WE NEED EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW
Hope is officially having her worst day at work. Instead of solving the production problems Hope asked her to tackle, Jackie has managed to bring her a few more. Jackie doesn’t like the idea of Shades moving to a smaller trim size and is throwing up as many roadblocks as possible.
Fiona, who knows everyone in fashion, is an invaluable resource, but she’s taken to second-guessing everything Hope suggests. Hope’s cell is also ringing off the hook. After she’s waited for weeks to hear from them, all the lawyers have decided that this is the day to update her on her mother’s paperwork. When her dad died Hope became responsible for Pearl’s estate. In addition to establishing a trust for the estate, she’s also taking care of her will and her life insurance policy. If that isn’t bad enough, it’s Fashion Week and she has to go to the shows at Bryant Park in a few hours. As she riffles through the briefcase holding her mother’s documents, looking for the power of attorney paperwork she has to fax, her cell rings. It’s Bella. Hope picks up; Bella can tell she’s cranky and tired.
“Yes,” she snaps.
“Shouldn’t you be in a better mood with all those pills you’re taking?”
“What is it, Bell? I can’t stay on the line.”
“Then why’d you pick up?” Bella asks. She’s annoyingly calm.
“It must be nice not working,” Hope sniffs.
“Not working is hard work,” Bella answers, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. “I just make it look easy. But because you’re deeply and understandably depressed, I’m going to let that one go. Have you had anything today besides Klonopin and coffee?”
Hope drops the briefcase, slumps in her chair, and thinks for a minute. “Well, no, actually. But I’ve got pages to check, and I’ve got to fax documents over to three separate lawyers for my mom—one about her will, one about her trust, and another one about her life insurance.” Just saying it all tires her even more.
“No wonder you’re exhausted; you’re supporting an army of lawyers.”
“I know,” Hope moans, “and I’ve got to go to the shows later on and my head is killing me.”
“Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to call Keysha and have her order you sushi. You’re going to talk to me until it arrives, then you’re going to hang up the phone, close your door, and eat your lunch for fifteen minutes. Then you’re going to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of your fabulous corner office at your great view of New Jersey, and think how wonderful it is to be on this side of the Hudson.”
“I don’t even know where to start with all that,” Hope laughs. “But I just don’t have the energy to argue with you.”
“That’s my girl. If you can’t fight with me how are you going to handle the barracudas at Shades?”
“You have no idea—one second.” Moving the phone away, Hope punches the intercom and asks Keysha to order in ten pieces of sushi and a cup of miso soup. Then she goes back to the phone. “Now to what do I owe this honor? Are you checking on the proletariat?”
“Honey, you’re not the proletariat.” Bella laughs. “But something like that.” She lights a cigarette. “What time will you be home tonight?”
“I don’t know, maybe seven-thirty. Why?”
“We’re having cocktails at your house and we wanted to make sure you’d be there.”
“You don’t say. That’s nice of you, Bell. Exactly who are ‘we’?”
“Who do you think? Z, Precious, me. We haven’t seen you in ages. Something tells me you need a drink.”
“You think everybody needs a drink.”
“Everybody does need a drink. Just be home at eight. We’re bringing cocktails to you.”
When Hope starts to argue, Bell interrupts her. “Hope, we miss you. Precious lost her job, Malcolm’s back, and none of us know what’s going on with you. We need each other right now. If I hadn’t called, you’d have forgotten to eat. They would’ve mistaken you for a model at the show.”
Hope smiles. “You’re right. I’ve been on autopilot for so long I’m not even aware of it. If I’m not there, you know where the extra key is. Just let yourselves in. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Make my martini up, three olives. I’ve got glasses chilling in the Sub-Zero.”
A once-beautiful woman, Luz Jimenez looks far older than her thirty-nine years. Having Portia at twenty had made her grow up fast, and when she kicked her husband out ten years later, it made her a single mother with two kids at thirty. Luz’s back aches as she hefts the grocery bags and exits the elevator on her floor. She’s exhausted but happy to see her girls. For the last week she’s been taking care of someone else’s mother; today she looks forward to having her daughters around her.
As she gets closer to her door and hears the familiar sounds of shouting, she sighs. She wishes Reymundo and Portia got along better. They were barely courteous to each other when she and Rey were dating; now that he’s moved in they argue almost constantly.
Poor Lulu is often caught in the middle, and Luz no longer knows what to do. She loves Rey, but she also loves her girls. Mostly she stays out of it, acting as a peacemaker, but the longer Rey lives at the house, the worse the arguments get. As she stands in front of her door, she wonders what to do.
When Luz opens the door she sees Rey in his work clothes yelling at Portia, who is pointing and yelling back. Lulu, who has been hiding behind Portia, runs toward Luz.
“Mamá, Mamá!” Lulu throws her arms around her waist. “You’re home!”
“Yes, mi amor, did you miss me?” Luz asks, ruffling her thick, black hair. Lulu gives Luz a big, dimpled smile. “Si, Mamá. Are you home for good? I miss you when you go away for so long.”
“As long as I can be here, baby. Take these into the kitchen. Can you do that?”
Lulu proudly lifts the bags. “Si Mamá, I can take them.” When she goes into the kitchen Luz turns to Portia and Rey. Rey has slumped onto the couch and Portia is standing with her arms folded across her chest, frowning. Luz takes off her coat and hangs it on the coatrack. She points to the baseball bat by the door.
“Do we still need this bat here? We have a man in the house,” she says to no one in particular. When there’s no answer, she turns to Portia and opens her arms. “Come and give your mamá a hug, Portia. Did you miss me?” When Portia comes to her, Luz envelops her in her arms and whispers, “I missed you mi amor.”
