she left some money to ensure that would happen. She left me in charge of that.”

They looked at one another and seemed to agree on something without words spoken. Then Matias said, “Aunt Olivia, we were afraid you were going to say something else. We want to live with you. Not because of Abuela’s money and not just now when Mom’s in jail—always. We do love her, but she’s…” He looked at Mariella.

She spoke up. “Well, for one thing, she doesn’t listen. She’s … somewhere else. Maybe it’s sadness, or that she wants to be … not where she is—”

Matias interrupted. “And she’s not like an adult, especially when she’s drinking—or high. Sometimes she asks us what she should do. As if she’s the kid and we’re the parents. Whatever you need to do so you can be our legal guardian, do it, please.”

Mariella nodded, her eyes wide. “Yes please,” she said. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to. But I also need to be sure that you understand: you might have to appear before a judge to testify that what you have said to me is your truth. If I become your legal guardian, it will be until you are eighteen. I will be in charge of you until then. For you, Matias, that is only two years. But for you, Mariella, well, your mother will no doubt be out of prison before you are of legal age, and even if she is, I will be—”

“Aunt Olivia, please don’t worry. Whatever happens, we’ll be fine,” Mariella said. She looked to her brother.

“It’s true. As long as we’re with you, that is,” Matias said.

“But Matias, there is one thing I must tell you.” He looked frightened. “It is not bad, but it is important.”

“What is it?”

“You have taken on too much responsibility, and it is weighing you down. You are a mirror for me, as well. I am watching myself in you. You have lost your childhood to this illness of your mother’s and I want you to have more fun in your life and not so much work, to spend your final two years of high school being not only a student, but also possibly an athlete on a team, or a member of a club—something like that. Something for enjoyment. Do you think you could do that? For me?”

Our meals were delivered then, and when the server retreated, Mariella said, “Let’s say grace.” We held hands. “Thank you dear Lord for this food and for our Aunt Olivia who wants to take care of us and wants Matias to lighten up, which I totally agree with, by the way.” She looked up and grinned at me. “and who wants to be our guardian, not just for this crisis with our mom, but for all time. Amen.”

“Amen,” Matias said.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and said a silent prayer of my own. We ate then, and all three of us were lost in our own thoughts. I had no regret, but I remained fearful that Isabella would be angry—at me, surely, but with her children as well. That would break my heart.

As for the two of them, I assumed they were thinking about their mother. But it was Matias who asked, “Hey, Mare, whatever happened with your friend Julie?” Then we received the latest news about Mariella’s friend with the faithless boyfriend. Matias teased his sister with a gentleness that warmed my heart.

 

 

Margo

 

Bobby’s graduation went the way most do—long. It was saved by the weather. If it doesn’t rain, and it didn’t, you can’t beat Miami in December. Especially at 10:00 a.m. We went to brunch with two of our son’s friends and their parents—a buffet with enough food to save a small country from starvation, were we able to get it to them. I settled on eggs benedict, since I definitely never made that at home. As usual, what Ron got looked better, and I found myself stealing some of his stuffed French toast. The syrup was even warmed.

One of the boys, Patrick, was openly gay. He was funny and sweet, and his parents were crazy about him. He was quite thin and his mother kept piling food on his plate, especially bacon. He kept swearing he was a vegan, but she would hear none of that. He just smiled at her and rolled his eyes and slipped the bacon to his father.

Bobby’s other friend, Malcolm, brought his girlfriend, Mariah, who had another year to go before she graduated with a degree in physics. She started with dessert, several kinds, and she fed bites of her cheesecake dribbled with raspberry sauce to Malcolm. He looked like he’d won the lottery. She chatted with me about hair, of course, once she found out what I did. I vetoed her idea of a perm, something I was sure would be a terrible mistake with her thick hair.

I wondered where her parents were, and quietly shared my concern with Ron during one of her trips to the buffet line for more baklava, her favorite. He adamantly encouraged me to stifle my curiosity, so I reluctantly refrained. “What if they’re dead?” He whispered to me. Something I hadn’t thought of. I did ask her what she would do with a degree in physics, and she said, “A lot.” I was glad she didn’t elaborate, since I barely knew what physics was. Besides, some nice waiter kept refilling my champagne glass, and I wasn’t tracking well by then. By the time we finished eating, Mariah had invited all of us to her graduation. It was a fun day, and we all lied and promised we’d stay in touch.

After brunch, Bobby had plans with his friends, which was to be expected, so having a talk with him didn’t happen—in fact it didn’t happen the next day either. Even though he lived in the dorm on campus in the same city we lived in, we hadn’t see much of him. His part-time job selling smart phones and tablets and other gadgets I didn’t understand kept him busy on weekends, and even busier for the holiday rush, as it was now. In spite of his busy schedule, I was determined to talk to him, and I got him to make a commitment to skip eating in the mall one night and have dinner with us.

“No problem,” he said. “I’m always available for home cooking, as long as dad makes it.”

Ron made slow baked salmon, rice pilaf, and asparagus, some of Bobby’s favorites.  When we finished dinner, I nudged my husband under the table. We had agreed, albeit reluctantly for him, that this was the moment.

“Listen, Bobby, your mom and I … well actually I … need to talk to you about something that might … well, not be pleasant or what you want to—“

“Are you two getting divorced?”

It was a question I hadn’t resolved for myself, until that moment. “No. What? No. Why did you think—”

“Okay, here’s the deal: if you haven’t lost your jobs, you’re not getting divorced, and neither one of you has stage two, three, or four cancer, I don’t want to have this discussion. In fact, I’m sure I don’t. If you guys are okay, I’m okay. Can we go with that?”

The two of us sat there stunned—and grateful, I suppose. What to make of that? He knew all along? He suspected? He found out at some point and decided to stay quiet? In the end, I wondered why any of those questions mattered, I wasn’t willing to pursue it further, and the expression on Ron’s face reflected the same.

But he had more. “I’m going to ask you to not tell Jon what you’re going to not tell me. Okay?”

We both nodded dumbly.

“I’m glad.” He paused, thinking. “Jon—well, he’s not me, as you know. We both love you; hopefully you know that, and we love Christmas with you. I’m selfish enough to not want that spoiled any more than it has to be by adding his fiancée. Okay?”

We looked at each other with something like incredulity combined with admiration. What a kid.

Ron cleared his throat and said, “Okay, Bobby, so it’s settled. You don’t want to know we’re buying a fake tree this year.”

How could I divorce a man like that?