17
A Home-Cooked Meal
Maria had to climb the stairs above her garden apartment to get to Sebastian’s. Even though they technically lived in the same building and there was originally a way to get into his apartment through her kitchen, the entrance had long been sealed off. Maria rang Sebastian’s buzzer.
She felt a mix of fear and excitement standing on his doorstep. She never imagined that she’d be bold enough to visit a neighbor—and just a few feet from her own home. She scanned the street behind her just in case Mr. Fox and her mother had decided to return, but the street was empty. Maria shivered. She was suddenly overcome with fear of meeting Sebastian’s family. She almost turned away but—
Footsteps hit the stairs inside Sebastian’s apartment and the shadow of a head darted across the curtains in the window. Then the handle jiggled before the door swung open.
“Hi there,” said a slim woman with brown skin and a head full of puffy hair. She was beautiful.
“Are you here to see Sebastian?” the woman asked, and ushered Maria in. “I’m Sebastian’s mom, Mrs. Goldstein, but you can call me Shanya.”
“I’m Maria,” Maria mumbled. “I live downstairs.” She met Mrs. Goldstein’s eyes and quickly looked away.
“Of course!” replied Sebastian’s mother. She gave a warm smile to Maria.
Sebastian stood at the top of the stairs holding his walkie-talkie. “Come on up!” he called to Maria.
“I’m just cooking lasagna,” said Mrs. Goldstein. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
Maria didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought about how long she could stay while her mother was away. And what was the thing Sebastian’s mom said she was cooking?
“Yes, Mom, she’s staying for dinner,” Sebastian shouted above them. Then he motioned to Maria. “Come up. We have work to do!”
Like a racer that has just heard the sound of the gun, Maria shot up the long flight of stairs to meet Sebastian. When she reached the top, she breathlessly took in the bright space. She was pretty sure Sebastian’s family lived with every light on in the house. The whole place smelled clean, and the wooden floors twinkled with varnish. The walls had been freshly painted, and a family portrait hung in the hallway.
Maria took a closer look at the photo. Sebastian was standing in front of his beautiful mother. A pale man stood behind them like a sea captain. He had a rippled forehead and a turbulent wave of hair above thick-framed glasses.
“Where’s your dad?” asked Maria.
“He’s working, but he’ll be home for dinner,” Sebastian said. “Follow me.” He grabbed Maria by the hand and pulled her down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as they entered, Sebastian shut the door and whispered, “Show me the clue.”
Maria dug in her pocket and pulled out the wrinkled message and waved it at him.
“Where did you get this?” Sebastian said. He grabbed it and dropped to the edge of his bed, where he hovered over the words.
Maria gave a slight shrug before she took in Sebastian’s bedroom. His walls were painted a light blue, like a spring sky, but the ceiling was black and splattered with hundreds of glow-in-the-dark stars. A yellow-painted basketball dangled above Sebastian’s bed. It resembled the sun. Not far from it was a baseball painted red with rings of purple pipe cleaners that Maria guessed was supposed to be Saturn.
There was a bulletin board by the door filled with first place ribbons. Trophies lined the shelves of his dresser.
But more impressive was Sebastian’s window! Maria took a peek outside. The tops of the trees and high-rises poked above the brownstones. Maria couldn’t believe it. It was such a different view from her garden apartment. Sebastian had a whole window in his room, not just a vent in the closet to spy through!
“So the other poem was about poets and artists, right?” asked Sebastian. He took off his cap and massaged his head. “This must be something else to do with them.”
Maria shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know,” she said, falling onto the bed next to him. The two stared at the words for a long time. Maria could smell the aroma of baked lasagna and melted cheese. A long growl came from her stomach. “You have a nice room,” she said to cover up the noise.
“Uh … thanks.”
“Nice planets.” Maria smiled and glanced up.
Sebastian grinned. “I like science. A lot. It’s my favorite subject. Especially astronomy. Black holes, wormholes, stuff like that.”
“What are those ribbons for?” she asked, and pointed to his bulletin board.
“Oh, they’re nothing.” Sebastian leaned back on one arm. “My dad likes them. He’s kind of into me winning ribbons.”
“Are they from school?” Maria was very curious about what it would be like to attend school, surrounded by other students. She wondered if all students got ribbons or if Sebastian was special.
“I won the spelling bee three years in a row at my old school. Another ribbon is for the science fair, and another is for never missing a day of school. I didn’t get sick once while I was in third grade.” Sebastian grinned. “Notice how none of my ribbons and trophies are in sports?” Sebastian sighed. “You’ve seen me try to catch and throw a ball.”
Maria couldn’t help but smile. She was impressed. She wondered what kind of student she would be if her mother let her to go to school.
