THE RED BICYCLE
We were making the long six and a half drive back to our home at the end of a long weekend spending Thanksgiving with my husband's large family. The children were asleep or occupied the time with a book to while away a lull in conversation. I was quietly mulling over an idea that kept swimming in my head. My husband's younger brother had moved to Idaho and started a job repairing household appliances and money was tight for them. Their three-year old daughter wanted a bicycle for Christmas and my mother-in-law lamented that they did not have enough funds to cover this wish. So I was thinking about getting her the bicycle myself.
Images of different bicycles popped in my head and then Christmas morning at that household in Idaho when the pretty little girl wakes up and sees a beautiful red bike next to the tree. No, make that pink. Or maybe purple. I imagined little Ceci happy and excited. It made me happy to think about it. All I wanted to do was make her happy and feel loved. I wanted to be her doting 'aunt' even if in American culture, I am not really an aunt. In my culture, I would be real family. Perhaps if I showed generosity and thoughtfulness, it will make up for the geographical distance between her family and ours. I wanted to love her. I wanted to be the kind of 'aunt' who would always be there for her. I started to feel joy anticipating her excitement....and a possible meaningful relationship with her and her siblings. And it can start with a red bike.
My thoughts were jolted by a sudden remark from my husband who had been driving in deep thought.
"I have an idea. Let's get Ceci a nice, shiny new bike!"
I was startled. He and I were having parallel thoughts.
"I was just thinking the same thing! Now, how shall we accomplish this?"
"Well, we can just order the bike off a catalogue, pay for it and then have it shipped to Idaho."
Again, there was thoughtful silence. I began to think about logistics.
"Shall we send a card with it? Like...'Merry Christmas with love from Uncle and Auntie'"?
There was a long pause.
"I don't think we should let them know the bike came from us. I think we should send it anonymously."
"Why?"
"Well, I have a feeling they might take offense. It occurred to me that they will for sure question our motivations. They will think that we are trying to outshine their gifts."
"How are we going to do that? I mean, obviously the bike is going to come from Nevada. That's a dead give-away!"
"Not if we order it from out of state!"
There was another long pause. We were both having the same fears.
"Why can't we just give without having to worry about this?"
"You know how my family thinks. They'll just take this badly. We'd be showing off!"
I knew in my heart that he was right. We were doing very well. Perhaps better than all his siblings. We had more than we needed and we were desperate to share. But lost in our thoughts, giving became more complicated.
"What if we just send a gift certificate for a bike?"
"What's the difference? It'll still be a bike. It'll still be a present."
My mind began to spin.
"If we make sure the store doesn't place a gift receipt or any information in the box that would trace it to us, do you think they'd know it came from us?"
"Yes. They would put two and two together. And they wouldn't take it the way we want them to take it. That's the fear."
I now had a different image in my head. I could see her mother pouting and saying, "who do they think they are?" I could see that it might be more fodder for gossip and innuendo. Something fierce churned in my stomach. I knew it. It would not be a good idea. Then a sudden sadness seized me. I can never be that doting aunt. Never. Not to Ceci or her siblings. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. I felt frustrated. Subverted. Foiled. There was a long silence again.
"It was a bad idea."
"Yeah. I think we should forget it."
We talked more about our frustration...and sadness. Why does it have to be so complicated?
In the ensuing years, we would become less and less involved with their family. I learned that giving is a very complicated matter. Growing up in a more open and demonstrative family, I simply did not consider that giving could cause so much turmoil and complications. Where I grew up, giving was simply that. And even if there was a sordid motivation, the gift was appreciated anyway because giving was de rigueur.
Needless to say, by the time we arrived home that November day, the excitement about the red bike wore off and we never discussed it again.
THE INSIDIOUS CHARMER
She wore a striped dress with a black cord tied around her waist when she arrived at the airport in Salt Lake City. She was nervous but joyously searched the waiting crowd for friendly faces she had never before seen. She spotted three happy faces waving at her. They recognized her from her pictures. They thought she was beautiful.
