“You think it’s so cute that Mateo can play ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ on his guitar. Just wait another seven years, when he tells you he wants to run off and join some alt rock band rather than go to college. Or worse, try out for a reality television show. Then let’s talk. I’ll remind you to let him find his own way at seventeen, for you to get out of the way of his dream that is heading nowhere good.”
“Hey, as long as that little cannibal doesn’t turn into Ozzy Osbourne and bite the heads off birds on stage I’m all good.” I can’t wait to remind her of this conversation when Mateo goes Goth at fifteen. If creamy Latino black kids can go Goth. Never really thought aboutthat one. Regardless, we’ll see who is the hyper-controlling, know-it-all momster then.
Lola pushes her chair in place and leans over to give me a kiss on the cheek. “You just count yourself lucky I don’t rat you out to Aunt Viv that you failed to walk me to my car. Leave a good tip, Hugo’s my favorite bartender.”
It’s my week to pick up the tab and I still have a sip or two of champagne left. I disregard Aunt Viv’s golden rule of friendship: “You go together, you leave together.” No one’s going to mug Lola on the way to her mini-van one block up Franklin. I stay at the bar a few moments more to think about my deal with Etta. I told Etta she could apply to Juilliard and that I would even help make her portfolio video, but I have no intention of actually allowing her to go. But is Juilliard worth losing my daughter over? Is there a middle road we could agree on, like, maybe a reputable college with a strong dance program where she could double major? Seems like Duke is that kind of school, worth double-checking my research at least. Or, if I just stick to my plan and wait it out will she come to see I’m right and thank me later? Deep down I know there is no one right path for Etta to take, but I also know that New York City is littered with many tempting wrong paths. I leave the philosophical for the mundane and signal Hugo for the check. Teenagers have no tolerance for late pickup.
•••
“Check you out!” Roan growls as I smooth down the back of my skirt and give a little shimmy. “Someone’s got it bad for the gays.”
When I wanna look good, I can look so damn good even Nan will stop and take notice. This morning, she used up her once-a-year compliment admiring my mint-colored blouse that casually ties at the neck with a little peek-a-boo hole that shows some well-moisturized chocolate skin. I’ve paired my top with a knee-length Kelly-green pencil skirt. And, if that weren’t enough, I took the ensemble over the Fairchild fashion edge with my metallic silver ankle booties. BAM! I’m lookin’ fly today and I know it. Take that, middle age! I ain’t ready for you yet.
Knock. Knock.
The smell at the door gives it away. “Come in, Aunt Viv.” As promised, she has arrived fifteen minutes before the Golden parent interview to deliver her apple crumb coffee cake.
“Now remember, Josephine, unless you want me to die earlier than I plan to, you let that good doctor’s daughter in this school. I have never once asked for any favors where your job is concerned, but I’m askin’ now.” Aunt Viv is tearing at the Kleenex she has permanently stuffed up her sleeve. She’s visibly anxious, not her usual calm, authoritative self.
“Aunt Viv, you know I can only admit her if she’s a right fit for Fairchild. And if her parents are a decent fit, too.”
“Puh-lease, child, I’ve seen you and three directors of admissions before you accept plenty of children who had no business bein’ here other than their parents could buy somethin’ for the school that it couldn’t buy for itself. I’ve been here a long time. I’ve seen a lot of things, and I know how it goes. If your parents have more money than Mississippi, Georgia, and Louisiana combined you get in. If you look like you shop at the Ferry Building’s farmers market on the weekends, you get in. It’s all the families in the middle who have to play by the rules. Private schools color outside the lines. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I need that doctor to be happy that his daughter gets to go to a good school, this school. I’m not up for dyin’, Josie, so the least you can do for me is accept that nice family, so I can get on with livin’.”
