classes and by the bathroom during study hall.
There is no point arguing with her anymore. She is not going to bend. We decide I will have to ask to use the office phone.
I give Nicki a look and get up. “I guess you guys will have to get to your next class, so see ya.”
“Don’t be mad, Ariel.” Nicki is looking down as she speaks, twirling her hair.
“We could go with you,” M cuts in. “I don’t care if we get detention . . .” The shrill of the five minute bell cuts her off.
“Thanks, M, but it’s okay, I’ll see you guys after class.” I pat her arm and trudge across the blacktop toward the office. I can hear the soft rise and fall of Nicki and M talking as I walk away.
Mom picks up on the second ring. “Hi!” she says, all cheerful. Caller ID, she must think it’s Ms. Patel.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Oh, yes, Ariel.” She’s still upset with me—her voice assumes the injured, slightly cold tone she gets when she’s sulking.
“Mom, is everything okay with Dad?”
“Your father? Well, yes, of course, Ariel. He’s filming the Godfather commercial. You know, we talked about it last night.”
I am possibly the only fourteen-year-old girl on the continent who has actually seen The Godfather several times. It is the classic of classics for mafia movies, which I adore. In fact, I am the one who gave Dad the idea to spoof it for his next commercial.
“But he’s okay and everything?”
“Ariel, what is this about?” Mom asks me sharply. “If you called to apologize for your rude behavior this morning, just say so. You don’t need to act like you were calling for some other reason and then . . .”
I cut her off impatiently, “Someone heard that Dad had a heart attack. On the police scanner here? I was confused, because you were just here to give me the bee kit and why wouldn’t you tell me if Dad got sick?”
Mom is quiet.
“Mom?”
“I . . . I . . . don’t know anything about this, Ariel.” Her voice sounds scared.
“You mean it might be true?” I feel tears spring to my eyes and I realize I am holding the phone in a death grip.
Mom sucks in her breath like she always does when she is upset but taking charge. Her voice still has a quaver in it as she says, “Honey, I will get to the bottom of this. You sit tight, stay in the office, and I’ll call back as soon as I know what’s going on.”
“Okay, but . . .” I am about to ask her to come get me—I don’t want to sit here waiting—but she has already hung up. I hand the phone back to Ms. Patel.
“Everything okay, hon?” she asks me.
“My mom is going to call back,” I tell her. “I need to wait here.”
“Wait in the nurse’s office if you want,” Ms. Patel gestures toward the closet-sized office behind the counter.
“Okay, thanks.” I am grateful to be somewhere that’s not so public. I am still trying to keep from crying. I lay down on the padded table, the crunchy paper covering scrunches up under my shoulders in an uncomfortable lump. I close my eyes. I can’t stand waiting. I try not to think. Isn’t that what meditation is? I can’t do it. I am thinking about what not to think about. I sit up and start ripping the crunchy paper into little flakes. I put them in my pocket.
Ms. Patel sticks her head around the corner. “Ariel, it’s your mother. You can take it in here.” She picks up a wall-mounted phone, pushes a blinking light and hands me the receiver. Then she just stands there.
I press the receiver into my chest and give her a tight smile. I am not going to hear potentially terrible news with her standing over me. “Thanks, Ms. Patel.” She stands there two more seconds, and then finally leaves.
“Mom?”
“Oh, Ariel, this is really something . . . your dad did collapse,” she is almost laughing as she says this.
“What?”
“Remember how the Godfather commercial was going to be filmed? We were laughing about it last night at dinner. Your dad was going to have a heart attack like Don Corleone did in the movie. He was going to use the community garden as the site, remember? So I bet the police were talking about it on the air, on the police scanner, maybe keeping people back, making sure traffic kept moving. You know how the community garden is so visible downtown.”
Things click into place for me instantly. “Yeah, Mom, it makes sense. Oh God, everyone thinks he really did keel over and have a heart attack or something. And all the kids are being so nice to me. Now I’m gonna look like a complete idiot when everyone knows it was all fake.” I am talking quietly, away from Ms. Patel, who is pretending to sort papers on the counter by the door.
“Ariel, it was a misunderstanding. No big deal. I am sorry if you were worried. I must admit your call did give me a fright. But everything’s okay,” she giggles, “and actually, I think it is kind of funny.”
“Ha.” I say it like it is the most unfunny thing I have ever heard. The bell rings, and I say good-bye and hang up. Ms. Patel asks me if everything is okay again. I nod briefly and leave.
I said earlier that Dad spoofs movies to make commercials for Island Sweets. When I was watching The Godfather for the fourth time a month or so back, he sat down and watched with me. That’s when he came up with the idea for two TV spots.
In the movie, there is this really awful, bloody scene, involving a horse’s head in this guy’s bed. I will not lie—it’s a disturbing sight. But anyway, Dad thought it would be hilarious to recreate the scene using chocolate. In the movie the guy wakes up and is covered in blood, and it’s all dramatic as he peels back the silk sheets and finds his horse’s head. Then he starts screaming.
Dad did the same scene for his ad, using the exact same silk sheets, and with the same music, but he is covered in chocolate as he dramatically pulls back the covers to reveal a huge pile of tofu and barley and stuff. Health nut foods. Then he screams dramatically like the guy in The Godfather did and the voiceover says, “Island Sweets, a family tradition since 1922.”
The thirty second spot was very popular. I think a few people might have even watched the movie because of it. Not that many kids had seen The Godfather before, but I know of at least two kids (okay, so they’re M and Nicki, but I bet other kids did too) who were interested in seeing it because of Dad’s commercial. Everyone thought it was hysterical, and so Dad decided to follow-up with another spot inspired by The Godfather.
This time he would do the death scene of Vito Corleone, the main character in the movie. In the movie, Vito is walking in his tomato garden with his grandson when he has a heart attack. My dad was going to spoof it in the Alameda community vegetable garden, where he was made-up and dressed to look just like Vito did in that scene. The son of a lady who makes custom wedding cakes for Dad’s store would play the grandson role. Dad would stroll through the garden and doing his imitation
