Dear Diary,
They arrived!!!
At the airport, a lot of Americans gave each other big back-slapping hugs, but Miguel and Uncle Angel gave us little Spanish cheek kisses.
Uncle Angel, by the way, does not have a hair halo. He has no hair at all! He’s bald! He’s not skinny either. He’s the opposite! He’s nice but his English is only okay. He pronounces Dad’s name Maaaarrrrrc and Mom’s Me Ron Dah and mine May Lah Nee. And he calls New York Nueva York (Nway Va Yohrrk).
Miguel looks the same: cute. But is he maybe a little shorter? That makes no sense, of course. Unless I grew a little. Which I’m sure I did. But did I also imagine him taller? Another thing (I can’t believe I’m writing this): His shoes are a tiny bit unusual. I mean, no boy in my class would ever wear loafers like his.
Anyway, we put their stuff (or “luggages,” as Uncle Angel said) in our trunk and Uncle Angel smoked a cigarette (yuk!) and then we drove from JFK to NYC. From the Triborough Bridge, Mom pointed out the changing Manhattan skyline.
“Look at the Empire State Building!” she said. We all turned our heads—even Dad—and admired how the Empire State Building sparkled, all rosy and golden and dramatic in the sunshine. But then Mom scolded, “Not you, Sweetheart, you drive!”
Uncle Angel said, “It is beauty-full!”
“Want to go up?” Dad asked.
Uncle Angel said, “Yace!” It was fun to see a grown-up so excited. This is his first trip to Nueva York too, not just Miguel’s.
Dad told them that on the Fourth of July, America’s birthday, the top part gets lighted up all red, white, and blue.
“On Saint Patrick’s Day, it’s green,” Matt said.
“At Christmastime, it’s red and green,” I said.
“On Valentine’s Day, it’s just red,” Mom said.
“And wasn’t it bright blue when blue M&M’s first came out?” Matt asked. I don’t know where Matt learned that, but it was better than dwelling on Valentine’s Day.
“It was also blue,” Dad added, “when the Yankees won the World Series.”
Miguel translated for his uncle. “Los yanquis” (Yon Keys). “Béisbol” (Baze Bowl). I knew those words because we’d studied sports in Spanish. I remember because Justin thought the word for outfielder was funny; it’s jardinero (Hhhar D Nair Oh), which also means … gardener! In Spain, of course, no one actually plays baseball—it’s an American game. (Random question: Does that mean Spanish couples never go to first base???)
Well, we drove down Fifth Avenue to 34th Street and our only choice was to park in an expensive garage. Uncle Angel seemed shocked at the price and said it cost “Un ojo de la cara” (Oon Oh Hho Day La Cah Rah). Mom translated: “An eye from the face.”
“Ewww!” Matt squealed with delight.
Miguel gave Matt a big smile, the kind of smile I hoped he’d give me.
Matt said, “I can jump higher than the Empire State Building!”
Miguel said, “Is this possible?”
Matt said, “Yes, because the Empire State Building can’t jump!”
Miguel laughed, so I did too.
We walked under the Empire State Building awning, and Miguel and Uncle Angel handed Dad their cameras, and Dad took photos of them pointing up. Inside the marble lobby, we looked at the Art Deco mural and got in a twisty line of tourists speaking different languages.
Dad mumbled, “We should have ordered tickets online.”
Mom shrugged. “Lines are part of the New York Experience.”
Our turn came, and Dad bought tickets for the observation deck and Tony’s Audio Tour, a headset that Dad said would give us “an overview of the view.”
Uncle Angel nodded. “An overview of the view. Sí.”
Well, Miguel and his uncle were blown away by the elevator ride alone! Elevators usually show floor numbers like 1, 2, 3 … but this elevator zoomed up so fast that the numbers it showed were 10, 20, 30 …! My ears felt as if they were on an airplane! We rocketed to the 80th floor, then took another elevator to the 86th floor, which is the best for looking around. There are actually 102 stories and a giant antenna.
Uncle Angel asked, “We see King Kong?” Mom laughed and told us about an ancient movie that shows King Kong on the tippy top of the Empire State Building.
Finally we arrived at the observation deck, and we all looked out out out and saw, not King Kong, but the whole world at our feet. In miniature!
Miguel gasped. “It is like the movies, May Lah Nee!”
“It is!” I agreed. His eyes were wide, and I looked into them and we smiled at each other—at last! For one endless second, it felt like we were on our own private magic-carpet ride. Together, just us. I even wondered if I should give him that kiss I’d been thinking about.
Up there, it was as if everything else was fuzzy and only Miguel was in focus. His dark eyes and dark hair and soft lips. It seemed like we might step closer together … but then we broke away. Maybe we both feel a little shy or tímido (T Me Dough)? Instead of gazing at each other, we started looking outward, and also down at the colorful metal panels that explain all the sites.
I pointed to the giant green rectangle of Central Park and the pointy scalloped spire of the Chrysler Building and the graceful distant arch of the George Washington Bridge, which got built in 1931—same year as the Empire State Building. We looked at the toylike trees and itty-bitty Staten Island Ferries and teeny tiny Statue of Liberty (we put quarters in a viewer so we could see her better).
Miguel asked where the twin towers used to be, and I showed him. I also showed him how they are marked on the panels with dotted black lines.
The Empire State Building got built really fast—in fourteen months!! When it was done, it was the tallest building in the world. It stayed the tallest in New York all the way until 1972, when the World Trade Center became the tallest. Then everything changed on September 11, 2001, and the Empire State Building became the tallest again. But it wasn’t really a boast anymore. More like a tarnished trophy.