There was much excitement in the car. Her wedding was in ten days and she was giddy with happiness because his mother and his sisters, 9 and 14 instantly loved her. She felt like she was home. Home. A new home. A new life in a new country. She will combine the best parts of her culture and race with his. The term "in-law" did not seem to mesh with the words 'sister' and 'mother' to her for she saw them as her own flesh and blood now. She surrendered her heart to them and instantly loved them like they had always been meant to be her mother and sisters. She would have another mother to love...someone who would love her, watch out for her, care about her. Nothing can hurt her anymore. She was loved. And she was all too anxious to hold nothing back. She was anxious to love them right now.
Many wonderful words were exchanged. There were hugs and cuddles with her new sisters on that cozy, red rocking settee. There was happy chatter about his other brothers, the nice neighbor next door and Spike, their beloved dog who had a 'girlfriend' in every corner.
His father was at work when she arrived and she would not hear him talk much. But he was in the background. Always in the background. She accepted his minimal participation. This must be how it is in America. Fathers don't have to talk much. Or invest much.
And then came the hushed tones about that woman.
That woman was his older brother's wife. "Be careful with her," they said. "Her feelings get easily hurt. She's a little. . . different." It was a warning. She listened. Without a doubt, there was trouble there. A family squabble! How interesting! She felt a sinking feeling in her gut. Conflict. Strife. It sounded like that woman was not very well liked. Stupendous! She would be their favorite daughter-in-law! She would take their side. That woman is the enemy.
Through the decades, there would be constant whisperings, innuendos and criticisms about that woman. Sometimes tears would be shed in frustration. At times they would huddle about after dinner and whisper their disdain. Nothing that woman did was good enough. They blamed her for all real and imagined problems that existed in her marriage.
One day, her husband's younger brother brought home a girl who was loud and boisterous and very, very young... and already an expert charmer. Lying dormant in this charmer's deepest parts is an insidious manipulator. At first, everyone had a bad feeling but that didn't last long because one by one, they fell for her expertise. Then he married her.
*******************
In due time, she no longer felt loved. Something happened. Frequently, during family events she would walk in and an uncanny air would fill the room as if there had been previous conversation about her that was obviously unflattering. She could feel it. But she could not confront them. Later, there would be veiled comments. Sometimes she wouldn't catch it until she was on her way home and she would suddenly realize she had just been put down. But in a nice way. And she hurt. It hurt so bad. It got worse and worse. She no longer felt loved. Then she remembered that woman. She suddenly realized that if they can talk so badly about that woman, they can be totally capable of saying the same terrible things about her. She knew it. And she was right.
She became curious about that woman. Thankfully, she discovered that that woman was an amazing person. She found her sensitive, wise, fun-loving and thoughtful. And she lamented that her fine qualities were so woefully overlooked or unseen. She would never listen to the women prattle about her ever again.
The younger brother's wife had a much louder and funny way about her. It was all too simple. And fun. And insidious. Everyone loved her. She was charming...and calculating. She had a talent for subverting love. It was just innate in her to demand attention because there is a gaping hole that needs filling. In due time, they would love and esteem only her. She would be the only daughter-in-law who received love and praises. And she had them. She had them in more ways than one eating out of her hand. She was now the one who "protected" everybody from the other sisters-in-law. She found new and clever ways to subvert their actions or inactions. She interpreted their motives in ways that were unflattering. Sometimes, she acted indignant and protective against imagined slights and offenses. She created competition among the wives when there never was any in the first place. And she was very clever because in the process of making herself look good, all she had to do was put anyone who threatened her position down. She was good. She was very, very clever. All she had to do was create a bigger arena for whisperings, innuendos and criticisms and frequently present them in a funny, witty way. Clever.
************************
One day, she got a phone call from the younger brother's wife. She was suddenly and quite out of her character, feeling guilty. She confessed to her that she had always been jealous of her because everybody loved her in the beginning. She wanted to "put one over her" all the time. She said that one day, she stayed up all night sewing an outfit for her little son so that she could show up and "put one over her" and prove that she was a better mother. She confessed that she made fun of her, talked behind her back and consciously tried to make her look bad so that she can take all their love from her. She said that she was "born with her foot in her mouth".