“You don’t win trophies when you’re homeschooled,” she said softly, and began to fidget with Sebastian’s bedspread. His blanket had vibrant stripes, and the fabric was soft, so unlike the thin gray blanket she slept under.
“But you’re lucky,” Sebastian said. “I wish I could stay home and read whatever I wanted! I would read up on just science if I could.”
Maria leaned back, making herself more comfortable. “It’s not exactly like that. I enjoy science, and I love reading stories, too. But I can’t read JUST what I want to all day.”
“I guess reading stories is okay,” admitted Sebastian. “Especially the true ones.”
“Like what?” she asked. She rarely read any nonfiction, except her mother’s obituaries, of course. She preferred reading fantasies by authors like Lois Lowry, Madeleine L’Engle, and Roald Dahl.
“I like reading about real people,” said Sebastian.” You know, how they lived and what they did.” Then he pointed to his ceiling. “One day I’ll explore a planet.”
Maria was surprised at how sure Sebastian sounded when he said it. It had never occurred to her to plan so far into the future, because she’d never thought much further than her mother’s next con.
“What do you want to be?” asked Sebastian. “You know, when you grow up.”
Maria pictured herself as an adult in Madame Destine’s clothes—a heavy turban and a guilty conscience weighing her down. She knew her mother cared for her, and that was why she had taught her everything she knew about conning. But was it enough? Was Maria ungrateful for desiring something more? She may not have had a window that looked out into the world, but she had a peephole illuminating her mother’s schemes, something that was needed to survive in this world.
“I want to be rich,” said Maria, thinking about all the times her mother told her that was what she should want. But deep down, Maria knew that wasn’t really what she wanted. Sure, she had Edward and this talent for “automatic writing,” but would that make her rich? Was there some secret to a happy life that was better than gold and jewels?
Sebastian sighed. “Then you should talk to my dad. He’s always looking for ways to make more money.”
Maria held up the clue. “It says that he was a student in the message. And he knew Mrs. Fisher while he was alive. Could Mr. Fisher have been Edward’s teacher?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the one who’s talked to her.”
The front door jiggled open downstairs, and a muffled, deep voice said, “Hey, Shanya! Smells like lasagna.”
“Dad’s home,” said Sebastian.
They were interrupted by a knock on Sebastian’s door. His mom poked her head through the opening.
“Dinner’s ready, you two. Wash up and come to the table.”
Maria held the fork in her hand and stabbed at the steaming lasagna on her plate. The gooey cheese and pasta had strange ingredients inside of it that Maria had never seen. Were these vegetables? She glanced at Sebastian for clues on how to eat this meal. He held his knife in his left hand as he sawed the pasta into segments while holding the operation steady with the fork in his right hand. Maria thought that she could manage this.
“Does your mother cook, Maria?” asked Mrs. Goldstein.
“She doesn’t have time,” replied Maria.
“Yeah, she’s pretty busy,” said Sebastian. “Not only is she a psychic but she also runs a nonprofit, right, Maria?”
Maria quickly stuffed a huge helping of lasagna in her mouth so that she could think up an answer, but the hot food burned, and a string of cheese rested on her chin. Her face flushed red with embarrassment.
“Let her eat, Sebastian!” said his mother. “Maria, enjoy your food!”
After a few minutes, Mr. Goldstein cleared his throat. “How long have you and your mother lived in your apartment?” he asked.
Maria shrugged. “My whole life, I guess,” she mumbled.
“I bet they got their place for a steal before the neighborhood blew up,” Mr. Goldstein told his wife. Sebastian’s dad looked burdened and serious, like he didn’t know the meaning of the word fun. Sebastian’s mom, on the other hand, looked like she’d invented the word. She dressed in colorful clothing that made her seem like a movie star.
Mrs. Goldstein shook her head. “You know, I read my horoscopes, Maria, but I’ve never considered getting advice from a psychic. I’ve been meaning to consult with your mother, but I get spooked out by that stuff sometimes!” She laughed and took a sip of water. “I bet you get some interesting visitors!”
Maria swallowed her food. “Mostly widows,” she said.
“Where do you go to school?” asked Sebastian’s father.
“She’s homeschooled, Dad!” Sebastian said before reaching for his milk.
“Wow, your mother must be busy, then,” said Sebastian’s mom. “If she’s also a teacher, then she has her work cut out for her! It’s hard for me just to remember which keys I need to bring when I meet with my clients.”
Maria’s leg bobbed up and down in her chair. Had she known that she was going to be bombarded with questions, she would never have stayed for dinner. Sebastian’s parents were like Ms. Madigan. Too many questions. And what was this stuff she was eating? It was hot, and the texture was soft and different from the beef jerky and chips her mother served her. It wasn’t bad, but it took some getting used to. She knew that she definitely did not belong here. This was a family where the mother cooked hot dinners with exotic ingredients. Their kid was an overachiever in school, and the dad wore a suit to work and talked about money. No fists banged on the table. None of them screamed at each other.
