Waking Up in the Land of Glitter (24 page)

Chloe went back to the studio for the books. Ezra had so much World of Warcraft junk, all funded by her. She loaded it in
the cartons and shoved them in the laundry room. Once she returned from her trip, she would make sure to donate everything
to a children’s shelter. There. That was her good deed in all of this.

She pulled the light cord in the laundry room and just as the room went dark, a sparkle from the top shelf caught her attention.
She paused and pulled it again.

Star’s orphaned love shrine for Theo. Chloe figured she should just toss it and cut the ties with these locas, but her curiosity
got the best of her. She just had to peek. Chloe would never forget the first night at Sangria when she saw Star shove it
in the trash.

Chloe entered Ezra’s studio again, this time with the shrine. She situated herself at the table, tugged at the lamp chain
for extra light, and examined it. She found the art piece extraordinary. It had dice for feet, all kinds of shiny knickknacks
glued on it, and the contents consisted of mementos that relayed pasión. Star really did have talent. Such a shame she didn’t
show it off more. Chloe would give up her local fame just to be able to have an artistic bone in the tip of her finger. In
the center of the box rested a 3D novella picture of a hunky Mexican man about to devour the neck of a woman with big black
hair and a thick, heaving bosom. The speech bubble was in Spanish and it read,
Amame, como nunca has amado a nadie
. In English it meant
Love me like you’ve never loved anyone before
. Different kinds of glitter covered the outer edges and at the top was a white papier-mâché banner that said “Te amo.” I
love you.

Chloe turned the box over to find a message:

Theo,

If the sun should lose its fire,

And the moon should lose its glow,

If the stars that shine should never be seen again,

That wouldn’t diminish my love for you.

I would relight the sun so it would shine on your day.

I would rekindle the moon to illuminate your way.

I would harness the stars

And place them back in the heavens to say—

You are the love of my life and the heart of my soul.

I love you always and in all ways,

Estrella Feliz

Star’s love poem did Chloe in. She wiped her tears off on her sleeve. Twice. She cried partly on Star’s behalf, and the remaining
sobs for herself. She wished she had that kind of love for someone, or even crazier, that someone would ache enough for her
to make a romance shrine.

“Theo needs to see this again,” Chloe affirmed. She found a piece of purple art paper from Ezra’s desk and covered the box.
She scribbled a note on one of her handmade greeting cards and slipped it under the ribbon. When she returned from her trip,
she would give it to him.

When she finished, Chloe went into her office and retrieved two pieces of handmade paper with matching envelopes that Benecio
had given her last month. She sat at her desk, pulled out a pen, and wrote the first one to Star.

Dear Star

I’m leaving for a mini vacation to wrap my head around all that has happened. I hope to return a better person, someone like
you, who is not afraid to hold out for what she loves. I am so sorry for the mean-spirited words I said to you. It was a sick
way to deflect from my own inexcusable actions. I truly believe that good things come to those who work hard and play fair—that
means you, Star. I know we won’t see each other much anymore (I’ve been reassigned to Tucson), but I hope a bit of your infectious,
artistic energy has rubbed off on me. You are an incredibly gifted woman and I know you will become the strong Latina artist
you were meant to be. Best of luck with your art show. I know it will be a success. Everything you touch turns to gold—no,
make that glitter.

As you always say, “Peace out!”

Chloe

Setting the note aside, she began a second for Ofie.

Dearest Ofie,

I’m sitting at my kitchen table, tears streaming down my face, crying like a crazy woman. I wish I had the guts to call and
apologize for my behavior at La Pachanga. By no means did you deserve such a fierce confrontation. Every week you graciously
open your lovely home to me and stretch yourself to the limit to make sure I’m comfortable and happy. I’ve never had anyone
do that for me, and I probably never will again. I’m cringing right now thinking about the horrible things I said. In fact,
the minutes replay in my brain and it feels like I’m floating in the air, looking down at my body and I can’t believe the
ugly, hateful person I see below. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be like you, Ofie. Someone who sees beauty
in imperfection. You have a beautiful family that loves you very much, and that is the sign of a truly classy and successful
woman. We all have so much to learn from you. I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me and we can be friends
again.

Blessings to you and yours,

Chloe

I never thought I’d say this, but I really do miss your iced mochas!

She sealed and addressed them, then went back to packing. She boxed up all of Ezra’s remnants and left them on the curb for
bulk trash collection. She gathered her luggage, her sunglasses, iPod, but not her cell phone, turned off the lights, locked
up, and left for the airport. On the way out, she would mail the letters.

And that would mark the end of Crafty Chloe.

W
ell, that’s it. The last one. What do you think?” Star asked her dad right after she hung the final art piece in La Pachanga’s
gallery space. At last, the morning of her debut art exhibit had arrived, and she couldn’t be more prepared. She rubbed her
eyes, which stung from working through the night to paint the walls bright orange and barn red and apply a sheen of pink glitter
glaze over all of them.

