After spending hours waiting at the bottom of Rosita’s staircase, I finally walked back to my house. As soon as I got there I went and looked at my fish. At the way they swam round and round and always seemed to be in good spirits, although I could never really be sure. But I did think they were happy, since they always had somebody to take care of them. And that somebody was me.
To be on the safe side I checked all the levels, even though I’d done it that morning and would do it again before leaving for work later. Everything was A-OK. Knowing it calmed me down. I took a shower and went to bed.
Usually I got up at three A.M., but that night I woke up after midnight because I heard people shouting in Rosita’s house. The noise was coming from her bedroom. I took a glass and held it against the wall to hear what they were yelling about.
“Are you out of your mind? How dare you get in touch with her! How dare you! Do you have any idea what kind of position you’re putting me in?” I thought it was Anna’s father’s voice. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen his car parked outside in the middle of the night. According to Rosita, his wife sometimes took the kids to sleep over at her mother’s house. And then Victor would spend the night with Rosita.
I heard Rosita say something back. She wasn’t yelling; she was talking softly. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, no matter how hard I pressed my ear to the glass.
“Don’t give me that crap!” Victor yelled back. “Know what you can do? You can go to hell. I’ve had it up to here with you! I’m going on vacation tomorrow, and then it’s over. Do you hear me?”
Then Rosita’s voice again. She was crying, I did hear that. But what she said wasn’t clear. Victor was talking more quietly, too.
I stayed there awhile longer with my ear glued to the glass, listening hard. But I couldn’t catch anything else they said. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs and the front door slamming shut. Looking out the window I saw Victor Asscher’s silly car driving down the street. I heard Rosita crying.
It occurred to me that this fight was good news. Very good news.
There was nothing keeping Rosita, Anna, and me from being a family anymore. We already were almost a family—Rosita had said so herself. Besides, there were plenty of other signs: I was over there every day, and I’d touched Rosita’s privates, and Anna was fond of me. Now we were really going to be inseparable.
I was so excited I couldn’t get back to sleep. I got up and went to the bakery much earlier than usual and baked far too many croissants.
“Did you think it was Saturday?” my boss asked.
After work I picked out a madeleine for Anna. This time I tied the paper bag with a red ribbon. There was something to celebrate, after all. I couldn’t seem to walk normally. I ended up skipping all the way to our street. I pressed Anna and Rosita’s doorbell.
It took a long time. Maybe Rosita was in the bathroom. After a while I pressed the bell again. And again. Nobody came to answer. I hung the bag with the madeleine from the doorknob and walked over to my own house. Why wasn’t she home? I kicked a door and smashed a vase my mother had given me on the floor. It didn’t help at all. I forced myself to calm down. I recited all the fishes’ names a few times. That did help. My heart stopped racing and my head stopped reeling. I decided to make myself something good to eat.
The day before, I’d brought home a pain de figues, which was delicious to eat with sheep’s-milk cheese. As I was slicing the cheese, I thought I heard something through the wall. It was vague and sounded far away, but it was unmistakable: “Tinky Winky . . . Dipsy . . . Laa-Laa . . . Po . . .”
I knew that song. I took a bite of the delicious pain de figues and realized that if the TV was on, Rosita and Anna must be home. Which meant Rosita hadn’t opened the door on purpose.
I climbed over the little gate leading to her backyard and peered through her window. Rosita was sitting next to Anna on the couch. She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top, and her feet were bare. She was smoking a cigarette. As if she’d been sitting there the whole time. But she’d refused to open the door. Anna was munching on the madeleine. The red ribbon was at her feet.
Then Rosita saw me. She stared at me. I must have given her a fright, because her shoulders went up and she dropped the cigarette on the couch. The couch I’d bought her. She snatched up the burning cigarette and started rubbing at the spot where it had fallen. Anna saw me, too. Her mouth formed the word Ray! She even waved at me.
I just stood there outside the window; I didn’t know what else to do. Rosita got up off the couch. I thought she was going to let me in, because she walked over to the back door. She opened it a crack and stuck her head out. “What are you doing here, Ray? Can’t you just leave me alone a single day?”
I took a deep breath and decided to just come out with it. The thing I’d been waiting to say for so long. I’d hoped it and dreamed about it, and the moment had come. “I’ve come to be a family. With you and with Anna.”
For a moment she didn’t say anything. Then she burst out laughing.
But what I’d said wasn’t funny.
When she’d recovered a bit, she said, “Come on, Ray! You don’t really think we can be a family, do you? Really, whatever gave you that idea? I think you’re sweet and very nice, although I didn’t think you were very nice yesterday, when you just stood there at the bottom of the stairs and wouldn’t leave, but okay, maybe it was my fault. But now you’re going too far. We are neighbors, Ray. Friends, even. But family? Come on, that’s never going to happen.”
“But you said so yourself.” I went to the door to take her in my arms. To hug her and kiss her, the way people do who belong together.
But she jumped back. “Over my dead body!” She slammed the door in my face, turned the lock, and savagely drew the curtains shut.
I stared at the yellow drapes, her words tumbling through my head like raisins in the bread mixer. Suddenly I knew the awful truth. She had fooled me. She’d told me we were nearly a family. But nearly means “just a few more steps and you’re there.” But those few more steps didn’t exist. Not then, not tomorrow, and not ever.