Miguel looked toward the place that got named Ground Zero, or Zone Zero, as he put it. “Terrorismo (Tear Rrroar Ease Mo). Terrorism. It is sickening, yes?”
“Yes,” I agreed, but then I couldn’t think of a single other thing to say. How come it was so much easier to write to Miguel than to talk to him?
Stupid Suze hopped into my head and answered, “Because you weren’t in love, you were obsessed.” Which made me mad at her even though she wasn’t even there.
I think I’m just not used to discussing such serious subjects. Plus, I wanted to feel like a kid on top of the world—not a grown-up who knows that the world has troubles of its own.
Miguel and I turned on our audio guides. I listened in English and he listened in Spanish. Matt tagged along and started climbing a railing—until a guard yelled at him. Then Matt taught Miguel the phrase Never Eat Shredded Wheat, since that’s how he’d learned North, East, South, and West. I told him that was dumb.
The Audio Tour was not dumb. We liked it! It starts with: “How ya doin’?” in a New Yawk accent. The guide, Tony, is a friendly, know-it-all taxi driver. He says the Empire State Building is the “greatest building” in the “greatest city in the world,” then tells the history of New York, explaining sites from the Flatiron Building (a really cool triangular building) to the dock where the Titanic was supposed to arrive (sad sad sad).
I wish I could have memorized everything Tony said; I wish I could be a five-star tour guide!
We went to the gift shop and Miguel bought a souvenir mug that cost exactly $10. The cashier said, “All set?” Miguel looked confused. She said, “Cash or plastic?” Miguel looked more confused. Finally she said, “$10.70,” and Miguel said, “Is there a confusion?” Mom explained that everything costs extra because of tax, and Dad added, “Welcome to America.”
Miguel gave the cashier eleven dollars and she gave him change and Matt explained that a nickel is five cents and a quarter is twenty-five.
The elevator to the bottom was very crowded and Dad joked, “If we squeeze in a few more people, we can go down even faster!” Fortunately, Mom did not translate. I was squooshed against Miguel (which I didn’t mind) and my ears were popping (which I did). Back on the street, Uncle Angel thanked us for a wonderful experience but said he was hecho polvo (Ay Cho Pole Vo). That means so tired he’d turned to dust. It was past midnight in Spain, so we dropped both Uncle Angel and Miguel at their hotel and went back to being just the four M’s.
Which felt … disappointing. I don’t know exactly what I’d expected—maybe that Miguel would be staying with us? Or that he would take a picture of me with him on the Empire State Building as he had on the castle in Segovia? Or that he’d kiss me on the forehead as he had in the airport in Madrid?? Or that I’d be brave and kiss him???
I guess things with Miguel are still up in the air. Which is where he spent most of his day!
At least he’s on my side of the Atlantic. For now, anyway!
P.S. When Cecily and I talked about IMing, I’d said things are clearer when you’re actually with someone, person to person. But even face to face, things can feel foggy.
Dear Diary,
At around eleven last night, Dad brought me warm milk and asked, “Are you too wound up to wind down?”
I said, “Yes, but that’s a dorky way to put it.” I didn’t want to tell him what (or who) I was wound up about, though he could probably guess.
I still can’t believe Miguel is here!
This morning, Dad already went to work and Uncle Angel has meetings, so Mom, Matt, and I are going to show Miguel around.
I wish I were old enough to do it myself. I wonder if he wishes that too.
(everyone’s in line and my job is to save the table)
Dear Diary,
The Central Park Zoo is tiny compared to the Bronx Zoo, but Miguel thinks it’s cool that there are monkeys right in the middle of busy Manhattan.
In Spanish, zoo is spelled zoo but rhymes with Toe.
Monkey is mono (Mo No). Mono also means cute. So if you’re looking at monkeys and say, “Mira, qué monos” (Me Ra Kay Mo Nohs), it means two things: “Look! What monkeys!” and “Look! How cute!”
Miguel called Matt a “mono mono” and Matt beamed. If I’d called Matt a cute monkey, he’d have bit me.
Besides the monkeys, we watched:
• polar bears or osos polares (Oh Sose Po Lar S) swim, flip, and push off from the thick glassy wall with their big white paws.
• seals or focas (Foe Cahs) wave, clap, salute, bark, and give high fives for fishy rewards.
• penguins or pingüinos (Peen Gween Ohs) waddle around their chilly stinky habitat making clicky noises in chin-strapped tuxedos. A few rubbed their necks together and sort of kissed with their beaks, which made me wonder:
We also liked the flying bats or murciélagos (Moor Syell Ug Ose). Miguel told Mom that “bat” in Spanish is the only word that uses every vowel—aeiou—once each. Believe it or not, that made Mom’s day.
Oops, everyone is back with lemonade or limonada (Lee Moan Ah Da).
P.S. Matt just asked Miguel, “Where do bats go to pee?” “Where?” Miguel asked. “The bat room!” Matt howled. “Come with me, okay?”
Off they’ve now gone to the bat room, ho ho ho, Matt babbling the whole way about how a little brown bat can eat one thousand bugs in an hour.
I wish I could talk with Miguel the way my family does. Matt made Miguel laugh just by telling him that elbows in English are called funny bones. Miguel asked, “And knees?” Matt said, “Knees are just knees!” and they laughed some more. Ha ha ha ho ho ho. Everything is soooo funny.
All I wanted was for things with Miguel not to change. But even Miguel’s voice is changing. It’s deeper, and it cracks sometimes.
I guess I’m changing too. I’m taller, and today I’m wearing a bra. It’s a little uncomfortable, though.
