Chapter 49
Frida Rodriguez ... En Route
July 28, 1993
Paris, France
Fair Kate,
Poor Sven. And his poor dad. A person’s despair has to run deep to do something harrowing like that. I get why Sven’s on guard – that’s not your average disappointment – can you imagine what it must feel like to spend your whole life waiting for the people you love to disappoint you like that? That’s as depressing as spending your whole life trying not to disappoint the people you love. I should know! I la-di-da’d into a war for my sisters. A WAR! Not that I’m sorry I did. I know it’s not as important as writing cover articles for Current , but I found a research fellow in Houston of all places who has microfiche of a collection of Turkish poems from the 1800s that was lost in the fire. He sent me a Xerox for one of Lejla and Irena’s students.
You have no idea how glad I am to hear that you don’t want to be any other writer except the One and Only Kate Fair. And of course Emmett Watson mentioned your article about MFK. You should be pleased you did it on your own, and that’s NOT selfish!
Stupidity Confession: This one’s about how we can royally disappoint ourselves. Guess who came back to town? Total Heathcliff relapse. Niko said he owed me an apology and took me out for a decadent meal at Port Alma. Sea bass in a salt crust with a creamy fennel gratin, a warm salad of langoustines, and a crisp bottle of Pouilly-Fumé. All of it overlooking the Eiffel Tower! I was fresh off my conversation with Lejla, so of course I savored happiness and beauty like it was my sworn duty.
Niko told me that having such successful parents makes him driven to live up to them. Isn’t it scary how much of who you are depends on who randomly conceives you? Even now in his thirties he says it makes him selfish but he doesn’t want to be like that – especially with someone like me. I bought it hook, line, and sinker. One thing led to another. Dot dot dot. We didn’t leave each other’s sides for three whole days! He promised to connect me with his editor at Current . All of a sudden I was going to be a War Journo Dame again. All of a sudden I forgot the reasons I’m not made to be a WJD. Stupid Frida because worst of all I completely forgot about the Ramona Club.
When I got back to the hotel on Sunday night my door was open. I heard voices and that’s when I realized I ditched them for a hot guy like some desperate John Hughes character. I was too embarrassed to go in and tell them where I’d been, so I sat on the floor out in the hall. I could hear Merjema telling Kirby how she didn’t want to leave Bosnia but her mother said, “You are the last hope for our family.” Now she’s here, but she can’t get into a French university because her transcripts are in Sarajevo, and the only way for her to get a work permit is to apply for political asylum. Kirby asked her how long that takes, and she told him it could be months so for now she cleans houses to survive.
Guys can be so different. Kirby listens and asks questions and listens some more, but Niko talked about himself for three days straight. When I told him about the Ramona Club, the only question he had was, “Why would you read kids’ books?” Kirby read Ramona the Pest so he could talk to the Ramonas about it – that’s what I’ve started calling Lejla and Merjema. How sweet is that? And he flipped out when you sent The Phantom Tollbooth . It was his favorite book when he was growing up. I almost forgot – can you send a copy of Are You There God? He wants to know what the fuss was about when girls were reading it back in junior high.
Sven doesn’t know me, but would you give him a hug from me. I have a feeling he didn’t get his fair share when he was growing up.
Stupidly yours,
Frida
P.S. I didn’t tell Kirby about Niko. I don’t think I should. What do you think?