Barbies Can't Talk

            by Nadia Brunner-Velasquez

 

            The bubbles were multiplying by the thousand with each passing minute.  What do you do if the bubbles stop coming?  Pour more bubble bath soap into the tub.  But quick!  Hurry, before the water level is too high and the tub overflows.

             I let a few more minutes pass, testing the temperature of the water by sticking my feet in.  It was perfect, and just the way I wanted it to be.  The bubbles couldn’t have looked more inviting; they sat there, small and round, effervescent and glowing in the dim bathroom light.  I undressed, throwing my Osh overalls and reversible dinosaur shirt on the chair beside the tub.  I pulled out my bath-toy basket and pitched all my favorite toys into the water.  They made hollow cavities in the fluffy mass of bubbles.  I stuck one foot in, and then the other; I sat down in the water and let it absorb my body.  Shivers shot up my neck and I looked over at my arm, where little hairs stood straight like pins.

            When I stick my head underwater and stay there for a while, I can hear the strangest sounds.  The sporadic noise of water drops falling from the leaky faucet and hitting the surface of the water, the sound of my nails scratching my head, the clinking of the toys on the tub floor.  All sounds are muted, distorted and softened from the pressure of the water.  Then, I hear it…

 

“Nadia! Let me get in!”  It was my sister.  I watched her undress, throwing her clothes on top of mine on the chair beside the tub.  She turned to the mirror and put her hair up into a bun.

“Why are you putting your hair up?”

“I don’t want it to get wet,” she muttered.  Her naked body looked so different from mine.  She was sixteen, and I was only seven, it was merely a question of who had already gone through puberty.  I knew I hadn’t.  When will my body look like hers?  Her lean legs stood long and elegant, and her arms and hands mingled around her head gracefully as she fixed her hair.  She stood there so beautifully, and I couldn’t help but be happy she was my sister and that we loved each other so much. 

She gestured for me to move and plopped herself right next to me in the tub.

“What were you doing underwater when I came in?” she asked me.

“Listening.”

“Oh.  Is this Barbie new?  When did you get her?  I’ve never seen her before.” She fished out the little brunette doll from the bubbles.

“No, it’s old.”  Why does she always bother me with her questions?  I proceeded to show Ken how to kiss Barbie, telling him how to move his head from side to side, thinking he understood me. 

“You’re a weirdo.  Barbies can’t talk.”

“I know they can’t talk, and I’m not a weirdo.”  We didn’t usually get into physical fights, but preferred to argue things out the way our parents did at times.  Unlike many other siblings, Eva and I often liked to show our unconditional love for one another.  Our Mama raised us to embrace each other and kiss when we disagreed.  This time, however, she had provoked me to the limit.  I could not stand her, and I did not want her in my bath.

“I’m not a weirdo!” she mocked me. 

“Stop it!”

“Stop it!”

“GET OUT!”  I yelled with all the might my seven-year old body could let out.  I could no longer restrain myself and the nerves in my head would inevitably burst out of my ears.  Animal instincts kicked in, and without hesitation, I jumped up from under the bubbles and bit her.  Knowing it would hurt, I had decided to target her nipple.  But I did not know how much it would hurt her.  How could I know and how could I ever relate?  I was only seven, after all.

“OWW!” she yelped and shrieked in total outrage.  She sat there, panic-stricken and frantic, not knowing what to do.  Her eyes, fuming with fire, stared unbelievingly at me for a minute.  I could hear her teeth gnashing against each other, and I could feel the strong and painful grip she now had on my arm.  She bolted out of the water, grabbed her towel off the rack, and ran down the stairs to tell Mama.  But, somehow, I knew I had won.

 

                                                    ~~~

 I crept up the stairs and gently gripped the doorknob, turning it once to the right.  I pushed the door open and peeked inside.  No one there. 

