by Vanda
“It’s the depression, Mom. Nobody’s got regular work.”
“You tell her,” Dad says.
“The radio’s always saying—” I try to continue.
“You’re a kid. What do you know?”
“But you asked me.”
“Don’t talk back. You gotta get a job, Artie, a real one. Sign up for the WPA.”
“My mother would die if I went on the dole.”
“The WPA isn’t a handout. You’d be working.”
“And who would ever hire me again after I worked for the We Poke Along Gang; you know employers don’t hire workers after they’ve worked for them.”
“Well, what are we sposed to do?” Mom yells.
“I’ll ask my mother for this month’s mortgage.”
“You will not! I don’t want her coming round here looking down on me any more than she already does. It’s bad enough she buys some of Alice’s school clothes. And I mean some , not all like she brags to her friends. They’re gonna put us out on the street, Alice. We’re gonna be eating out of garbage cans, and on Ragamuffin Day it’s not only you, Alice, who’s gonna be dressed up like a poor ragamuffin begging for pennies and candies. Your father and mother are gonna be there right beside you.”
“No. Mom, you can’t. Only kids dress up as ragamuffins on Ragamuffin Day. You’re sposed to be home cooking the Thanksgiving turkey. ”
“You think we’re gonna afford a Thanksgiving turkey?”
I got up to walk. My feet felt frozen so pacing wasn’t easy; I headed back to sit on the porch, but then I stopped. I remembered a story I read in tenth grade English class about a man who froze to death in the snow. Toward the end, he started to fall asleep and then he got warm and then he died. I couldn’t fall asleep. I had to keep walking. I had to keep feeling cold. Then I’d know I wasn’t dying. I forced myself to march back and forth, banging my feet on the cement. I must not fall asleep. I must not fall asleep.
I touched my lips and felt Juliana’s kiss. That warmed me up a little. I remembered the program I had on the dresser under my copy of War and Peace. I remembered how she wouldn’t sign it till we knew each other better. Maybe she’d be signing it soon. We certainly were getting to know each other better. I slowly turned in the direction of her place, but my feet wouldn’t move forward. I should go there and … I can’t. I remembered that time at the Café Society when she wouldn’t talk to me. I couldn’t just show up on her doorstep like some helpless …. I slumped down onto the porch. Jumped up again. March. I must not fall asleep. I must not fall asleep.
At two, the wind kicked up, tossing a few garbage pails down the empty street. A cat screeched in the distance and I jumped. My mother screamed in the wind. I covered my head with my arms so I didn’t hear the sound. Aggie and Dickie would be here soon, but it was getting harder to stay awake and my legs and feet ached with cold. I grabbed the handrail. My body was folding, melting. The wind howling, Mom howling, chasing me with the carving knife, throwing me into the cold night, me banging on the door for hours. Mommy, Mommy. Let me in. I fall asleep on wet leaves under the porch. Dad gets home from the bakery as the sun appears in the sky, sees me, and knows. He takes me to Finnegan’s Diner for a dish of vanilla ice cream.
Two thirty came and went with no Dickie and Aggie. I put my hands deep into my pockets to get feeling back and I found Dickie’s money. I held the bills in front of me under a streetlight and took out the last dollar I had in my purse. This would never be enough for a room at the Brevoort. The Valencia down the street was a horrible place where not-nice ladies met gentlemen with not good intentions. I wondered about the Earle on Waverly, but when I started to head in that direction I heard Mrs. Minton say, “And you know what people think of young girls who show up alone in a hotel lobby in the middle of the night.”
I decided to search for an all-night diner, instead. That at least would be somewhat more respectable even if I did get stared at. My hands were so cold I could hardly move them. Stiff, I walked to Third Avenue. It was empty and dark. The El blocked out even the moon. The wind screamed through a broken rain gutter that banged against the front of a building. I covered my ears to block the sound.
The sign I’d seen that warm June day the first time I walked down this street was now lit by a flickering street lamp: Rooms 20 cents. No, I can’t stay there. This night will pass. I can make it through this night. I pulled my hat down over my head as far as it would go. The El raced past, and its sound echoed and throbbed through me. That boy—the one I didn’t give my coat to. I saw his watery eyes peering at me from behind a dented cardboard box. I pulled my coat around me tighter and kept walking. Shadows from run-down buildings and telephone poles crossed my path. No one but me walked this street.
A car slowed down and an old guy leaned out the window. He lit a cigarette and threw the match at me. “Hey, hon, where ya headed? Wanna lift?”
“No. Go away, please.”
“How much ya want, honey? Me and my buddy here got money.”
I stopped short. “You think I’m a …?”
I ran away as fast as I could till I smashed right into a telephone pole at the end of the block. My finger felt the scrape on my forehead where a few drops of blood formed. When I turned, the car was gone. I leaned my back against the pole, tears forming. A man in a doorway, holding a bottle, slipped and fell into the gutter and stayed there. Pieces of garbage twisted and floated down the sidewalk. My mother was right. I’d landed in the gutter. Mommy, Mommy, let me in. I’ll be good.