She had never before heard the cliche, "put one over you". Those words rang in her ears all night.
"She wanted to put one over me!"
She thought about all the times when she felt eerily ill-at-ease during family events. She thought about all the times when his little sisters, now young women with husbands, would talk back at her and ridicule her---how sometimes, their comments had bite and sharpness.
The confession she heard that night was quickly forgotten. She knew that if she were sincere, she would call her husband's parents and siblings and confess to them what she purposely did through the years. How she destroyed relationships between family members. How her words and methods ate away and corroded once happy and joyous relationships. Where there was once harmony, there is now chaos. Where there were once good feelings, there is now a growing and nagging suspicion amongst each other. Where there was peace, there is now hurt so deep that many have chosen to stay away. But she did nothing to fix her ways. She had confessed to her--- and that was it. Nothing changed. The damage she caused and perpetrated and encouraged is now so deep and so encompassing that many choices were affected through the years...choices that were propelled by ill feelings, by hurt, by myopic perspectives, by deception, by hateful motivations. The younger brother's wife was in the center of it all. But she had their love now. And we are all broken.
More than two decades have passed. No one really knows why no one speaks to each other. Siblings choose to not invest in their relationships. Others choose to stay away because the hurt is simply too deep, too stressful and...simply too much. Over two decades have passed and no one really knows how it all happened nor how to fix the broken pieces. Perhaps it was always broken. Perhaps everyone just bought the myth that the clan was well and perfect...except for those women--- and then protected the myth.
********************
Her children are grown now and they are indeed the best of everything she had to offer. They are a perfect blend of everything good about her culture, her race, her genes as well as her husband's. There is no meaningful contact between her and her once "sisters". There would be no happy chatters, no giddy laughter, no hugs nor cuddles. Her desire to give them her heart has ebbed for her heart lay tattered, bruised, beaten. Her excitement to be a part of their lives has been replaced by a sense of betrayal. Their lives are now so deeply entrenched in each others' absence. She prefers to stay away; to avoid grappling with the knowing glances between the other women, to avoid being in conversations where clearly, the intention is to make her feel left out; to avoid events where her every move is criticized and given meanings that she would never consider. They would all miss out on her fierce love. In the beginning, all she wanted to do was love them. But she realized that they would never love her back the way she expected them to love her in the beginning. And after much time, there would be more pain and hurt than love returned.
In the beginning, she thought she was safe...that no one can hurt her. That sweet anticipation has been replaced by a jaded heart...too scarred and weary to find that happy beat reserved for family. They have become true "in-laws".
****************
Gossip
I used to be part of those who thought I was a blessing
Who filled my longing for a place that I was sorely missing
They said they knew me from before, e'en long before my birth
And recognized my spirit in all its eternal worth
I loved them faithfully and with much celebration
Placed my heart in their hands with nary a hesitation
Then lived I without any fear of judgment or of censure
Confident their love, like mine, was vast and held no measure
And then one day a charming person walked into our lives
Her flamboyant nature first confused us that day that she arrived
Her name is Gossip but no one knew, for happily we embraced her
For we could not see inside her heart, her beauty hid that specter
Many think that Gossip has a very ugly face
A warning now I issue here that's not always the case
A friendly smile, a sweet embrace and sometimes even tender
For that is how she can disarm and then have you surrender
She creates competition where before it never wandered
With loud and jovial conversation enrollment she expanded
Disarming everyone she touches with charm and sweet requests
Drowning your heart with importance as her frailties she'll confess
Joyful and loving intentions of any person's heart
Whose needs are borne from quiet wells of a need to be a part
Gossip's friend named Envy, invented motives never existed
Painted over with doubt and questions, all goodness now subverted
Gossip wants all to love her better than any kin
For love to her is a contest, a spot for her to win
With clandestine whisperings in tiny little doses
Just enough to tickle like a dozen thorny roses
Flattering and caressing you but leaving tiny pricks
So you never know the damage done--- that's the best of all her tricks
Little by little she wins your heart without a bit of fight
By destroying those who threaten her, whose love once shown so bright
The insidious fact is despite her smarts, she never really knows
That those whose spirits she destroyed can see her spirit boast
Months now stretch into years and now your love she owns
The damage that her words have made are still to her unknown
Blissfully oblivious of the gravity her deeds do greatly weigh
A family divided now, someday her debts she'll pay
I'm nursing back my broken heart that used to have a home
The pain I feel is deep and dark while here I write this poem
For Gossip breeds a creature dank that cannot be erased
The damage is just exquisite and shattered lives lay waste
When whisperings and family are partnered in this sport
There are no happy endings here so sadly I report
Still no one knows that she's the culprit, she boasts her charms malignant
For that is how her magic works she makes us feel indignant
And though the closeness we all knew is now just plain pretend
I pray that soon that day will come when we can all transcend
The veil that Gossip used well, "putting one over" and smiling put-downs
Retrieve our family, our lives, our joy---snatch quickly now the Gossip's crown!