 

Cucumber-melon, lavender, green apple and rose-water – she had all the body spray scents that Bath and Body Works had to offer.  I was lucky she was gone for the day because that meant I could stay in her room and make it my own.  I sprayed myself with perfumes, painted my nails purple and pink, and plastered my hair to my head with coconut oil and gel.  Then I transformed her closet into my store; I re-folded her clothes and neatly arranged the hundreds of platform shoes she had stuffed into the corner of the closet.  Tick tick, tick tick – went my cash register as I typed in the price of each item.

“Riiing,” screamed the doorbell. I heard Mama’s footsteps shuffling down below, and the click of the doorknob to the front door.  It was Eva.  Maybe I should just leave everything the way it is…maybe she’ll want to play with me.  I frantically ran around the room, not knowing how to put everything back in its rightful place.  It would take her approximately five seconds to walk up the stairs.  I heard the thumps of her footsteps climbing the steps.  They grew louder as I envisioned her on the other side of the door, approaching nearer and nearer, perhaps wondering why her door was closed.

“What are you doing?!”  She set her purse on the bed and scowled down at me with hands on her hips.

“Want to play with me, Eva?”  Her eyebrows slowly rose with satisfaction, seeing that I was absolutely petrified and stammered my words.

“Yeah, alright,” she grunted.  I could see her eyes staring at my plastered hair, a sticky, gooey glob of some sorts.  “Can I fix your hair first?”

“No!  Doesn’t it look good?” 

“Um, no.”  She took down my ponytail, ripping out some hairs.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry.”

She parted my hair in a zigzag pattern, all the way down my scalp.  She fixed the two halves of my hair into two perfect braids.  The gooey glob no longer looked like a wild animal resting atop my head, but now looked the way hair should look.

“Why are you playing store anyways?  Aren’t you almost nine?”

“I like to pretend.  Can you please play with me?”

We played for what seemed like hours to me.  And I was happy that she had no other place to be than to sit there and spend time with me.  I stole a glance at the mirror every so often, admiring the new hair style she had given me. 

                                                                                   

~~~

 

Alberto was one of Eva’s best friends.  They met in high school, had many mutual friends and seemed to be inseparable.  But one day had changed many things.  I remember hearing Eva screaming and sobbing behind the closed door to her bedroom.  Mama was in there and I could hear her soft, soothing voice, and my sister’s horrifying howls and moans.  What happened?

Later, I found out.

“Nadia, come here.”  I walked into the kitchen and looked into Mama’s hazed eyes.  I could sense trouble, her face was dreary.  “Alberto is dead…your sister is very sad.  Here, bring this food up to her and stay there for a while.  Just comfort her. ”

            The curtains were drawn closed and the room was dark and stuffy.  I set the tray of food down beside her bed.  I heard her hushed whimpers and saw her huddled beneath the covers, where she was curled up in a ball beneath the thick layers of blankets and pillows.  Her small head of hair popped out from under the covers as she faced the wall.  The great bundle of cloth breathed heavily.  

 “Eva, here is some food.”  No answer.  I lay my hand on her back and felt the bundle move with each breath and sigh.

           

The funeral was open-casket, and the first one I’d ever seen.  Alberto’s small, adolescent body rested there among the satin folds of the coffin interior - completely quiet.  His face was drained of any color he possessed when he was alive.  This isn’t natural.  It was surreal and unlike anything my nine-year old mind could ever comprehend.   I watched my sister most of the time, concerned because she just stood there and stared at him until they closed the casket and began the service.  She walked away, wiping the tears from her flushed face, and hiding her face behind her long, hanging hair.  Will she stay this sad for much longer?  My eyes also began to spill tears.  I was glad she had finally come to sit next to me on the bench.  I held her hand and rested my head on her shoulder, while her tears gently fell into my hair.   

 It wasn’t until after the funeral that Mama told me why Alberto had died.  Still, I was too young to understand most of what happened.  He got into an argument with another boy at school.  They took the fight outside to the street right in front of Berkeley High School.  Then, the other boy pulled out a knife.  He stabbed him more than once, until it was too late for anyone to save Alberto’s life. 

 

