Will the Real Raisin Rodriguez Please Stand Up? (11 page)

I almost fell overboard. My dad's new friend Danny was Vivvy's mother? What did this mean? What did she know about my time with Vivvy? What did my dad know? Was this an ambush? Was I in trouble? Where they going to make me walk the plank?

“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Until I added, “She's very nice,” because it seemed like the right thing.

I wondered why Vivvy hadn't said anything. Or Pia and Claudia.

“It's kind of a funny situation, isn't it, Raise?” my dad said.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I said, mumbling into my vegetarian chili. “Does Vivvy know?”

“Yes, but I asked her not to tell you,” Danny said.

“We thought it'd be better to tell you tonight rather than bombard you with all these new developments right away,” my dad said. Which I thought was sort of sweet. “You ready for some Christmas carols?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

I said yes, but all I wanted to do was jump off the boat, row back to shore on the dinghy, take a cab home, and call Vivvy so I could apologize to her before she said anything to her mom and her mom said anything to my dad.

While my dad and I sang, Danny started to clean up. I felt bad for her, so I got up to help her. It only seemed fair.

“Oh, that's okay, Raisin,” Danny said, patting my head. “You just sing. Don't worry about me. I'm Jewish anyway, so I'm going to sit these songs out.”

Then I really felt bad for her. “So no Christmas and no Christmas presents?” I said.

“Well, we have Hanukkah, which starts the day after tomorrow and lasts for eight days.”

So Vivvy gets to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, that lucky duck! Nine days' worth of presents and the poor girl still feels the need to steal.

After the carols, we went back down to the galley to make s'mores with Danny's s'mores maker and her special kosher marshmallows, which were just as delicious as regular marshmallows.

Aside from the horrible news about Danny and Vivvy, I had a really nice time tonight. I like Danny.

Now I have to write Vivvy and apologize to her before she has a chance to tell Danny about the fight. It's a shame it's so late. Otherwise I'd call.

 
11:40 PM, PST

Here's what I wrote:

 
Dear Vivvy,

I'm sorry I yelled at you about the dress. I totally overreacted.

Please forgive me. I want to be your friend.

XO,

Raisin

 
PS—I'm also sorry I yelled at you about the pie. If it makes you feel any better, I'm completely ashamed about it. I think I sounded like a total pig.

That should do the trick, right? I take full responsibility for my actions and I'm a hundred percent apologetic. I hope she checks her e-mail tonight. I'll be relieved when she writes back. At least then even if she tells Danny about the fight, she'll say I already apologized and then I'm less of the bad guy.

 
12:41 AM, PST

I couldn't sleep, so I created this handy little chart as a visual aide. I think, Fippy, you'll find that it supports my findings on the subject of Danny and whether or not she's my dad's new girlfriend.

Merry Christmas Kitties,

Vivvy hasn't gotten back to me yet. Maybe she's still sleeping. I'm going to call CJ. That'll kill some time, and maybe by the time we're done, talking I'll have an e-mail waiting from CJ.

 
12:34 AM, PST

One minute. That's a four-second improvement on our last conversation. I could have killed the same amount of time by looking away from my computer screen and then looking back.

But at least I finally have a decent explanation as to why CJ doesn't talk much. At least not to people.

I was telling him about my e-mail to Vivvy. And that I didn't know whether to write her again, or call her, or just give her some more time to get back to me.

At first CJ wasn't saying anything. So I took Vivvy's advice. “CJ,” I said. “Talk to me.”

Boy, do I wish I could take that back. You will not believe what he said.

He said, “Whenever I need to figure something out,

I talk it out with my meteorite.”

“Does it answer you?” I asked, panicking.

“Of course not,” he said, much to my relief. “But meteorites can be as ancient as the universe itself, and I like to think its wisdom has a positive influence on my thought process.”

“Uh-huh, good to know,” I said. And for the first time, I was the one to end the conversation.

That's pretty creepy, right? I mean, I have reason to be bothered by this, don't I? As soon as my Vivvy situation is resolved, I'm going to start obsessing over this, but I can only handle one disaster at a time.

 
Logged in at 12:29 AM, PST

 
12:45 AM, PST

I just called Pia and she told me that Vivvy got my e-mail but she didn't think it was sincere.

But it was sincere. I sincerely want her to forgive me so she won't tell her mom about it.

Seriously, though. I wrote the exact same thing I would have written if I had been sincere.

I guess I could call her. Pia gave me the number at Vivvy's dad's house.

 
1:03 AM, PST

Raisin: Can I speak to Vivvy?

Vivvy's dad: Sure. Can I tell her who's calling?

Raisin: Um . . . sure. Tell her it's Raisin.

VD: Just a moment, please.

VD: I'm sorry, Raisin, Vivvy is unavailable at the moment. I'll tell her you called.

Click.

 
Here's a bit of phone etiquette: If person A calls your home and asks to speak to person B, once you say, “Sure,” you can't get back on the phone and pretend that person B suddenly became unavailable. It's too obvious that person B is perfectly available but just doesn't want to speak to me.

—A public service announcement from your local Raisin Rodriguez.

 
2:15 PM, PST

Danny just called to talk to my father. I don't think she said anything about my fight with Vivvy, but how can I be sure? This is driving me crazy. I decided that I'm going to give Vivvy the dress. If that doesn't demonstrate a genuine desire to make up, then I don't know what would.