“ Mommy,” I whispered, but not even an echo answered me back. Danny, where are you? You said you’d take care of me. Where are you? Why don’t you answer the phone? I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I’m cold and I’m tired and I can’t. I sucked back my tears.
Max! He lives near here. I started running. Please, God, let Max be home. Please don’t let him slam the door in my face.
I ran up Seventh Street and back over all the avenues again; I passed Washington Square College and ran through the park. I skidded to a stop in front of Max’s apartment and inched down the steps. I peered in the window. It was dark in there. I knocked on the door, timidly at first, wanting and not wanting to disturb him; no one came. I knocked again. Harder. Harder. And harder until I was almost mad with fear, cold and knocking.
A light came on in the room. “All right, take it easy, Slag,” Max’s voice called. “I’m coming.”
Max threw open the door and I charged in. “Thank God. You’re a life—” I turned and saw that Max wore a pink bathrobe with feathers around the neck and sleeves.
“Hey, is that you, Slag, making all that …?” Danny walked into the room. Naked.
“It’s not Slag,” Max said.
“Danny?” I said.
“Oh, gosh,” Danny said, running out of the room.
“What—what …?” I paced. “What are you …?
“Take it easy, Al.” Max said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“No?” I yelled. “No? It’s not? It’s not? ”
“No,” Max said. “Now, if we all sit down calmly and—”
Danny dashed back into the room, this time wearing pants. He held his shirt, jacket, shoes, hat, and coat in his arms. As he made his way to the door, he dropped a shoe, bent to pick it up, and dropped his hat.
“Here let me help you,” Max said, handing him the hat.
Danny grabbed the hat from Max and dropped another shoe. Max tried to hand it to him, but Danny ran out the door leaving various articles of clothing behind.
“Danny!” I called out the door. I looked back at Max in his frilly bathrobe desperate for some sensible answer. His toenails were painted red.
Max said, “Breakfast anyone?”
Chapter Fourteen
“You want your eggs scrambled, over easy, or what?” Max called from his kitchen.
“Who cares? Danny and I were sposed to go to his mother’s house for Thanksgiving. Now what? What do
I tell his mother?”
“Well, not this . Mothers hate it when you tell them their sons are queer.”
“Don’t call Danny that. He’s not that. He’s just … I don’t know. Confused. We’re gonna get married.”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Max walked into the room carrying a tray filled with our breakfast. “I made you scrambled. It’s all I know how to make. Eat up.” He placed the plate of eggs and a glass of orange juice on the coffee table in front of me. “Be careful of that plate. It’s Wedgewood.”
“I can’t eat.”
“You eat. I cooked it. You eat it. Here, at least drink the orange juice.” He held the glass against my lips. “Drink.”
I took a sip.
He put the glass back down on the coffee table.
“Now, you drink that. It’s good for you.” He sat down on the overstuffed chair across from me, holding a cup, a “Wedgewood” cup, I supposed, whatever that meant. He still wore his fluffy bathrobe, but now he had on fluffy slippers too.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“You don’t like it? I thought pink went well with my eyes.”
“ You tricked Danny into this. He looked up to you, and you used it against him to convince him he was this thing like you, but he’s not. I hate you.”
“Swell. Hate me. But know this, sweetheart,” he leaned forward, “I didn’t do anything to your beau that he didn’t want. Danny is who he is because he was born that way no matter what the shrinks say, and as sad as it may be, honey, you don’t figure into it at all. So if you wanna save yourself a lot of heartache, forget about marrying him, because if you two do get married it’ll be the ruin of both of you.”
“You’re lying. You lie about everything. You lied about Juliana. You hardly know her.”
Max laughed. “Did she tell you that?” He pushed a cigarette into his holder. “Dear Juliana. How she does go on.”
“You’re just a nobody. Look at this place. What kinda rich producer would live in this dump?”
“Now, you hold on. First, this is not a dump. I may live in a run-down neighborhood and this place may be small—”
“And the doorbell doesn’t work.”
“But the décor is exquisite. Look at that wallpaper. Designed in Paris. Look at that couch. Satin. You will never find another apartment in this neighborhood with a satin couch.”
I picked up the clay ashtray that looked like it’d been made by a child. “And this ugly ashtray?”
“Put that down.” His eyes burned like coals as he took the ashtray out of my hand. “This is the most valuable item in the whole apartment.” He put it back on the coffee table. “Don’t you ever touch that again. I never said I was rich. I was once, and I shall be again. I’m, as they say, between situations, but you do not get to call me a nobody, you little twerp. I’ll have you know I was once the youngest club owner in this city. I was a phenomenon. Young beautiful talent, boys and girls, groveled at my feet just for an audience with me. The Herald Tribune called me a genius at recognizing new talent. Juliana would be a star today if she’d stuck with me. I brought a musical to Broadway when I was only nineteen. So, don’t you tell me who I am. Who the hell are you? What are you doing for your career?”