Portia whispers, “I missed you too Mamá. It’s not good here when you’re gone.” Luz kisses Portia, then walks over to Rey, sits next to him, and kisses him. “Hola baby, qué pasa?” Rey gets up and points to Portia. “Your daughter got fired again.”
“Ay Dios—baby, what happened?” Luz turns to Portia. “What do you think, Mamá? The same shit. I’m tired of waitressing. The customers they disrespect me. The men treat me like I’m a stripper and the women are nasty. One called me a perra.”
“That’s because you are a bitch,” Rey says nastily.
“Fuck you man, shut up!” Portia yells at him.
“Por favor, please please stop,” Luz begs. “Why are you always yelling at each other? We’re a family.”
Portia sucks her teeth. “He ain’t shit to me.”
“You hear the way she speaks to me?” Rey yells. “She has no respect. You teach her no respect for me, Luz.” He walks over to his work backpack and stuffs things inside.
Luz turns to Portia. “Did you walk out or they fire you, baby?”
Portia looks at the floor. “Both. I walked out; when I came back he fired me.”
Luz walks to Portia and puts her hand on her face. “Your check was a help and give you spending money. You think you can get your job back?”
Portia pulls away. “I don’t want it back. I’m not a piece of garbage people can kick around.”
“What you gonna do about money?” Rey asks. “Your mother works hard. I’m not gonna support you when you disrespect me.”
“I don’t want your money, Rey. And don’t trip—you don’t give us money. You living here rent-free and treating us like maids, is all you doin’. I don’t want nothin’ from you, man.”
“With that attitude nothing’s all you gonna get.” Rey smirks.
Portia gets in Rey’s face. “Why don’t you leave? Nobody wants you here.”
Rey pushes her away. “You may look like a man but you’re not—”
“Parelo. Stop. Stop it now!” Luz is livid. When she sees Lulu standing in the kitchen doorway, she holds up her hands. “Por favor, please no more fighting.”
Portia remembers the card and pulls it out of her pocket. She holds it out to Luz. “Look, Mamá, I got this on the train today. This woman ran down the station to give me this. She thinks I can model. I can make a lotta money doing that, right? And she was really beautiful, probably a model too.”
“Una model,” Rey spits out. “Models are sexy—you look like a boy. And you don’t get along with nobody; you ain’t even got no friends. Who’d hire you?”
“That’s not your problem. I can do what I want. If I wanna model I will.”
“Absolutely not. Anybody who walks around in public half naked is a whore.”
Portia smirks, “You’re always in your boxers. I guess that makes you a whore then. More like a prostitute though.”
Rey’s fists clench at his sides. “Watch your mouth, bitch. You ain’t getting money for pictures from me.”
“I don’t want your money,” Portia shoots back.
Rey turns to Luz. “You not giving her any money either. I forbid it.”
“Reymundo, it’s not our decision. Portia’s nineteen—”
Rey cuts her off. “As long as she’s under this roof she lives by my rules.”
Portia laughs. “This is mi madre’s house. You can’t tell me shit.”
Rey turns to Luz. “What do you say, Aluzita?” Luz sighs and puts her hand on Rey’s arm.
“Portia’s grown. If she wants this we must support her, mi amor.” Rey’s brown face turns bright red. He pulls Luz into the hallway. “This is the last time you disrespect me in front of her,” he hisses. “That’s why she treats me like shit. She got it from you.”
“Rey, they’re good girls,” Luz pleads. “Portia’s been working since high school to help the family. Her father left when she was ten; Lulu barely even remembers him. It’s time now to support her. She’s a beautiful girl. If her beauty helps to make her way then I will help her.”
“I know they’re your girls—I hear it almost every day—but I’m your man.”
“And that will never change,” Luz tries to soothe him.
“How can I be a father to them if they don’t listen to me?” he asks.
“They’ll listen if you love them, baby.”
Rey turns away from her. “You better get a handle on your kid or you’re gonna lose your man.” He turns back. “And if she has her way, you’ll never get another one.” Grabbing his work-bag, he opens Luz’s pocketbook and takes out some money. Then he slams out of the house.
Luz stands in the hallway. She feels trapped. She turns to Portia. “Don’t you want me to have a good man?”
“Rey’s not a good man, Mamá. He’s a bad man. He makes me uncomfortable and he yells at Lulu and me.”
“That’s because you don’t listen to him.” Luz was exhausted, they had this argument almost once a week.
“He’s not my father—why should I listen to him?” Portia is now pacing in the living room.
“Because he’s the man of the house. You should respect him.”
“It’s not his house and he don’t respect us. All he does is watch TV all day in his underwear.” Portia points to Lulu. “Lulu’s nine. He should put some clothes on. It’s not right.”
Luz tries to hug Portia. “I know he’s not perfect but I love him. Reymundo is not the best man, but he’s here; he sleeps at home. That’s a lot more than your father did.”
Portia pushes her away, her face twisted in pain. “I don’t want to talk about him. I hope he’s dead. Your taste in men sucks. You expect so little, no wonder you’re such a victim.”
Luz sits down heavily on the sofa. “What do you want me to do, Portia? I’m not young and beautiful like you. I’m almost forty, no husband, and two daughters. I’m lucky to have the love of a man so much younger than me.” Luz puts her head in her hands and starts to cry. “I need love, mi amor. I’m not strong like you. I need love.”
Lulu runs to her mother and hugs her as Portia sinks to her knees in front of Luz. “Mamá please don’t cry; I’m so sorry. But your love costs Lulu and me. It always has.”
“Oh baby, I know. I will make it right.” Luz sobs.
“You can’t always make everything right, Mamá,” Portia whispers.
No one speaks as Luz cries softly; they just sit and hold each other.
We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are.
—Anaïs Nin