I love that dress, but it's not worth all the grief it's caused.

 
2:17 PM, PST

So that's what I'm going to do. I'm gonna give Vivvy the dress.

 
2:19 PM, PST

The beautiful, vintage, possibly one-of-a-kind, Emilio Pucci halter minidress, with the psychedelic pattern. That dress.

 
2:20 PM, PST

Because people are more important than dresses.

 
2:21 PM, PST

Even if the dresses look absolutely perfect with the boots, earrings, and wig. Like out-of-a-magazine perfect.

 
2:23 PM, PST

And if you're thinking, Well, it didn't fit her on top anyway, I had been planning on having Samantha or my mom make some alterations. But no biggie. I'm giving it to Vivvy. It'll be fine.

Would it be inappropriate for me to wear the whole outfit to Claudia's house later? Just to have the experience of wearing it out once? And then when it's time for me to give it to her, I'll just have a change of clothes ready?

 
5:47 PM, PST

My dad just asked me why I'm dressed like I'm going to a costume party. Fair enough. I'll change, but I'm not going to like it.

 
11:15 PM, PST

I just got home from Claudia's. It was very tense at first. Vivvy wouldn't look at me and I wouldn't look at her, and each of us sort of pretended the other wasn't even in the room while we did Claudia and Pia's gifts.

But when they were finished giving out their presents, it was obvious that Vivvy and I would have to start acknowledging each other.

We all stalled for a while by having random conversations about things like split pea soup (P&C were pro bacon, Vivvy and I were con), how often we remember our dreams at nights (P&C do, Vivvy and I don't), and whether we could name all fifty states (that was a unanimous no).

“Okay, whose turn is it next?” Pia finally asked.

“I'll go,” I said, figuring the sooner I give Vivvy the dress, the sooner all the badness would go away.

“Um, this is for you,” I said, handing her a gift-wrapped box. She gave me a quick for me look, and I nodded reassuringly. Then she reached out her hand to take it from me.

I got a Pop-Rocks-in-my-stomach feeling. I knew she'd be so happy when she saw what it was. She took her time opening the box, but when she pulled back the tissue paper packing, she shrieked. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“I'm positive,” I said. “I'm really, really sorry about yesterday,” I told her.

“Me too,” she said, and then we hugged.

I felt sooooo much better after that. I never want to fight with anyone ever again. Ever. And I'm going to do everything in my power to avoid it.

Pia and Claudia loved their presents too. I got them each a stack of DVDs to keep them busy on their next flight to Philly, which will hopefully be very soon. (With a reminder to recharge their batteries the night before so they don't run out of juice the way I did coming over here.)

Next it was Vivvy's turn to give out her gifts. She gave each of us tickets to see The No Way Josés with her and Jackson tomorrow. And even though I never heard of them and I don't know any of their songs, Pia and Claudia were so excited about it now I am too.

Pia and Claudia are going to wear their outfits from Déjà Vu, I'm going to wear the boots, earrings, and wig, and Vivvy's going to wear the dress (but not the wig or boots because she left the store without buying them.). So it'll be like Vivvy and I are wearing the equivalent of one outfit between the two of us.

AS WE SLOWLY BUT SURELY REACH THE FINAL GOAL OF BECOMING ONE PERSON.

When my dad picked me up, I told him about The No Way Josés. He just so happened to have their CD with him, so he put them on. I must have learned a lot working on the Entertainment column for CoolerThanYou because I was able to identify their sound (sound!) as garage punk. As we sat in the Herbie Goes to the Future World Mobile, zooming down the highway with the top down and the butt warmers on extra high, I felt at home. At least a little bit.

Until someone in the car in front of us threw their gum out the window and it hit me on the head. And then I really felt at home.

 
Lynn: You know, I'm not a huge garage punk fan, but I like The No Way Josés. I hope they play “Picture Me.”

 
Logged in at 11:48 AM, PST

Hey, Fippy and Lynn,

I think something very bad just happened. Why can't Herbie drive me back to last night when something good was happening? And then we'd just park and stay there forever and nothing bad would ever happen again?

Except then I'd never see you guys.

Maybe Herbie has a cousin who could give you guys a lift so you could meet me last night.

... We'll have to work out the kinks, but that's the basic gist.

Anyway . . . I decided not to make too much of a big deal about the meteorite because as you pointed out, CJ's always been weird. That's his thing. Why start holding it against him now? So I put it out of my mind and called him to see how the rest of his Christmas went, and, more importantly, what presents he got.

It didn't go so well:

 
RR: Hi. What's going on?

CJ: Not much.*

RR: Um . . . How was your Christmas?

CJ: Good. I got some recording equipment. And some cool programs for my computer.**

RR: I got some good stuff too.

CJ: That's cool.

CJ: Now I can play music on my laptop.***

RR: That's nice. Well, maybe you can show me when I come home.

CJ: Okay. When are you coming home?****

RR: New Year's Eve.

CJ: Right. When's that again?

RR: New Year's Eve? It's on December 31. Unless you're talking about New Year's Eve on Mars. In which case you'll have to consult an interplanetary calendar. Wait. What's that? You can't find it? Maybe you left it in the same place you left your head. On planet YOUR-ANUS! Guess you'll have to ask your meteorite.