Since her heart attack this is the first time Aunt Viv has actually talked about dying. I know I’ve thought about it, I know Etta’s thought about it, but up until this moment it was unclear to me if theidea of dying was anything Aunt Viv spent much time thinking about. She’s not one to delve into emotions and “all that therapy nonsense you younger generations spend too much time talkin’ about.” This turn of events, me doing what needs to be done to take care of Aunt Viv, is uncharted territory. Aunt Viv is the caretaker. Aunt Viv is the lawmaker. And in full disclosure, Aunt Viv is the steady hand that runs our house and reigns over our land, and I’m in no hurry to step into that family role quite yet.
“Well, Aunt Viv, if I were a betting woman, which I swear to God I’m not”—Aunt Viv detests gambling—“I would bet on the Goldens. I can’t think of a time since I’ve been at Fairchild that we didn’t take two dads.”
“Now, that’s not true. Remember those large fellows with the thick Russian accents you could barely understand? For a whole year every time I came by your office I had to listen to Roan talk in a Russian accent and ask if I knew how to makepiroshkies. Those men had a son and you didn’t take him.”
“Aunt Viv, they weren’t gay, they were brothers. They just wore too much jewelry. Anyway, we didn’t take their kid because SFPD came to Fairchild looking for information we had on them. Turns out they were part of an underground Russian mob out of Moscow that had been steadily growing in the Bay Area for over a decade.”
“Okay, so they were brothers, but still you didn’t take them is all I’m sayin’. So, unless you plan on startin’ to do more of the cookin’ and cleanin’ around the house I strongly suggest you find love in your heart for the Golden family.” Ohhh I hate it when Aunt Viv threatens me with going on a cooking strike. Laundry and vacuuming I can handle, dinner not so much. “And don’t touch the coffee cake, it’s not for you.” Aunt Viv throws the shredded Kleenex in my garbage, kisses my forehead, and gives me a good look up and down. “You look nice today, Josephine. Your hair’s all laid and lookin’ pretty.” A compliment from Nan and Aunt Viv in one day, now I know pigs fly and hellcould possibly freeze over. If Golden Boy isn’t a foodie, hopefully he’s a designer diva and I can get another fashion compliment for the trifecta win. As I begin to preen just a little, Aunt Viv follows up her compliment with, “Cuz yesterday ya had cookabugs hangin’ from them dreads. Now stand up straight like I bothered to teach you anything.” As orderly as she arrived, Aunt Viv walks out my office door, with perfect posture, I note.
I check my e-mail in the five minutes I have before the Goldens show up.
FROM:Yu Yan (Helen) Wu
DATE:November 14, 2018
SUBJECT:Liu family of Shanghai
TO:Josephine Bordelon
Hello, Josephine,
Lovely to make your acquaintance. I am Helen Wu, senior partner at Admit International, Hong Kong office, and I am the educational consultant for the Liu family of Shanghai. The Liu family will be moving to San Francisco in two months’ time, though the head of the household, Wang Wei Liu, will be spending most of his time at his multinational company based in China. The Liu family purchased the Greek consulate two blocks from Fairchild and they have spent three years refurbishing the building to create an acceptable home for a family of such international renown.
Now that the house is complete, the Lius need to find a reputable school for their children. One boy. One girl. Twins. The children will be entering the American equivalent of grade nine.
A colleague of mine in Singapore shared with the Liu family that Fairchild Country Day School is an academically rigorous and highly regarded school with students eventually matriculating into Ivy League universities. This pleases Mr. Liu greatly and he would like me to share with you that his children have been raised with impeccable manners, can sit and focus for extended periods of time, are fluent in the Queen’s English, and will be studying hard to ensure acceptance into Harvard University.
Since Harvard is the number one university choice for his children, Mr. Liu would like you to send to me, and I will forward to him, your statistics on Fairchild graduates attending Ivy League universities for the past twenty years. Mr. Liu is well informed that Stanford is an internationally recognized university, but he prefers a school with a longer-standing history of excellence and tradition.
Please inform me, within the next forty-eight hours, as to the correct immediate application steps for the Liu family.
Thank you for your attention to this important matter.
Yu Yan (Helen) Wu