Copyrighted. All rights reserved. Christie Faux, 1999.
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We arrived home last night after a spending our last morning in New York City. The weather was cold but absolutely beautiful. I purposely walked the busy streets trying to stop time...or at least slowing it down to take in every detail that I could absorb. I love the rhythm of the city, the sounds, the smells---everything about it. We did catch a Broadway play every night although one night, I did give in to watching "The Producers". I realized, after sitting through this musical that I really didn't want to be entertained as often as I hunger for being intrigued and stimulated intellectually. And that's why I enjoy watching a well-written and well-produced play instead. The three plays we saw certainly accomplished all that---Prelude to a Kiss, Talk Radio and Journey's End. I do have to admit that some scenes and actors were not at the top of the game but most of the cast members made up for their lack. Liev Schreiber is as electrifying as ever. We had seen him in Harold Pinter's "Betrayal" which won the Tony for Best Play Revival, won Juliet Binoche a Tony for best actress and a nomination for Liev for best actor. In "Talk Radio", Liev was brutally good. I would be surprised if he doesn't nab the Tony this year. The play was written by the controversial Eric Bogosian. I came away thinking a lot while walking back to our wonderfully luxurious one-bedroom condo at the Hilton Club located on two floors of the Hilton Towers on Avenue of the Americas.
I do think that purchasing membership to the exclusive Hilton Club has been worth it. The service is fantastic and the accommodations are wonderful. We especially enjoyed the Hilton Club reception hall on the 37th floor----there's always food and drink available! And the location is just superb. The Museum of Modern Art is across the street. We are a block from 5th Avenue. Broadway is three blocks away. Rockefeller Plaza, NBC and FoxNews Studios are minutes away by foot. And walking to Central Park is just a quick jaunt. We had lunch at the famous Tavern-on-the-Green on Central Park since we wanted Hannah to experience that. It was certainly lovely and we got seated in my favorite room---the garden room---with its amazing pastel colored ceilings, grand crystal chandeliers hanging all over, luscious fresh flowers and amazing garden scenes outside the glass walls. I wouldn't call the food fantastic but the experience was wonderful. For a grand lunch, we went to Oscar's located on the ground floor of the Waldorf-Astoria. Now THAT was superb. At a mere $27 per person, their lunch buffet is the best bargain in Midtown Manhattan, in my opinion. And the service is attentive.
But for the best street food, hands down we vote for the Hallal food cart located on the 53rd street side of Hilton. Queues are long and winding but at $5 a plate you get a warm plateful of lamb or chicken, pilaf, fresh lettuce with your choice of red sauce (spicy) or white sauce (tzazikki). Marvelous! And more than enough for two meals. The food is so good that this street vendor has been featured on the NYTimes, David Letterman, FoxNews, Good Morning America and Today shows. Of course, you can't beat the honey roasted nuts being sold for $2 a bag in every street corner. That's a staple.
It's now Easter Sunday here in Nevada and I'm already feeling blue. I'm back in my environment where small minds abound and pettiness reigns supreme.
Well, back to binge-ing.
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