number two. Can I ask you a personal question? Do you have a list of the serial numbers of your savings bonds? I know it’s none of my business.
How’s your brother? He’s doing great. I think he’s great. I think he’s somewhat lonely. He calls me every day. He thinks I’m lonely. When’s he gonna get married? He needs to meet a nice girl. Such a brain! There’s nothing he can’t do. He’s losing his hair, but that doesn’t matter. Everyone gets older. Whenever I think about you I go crazy. You’re so gorgeous! I’m somewhat lonely in this house. I’ve taken your time. The machine’s working? You think I’m dying. It’s OK. You don’t have to say anything. I know. I know you all have been lying to me. When they bring out the tape recorder, it’s either because of a school project or because you’re dying. And you graduated from Princeton University nine years ago.
So I need you to promise me something. Come close. Somewhat closer. You know that your grandmother never asks anything of you, but this is one thing. I beg you, no matter what happens, no matter where you go in life or how many millions you make, no matter anything, I beg you: never buy a German car.
So wha’d’ya wanna talk about?
Soleil
Vendela Vida
‘Well, looks like Soleil is coming to visit,’ Gabrielle’s mother announced, hanging up the phone. Gabrielle was setting the kitchen table while her father concocted a dressing for the salad.
‘You mean S-s-s-soleil,’ Gabrielle’s father said.
‘Stop it,’ her mother said, but laughed. The orange lipstick she’d worn all day at the bank had faded, leaving only a few vertical stripes in the dry creases of her lips.
‘S-s-s-s-stop it,’ her father said.
Gabrielle’s mother turned to her. ‘Soleil stutters.’
The name Soleil began to collect random anecdotes and attributes from the corners of Gabrielle’s memory. Wasn’t Soleil her mother’s college roommate in Hawaii? Gabrielle had seen a photo of this woman waterskiing while wearing a top hat - it made her look six feet tall and, Gabrielle thought, like a magician.
‘Is she still a hand model?’ Gabrielle’s father asked.
Gabrielle suddenly remembered something else. ‘Didn’t she used to go through your garbage?’
‘No, she’s not a hand model. And it was just one time with the garbage,’ her mother said dismissively. ‘She said it was work-related. ’ Gabrielle’s mom shared a smile with her husband. ‘I think, if anything, she had a little crush on your dad.’
Gabrielle didn’t look at her father - his reaction, she was sure, would embarrass or upset her, though she couldn’t say why. She hoped he wouldn’t stutter again; Gabrielle felt sorry for Soleil, and for anyone with any sort of impediment. Her best friend at school, Melanie, had only four toes on her right foot, and Gabrielle had recently been successful at convincing her she could wear sandals.
‘Where’s Soleil living now?’ Gabrielle’s father asked.
‘You know, I don’t know,’ her mother said slowly. ‘Maybe Texas? A part of me thinks she’s still going from friend to friend, man to man.’
‘Huh,’ her father said, sounding impressed.
Soleil arrived at the house on a Tuesday evening in July. Gabrielle’s parents were both at work, but they had instructed her to let Soleil in and to give her fresh towels and a snack.
‘Hi, beauty,’ Soleil said when she stepped inside the door. ‘You look just like Jack.’
Jack was Gabrielle’s father. She didn’t know how Soleil had reached such a verdict so quickly.
‘Thank you,’ Gabrielle said, and studied Soleil’s face. Her eyes were the color of nutmeg, and her wide cheeks were so flat they seemed pressed up against glass. Her hair was brown and straight, except at the bangs, where it hung in a series of ‘S’s.
‘Wow, there are more mirrors here than at Versailles,’ Soleil said, looking around her. ‘Your parents are rich.’
It felt like a judgment. ‘Not really,’ Gabrielle said.
‘What do you mean, not really?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gabrielle said. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘Well, the fact that you’ve never thought about it means you’re rich.’
Gabrielle knew they weren’t rich and she knew they weren’t poor. She wanted her parents to come home so Soleil wouldn’t talk about money. ‘The only place it’s appropriate to talk about money is at the bank,’ Gabrielle’s mother often said. Maybe that’s why she worked at one; she was senior teller.
‘There’s food in the kitchen,’ Gabrielle offered. ‘My parents won’t be home for another couple hours.’
‘Are you kidding?’ Soleil said.
Gabrielle didn’t know what she would be kidding about.
‘I’m not