“Maria, what are you and your mom studying right now?” asked Sebastian’s mother.
Maria thought of the public records she read along with the obituaries and society pages in the newspaper. “Current affairs,” she said.
“Really!” Sebastian’s mother exclaimed. “I can barely keep up with the news, let alone try to teach it.” Mrs. Goldstein laughed.
“I got an A on the science quiz,” said Sebastian.
“Very good,” said Mr. Goldstein. “But next time shoot for the stars. I want to see A pluses!” Mr. Goldstein winked at Sebastian.
“Oh, Alex,” said Sebastian’s mom. “He’s doing just fine in school!” She turned to Sebastian. “I’m so proud of you!”
“It’s a parent’s job to encourage, Shanya.” Mr. Goldstein pointed his fork at Sebastian. “If he shoots for the stars, he’ll get there!” Mr. Goldstein brought his vibrating phone up to the table. “It’s work,” he said, and grimaced.
“Do you have to take it?” asked Mrs. Goldstein. “We’re having dinner, and we have a guest.”
“It will just be a minute. I promise.” Mr. Goldstein leaned in to kiss his wife before he shot into the kitchen to answer his work call.
Maria couldn’t believe it. Sebastian’s father just kissed his mother. She never saw Madame Destine kiss Mr. Fox.
“Oh, Maria. We are usually not this rude.” Mrs. Goldstein sighed. “But Alex has been under a lot of stress with work. I hope you understand.”
Maria fumbled with a cherry tomato that had rolled away from her salad. “We answer calls at the table all the time,” she mumbled. “And make them, too.”
“Oh, really?” said Sebastian’s mom, and refilled her glass of water from the pitcher. “Your mom’s very busy!”
Was her mom busy? Mostly she would lie around and let Maria do the work. Maria smiled nervously.
“What’s for dessert, Mom?” Sebastian grinned at Maria. “IF you’re lucky, it will be Mom’s chocolate cake.”
“It’s a surprise,” said his mom, her face beaming with pride. “Let’s wait until Maria finishes,” said Mrs. Goldstein, picking up her plate. “I whipped it up last week for my clients when we were closing on a three-bedroom. I thought I’d make it for us this week.”
Maria tried to wrap the cheese around the fork, but as soon as she put it in her mouth, it was on her chin again. She wiped her face with her napkin and placed it carefully back in her lap, as Sebastian did. She felt like an alien visiting Earth for the first time.
“I’m pretty full, but I could make some room for dessert,” Maria said.
“Sweetie, you barely ate your lasagna. I don’t want your mother getting mad at me for only serving you junk food.”
Maria was confused. She was definitely from another planet in this home. Just a few floors below, Maria’s family ate ice cream for dinner.
She scooped a large forkful of pasta into her mouth and swallowed.
“Whoa, there! You must really want dessert!” said Mrs. Goldstein. She hopped up from her chair and laughed. “And now, my two plate cleaners, I’ll be back with your surprise!” Sebastian’s mom swept up their plates and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I hope it’s crème brûlée!” said Sebastian.
Crème brûlée? Maria had no idea what he was talking about, but the lasagna rested like a lump in her stomach.
How could she keep sitting there making a fool of herself? Sebastian’s family seemed to have it all: money, happiness, a nice apartment. And Maria? She had nothing. Barely a family. Maria felt like a rat; sooner or later they’d realize she was not one of them and send her back down to the gutter.
But she wanted so badly to stay.
Maria felt her throat close up. Was it wrong to want Sebastian’s life?
“Or maybe Mom has made a pie,” Sebastian said. “Blueberry is my favorite. What’s yours?”
Maria’s eyes moistened. She had never had a real pie before, one that was home-cooked. Maria couldn’t understand why Madame Destine could con her way into hard cash but couldn’t fake her way into happiness. Maria wanted a mother who encouraged her to succeed at whatever she wished. She wanted a room with a window, freshly painted walls, family portraits—and a kiss on the cheek. Maria wanted a mother she felt close to.
Then Maria knew what she was missing. She didn’t care if she was rich or if she ever found treasure. What she wanted more than anything was a home. A real home, with a family that cared about her and loved her.
Sebastian’s mother entered the dining room with a large bowl of vanilla wafers peeking out from behind a fluffy cloud of yellow. “Voila!” she exclaimed. “Banana pudding!”
But Maria had already jumped up and backed away from the table. She had to leave. It was as if she had gotten a taste of something that was too good for her, and she was afraid of it. She knew where she belonged: downstairs, hidden in the shadows with con artists and stale air.
“Thank you for everything, but I have to go home,” Maria said before she turned around and fled down the bright hall. She descended the long flight of stairs and shot through the front door into the cold night.