“M’ija, they are beautiful.
You
are beautiful,” Al replied, scratching his chest over his Reggae Sunsplash T-shirt and stepping back to absorb the entire
collection in one view. “Last month you were in a panic to find your niche and here we have twenty-four intricate creations.
I am impressed.”

“Thank you,” Star said, as she curtsied. No drug in the universe could make her feel as high as she did right now. And to
think she had made the multidimensional pieces in less than two weeks.

Al clasped his hands behind his back and leaned his head to the side. “So why’d you go with love shrines instead of Día de
los Muertos? Something going on with Harrison that you want to share?”

Star, wearing overalls splattered with paint, hopped on a tall teal barstool trimmed in yellow fringe and inhaled the scent
of pork and beef chorizo that was being prepared in the kitchen. That meant it was almost seven a.m. and the usual breakfast
crowd would be arriving any minute. As her stomach growled it dawned on her that she hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. She
also realized how much she missed working at her family’s business.

“Earth to Estrella,” Al said, clapping his hands twice in front of her face.

“Sorry… My love shrines aren’t
that
kind of love, Dad. They are about
universal
love. And friendship. The things that make us happy and give us the ‘love shine,’ like mom always says. When our craft group
busted up is when this show was conceived. That night I cried so hard for Ofie. I felt so crappy for the way I’d judged her
because I thought crafty stuff was cheap and senseless. I couldn’t sleep, so I went to Mom’s craft room to try and make something.
Next thing I knew, I was playing with her paper punches, working her sewing machine, testing all her glues, and I think I
went through, like, fifty pounds of glitter! I made Ofie another friendship shrine, and then one for Chloe and Benecio too.
From there, I thought about all the things and people I love. I had a revelation. All these years, I put myself in this rigid
box thinking that to be an artist you have to have a serious message. I wouldn’t allow myself to create until I thought I
had a worthy statement, when all along I did—we all do, it’s love!”

Al strolled along the gallery walls, inspecting each love shrine and taking in his daughter’s spontaneous dissertation.

“Making these love shrines,” she continued, “has taught me that art is about transferring something you are passionate about
into something for the senses. That’s it, plain and simple. As soon as I let go of my stigma about crafts, the creativity
rushed in. I hope Mom knows I’m going to take over her craft room.”

Al laughed as he pictured mother and daughter in a tug-of-war over a glue gun. “My daughter is finally a true artist.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just Star Esteban, who had to cram for this show. The real artist is Ofie. She’s made hundreds of one-of-a-kind
pieces and no one appreciated them. Who knows if she will ever make anything again? I wish I’d had my epiphany sooner. I can’t
change the past so that’s why I dedicated this show to her, to let the world know she inspired me. I’m also donating half
of tonight’s proceeds to Fresh Start Women’s Foundation in her honor. Who knows, maybe I’ll teach workshops there!”

“Even better, maybe you can empower them to make their own love shrine,” he recommended. Dad could always top an idea.

“I wish Ofie, Chloe, and Benecio would come tonight.” Star sighed.

“You know Chloe is out of touch, Benecio said he’d come, and Ofie is home with Anjelica. Poor kid has the flu,” Al said.

Star slumped on the barstool, propped her arms up on her knees, and rested her head in her hands. “I think Ofie is making
up Anjelica’s flu just to avoid me.”

Al didn’t want to see his girl sink back into sadness. He quickly changed the subject. “So, did you make one of these for
Harrison?”

“Of course!” she said, trying to pep herself up for her dad’s sake if not for her own. She pointed across the room to a fireman’s
hard hat. “I made it inside his old helmet. It’s lined with gravel from the parking lot at George & Dragon. But this shrine
is not like the one I made for Theo. I was living on another planet back then. This one is cute and light. Not so desperate.”

Al strolled over to the art piece and chuckled. “You are something else, Estrella. Very creative. But tell me honestly, are
you and Harrison getting serious?”

Star batted her eyes. “I wouldn’t say serious, but we are hanging out more. He’s cool. He doesn’t overanalyze every move I
make. At least
he’s
coming tonight. He doesn’t know anything about Día de los Muertos, so I’m going to be his personal tour guide.”

“Sounds like you have it all under control. How are the centerpieces coming along?”

Star gulped. The centerpieces did not fall in the “under control” category. Since the group’s demise, neither Ofie, Chloe,
nor Star had spoken to one another. She had received a nice letter from Chloe, but when Star tried to call, all she got was
an outdated message. And Star called Larry every day to check on Ofie, but he had asked Star not to visit just yet. Regardless,
she sent each member of the group an invite anyway and prayed they would come. Not for the sake of the CraftOlympics, but
because she missed them. Thank God at least Benecio stayed in contact, bless his little handbag-making heart.

Just as Star opened her mouth to explain that she and Benecio would handle it, she saw her mother enter the gallery.

“For you, Star!” Dori said, presenting her daughter with a lush bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. “They were sitting outside
our front door this morning!”

Star jumped off the barstool and her dad followed. Roses always helped a girl regain her energy. She closed her eyes and inserted
her face into the flowers to let the soft petals skim her cheeks. “Read the card, Dad! Read the card!”