~~~

 

The clouds rose up and out of sight as the sun slowly burned them away.  The balmy air pressed my clothes against my body, and drops of sweat dribbled down the sides of my face.  I sat there in the cool grass of my backyard, thinking about what to do with the day.  The drops now seeped from my face to my neck, and down my chest, where I no longer held the image of a nine-year old.  I had grown a lot in the last four years, leaving my favorite Osh overalls behind because I couldn’t budge my elongated torso and thickening thighs into the seams of the pants.  Now, I had my own pair of pocket-less bellbottom jeans – quite the trend for the seventh grade.   

Although I had high expectations and thoughts of adulthood, I was far from finishing puberty.  My expectations were nothing but premature hopes and attempts to look older.  Perhaps it was Eva, now twenty-two, who had set my hopes so high.  She was one year past being legal, she could drive, she was a model, she went to college, had a fiancée and she was a mother.  How much older could you get?

 “Nadia!  Eva is here!”  My mother yelled from the porch. Yes!  I sprinted up the porch stairs and into the house. 

“Hi, Nadi.”  Eva said, stretching her arms around me and pulling me in for a warm embrace, the same one I looked forward to every time I saw her.  She smelled of expensive leather and delicious vanilla-scented body spray. 

 “Is Malini still sleeping?”

“Yeah.  I just checked on him five minutes ago.”

“Good.  Well, the photo shoot went well.  I might be in the Mervyn’s catalogue next week!”

“Cool!  Are you guys staying here tonight?”  She had been living at home for the past year because she had just given birth to her first child.  “Please, please, please!  Please stay!”

“Um…okay.”

Then I heard it.  The baby woke up from his sleep.  He shrieked and yelped like a little lamb prone to prey. 

“Well, there goes my afternoon nap,” Eva said, and ran up the stairs. 

I ran closely behind, trying to match each step she placed on the stairs.

 

                                                         ~~~

 

 We drove down the street in her new jeep, blasting the music and bumping to the beat.  The clouds rolled in from the bay, and the cool air tickled my nose.  I flicked the window switch and turned on the car heater. 

“It’s murder on the dance floor!”

“You better not kill the groove, DJ!”  Eva chimed in.  It was one of our favorite techno songs to dance to. 
            “Are we going home now? Are you spending the night?” I asked her.

“Yeah, I guess I have to stay.” She said, rolling her eyes sarcastically.  I knew she wanted to come home, though.  We had so much gossip to catch up on.  She always wanted to know everything about my life and those of my friends’.  She wanted to know about parties I went to – where was it? Were there any cute guys?  What did you do?

Later that night, when everyone went to sleep, we made my bed together.  I helped her tuck the little ones in bed, giving them a kiss and hug goodnight. 

“Let’s go say goodnight to Mama!” I whispered, and we quickly crept across the dark hallway on tiptoes.  I gripped the doorknob, turning it once to the right.  I pushed the door open and peeked inside.  Mama’s reading in bed.

“Goodnight!” Eva and I jumped on the bed and arranged ourselves on either side of Mama, squishing her in between and wrapping our arms around her.

 

            We lay in my bed that night, under the dim light of the night-lamp sitting on the ground next to the bed.  We gossiped and I didn’t have to withhold any last details from her because I felt comforted by what she’d have to say.  We appreciated each other. 

            Silence.  Our conversation ceased for a few minutes, and I could hear Eva beginning to breathe slowly.  I glanced over at her huddled body.  The windowpane wiggled in its frame and jolted loudly from side to side.  The wind is strong outside.  My eyes followed the shadows in my room; they stretched across the walls and across the ceiling.

            “Are you sleeping?” She nudged my side with her elbow.

            “No, are you?”

            “No.”

            “Eva…do you remember that one time, when we were younger – we took a bath together and I got mad at you and then bit you?”

            I watched her eyes squint and move from side to side, searching the room for her answer.

“Yes! Now I remember.  That hurt.”

            “No, that was so funny!  Can I tell you another story?”

            “Okay, shoot.”

I wrapped my arm around her, snuggling close to her warm body. 

 

And so went the rest of the night.  We lay there, giggling and squirming with laughter of stories told.