“I’m studying with Mrs. Viola Cramden.”
“Who the hell is she? Some washed-up old windbag who couldn’t make it herself so she teaches young hopefuls how to not make it, too? You’re a lot of talk, Miss Alice Huffman.” He went to the piano. “Time to actually do something. Get up here and sing a few bars.”
My throat tightened.
“Get over here. You wanna tell me I’m nobody. Let’s hear who you are.”
Stiff-legged I walked to the piano. Max did a running chord over the keys. “What’ll it be, sweetheart? You choose. I can play them all.”
“You Do Something to Me?” I squeaked out.
“Really? ” Max said, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, really. What’s the matter? You don’t know it?”
“Please . Cole Porter wrote it for me. I was just expecting something sweet like ‘A-Tisket A-Tasket.’“
“Just play this rickety old secondhand piano. ”
He played the opening bars, expecting me to jump in, but nothing came out of my mouth.
“Well?” he said.
“I—I was, uh, getting ready.”
“Are you ready now?”
I stood straighter, but as he played my voice came out as a whisper.
“I can’t hear you. You have to project. From the diaphragm.” He hit himself in the stomach.
“I know. I know. I have studied you know.” I was the only student in Miss Applegate’s Sunday school choir who she gave private lessons to once a month. She said I had a very nice voice, and she was always telling me to sing from the diaphragm.
“Start over.” Max played the introduction again.
I decided I would just push it out there no matter what happened so I sang loud. Just loud.
“Stop,” Max said.
“I can do better. I was just nerv—”
“It’s not nerves, honey. Trust me. I know. You have a sweet voice. Pleasant to listen to. You have the kind of voice that works well around a campfire or for singing a lullaby to small children, but as the saying goes, ‘you ain’t got it.’” His expression turned unexpectedly gentle. “Look, try out for some nonmusical roles. That might work for you. Ask Mrs. Cramden for help.”
“You said she was an old windbag.”
“She probably is. That doesn’t mean she can’t help you. I don’t know much about straight theater.” He raised his eyebrows. “For all sorts of reasons.”
I flopped back down onto Max’s couch. “Things aren’t sposed to be this way. Aggie, Dickie, Danny, and I were all gonna be stars. We started planning it in third grade. And then, once we were stars, Aggie and Dickie were gonna get married, and Danny and I were …. Hey, wait a minute. What about you? You’re getting married.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah, you have a fiancée. That woman you were with at the Moon in June Café. Miss, uh—”
“Virginia Sales.”
“Yeah. So if you can marry her then I can—”
Max sighed. “Virginia and I are not getting married. She’s my beard.”
“Your what?”
“You require so much education. Virginia likes to go out to nice places. She can’t go unescorted so I take her. Virginia knows about my ‘activities’ and doesn’t mind posing as my fiancée; that way I can conduct my ‘business’ undisturbed. Do you want to be Daniel’s beard?”
“Daniel? You call him Daniel? He hates that.”
“Not when I do it.” He blew out a stream of smoke. “There are many things Daniel does not hate when I do them. ”
“You’re disgusting.”
“That’s what I’ve been told. Do you wish to be Daniel’s beard?”
“No.”
“A wise choice.”
“’Cause he doesn’t need one. He’s normal. You’ve just twisted everything up in his head. He’s very impressionistic.”
“Impressionable. And if you prefer to believe that, fine.”
“What do I do about him?” I asked. “Can you just tell me that?”
“I don’t know. Something. Nothing.”
“I have to do something. We’ve been friends since we were babies. We’re a team. We take care of each other. I should call him, shouldn’t I? I can’t. He’s turned into something I don’t understand. No—you turned him into this other thing. Something bad, but he’s not bad. I gotta turn him back. That’s all.” I grabbed my coat.
Max laughed. “Oh, yes, you do that, hon. Change him right back. How many women have said that? ”
“You’re a horrid person. A devil. I gotta get outta here.” I headed for the door. “Nothing can come from talking to you. I got enough problems.”
“And how is Juliana these days?”
Chapter Fifteen
The sun came up over Grace Church, its spires poking through the early morning fog. I rounded the corner heading toward Hope House. I opened the door, my heart thundering. I’d just lost the only person I ever really loved, the career I’d been planning since third grade, and now, I was about to lose the roof over my head.
Inside, I leaned against the banister expecting Mrs. Minton to come charging out of the kitchen waving a fist, but she didn’t. My feet were heavy weights as I took each step upward. I opened the door to my room. Aggie jumped from her bed and threw her arms around me.
“Oh, Al, where have you been? I’ve been so worried. When I got home and you weren’t here and then Mrs. Minton charged in and pulled the sheets off your bed ….”
I looked at my bed. It was as naked as when I first arrived in June.
“She’s kicking me out?” I asked Aggie, afraid to hear the answer.
“Well, there may be a way out of this.”
“WHERE WERE YOU?” I exploded at Aggie. “I waited and waited.”
“When?”
“Last night. You were sposed to come home with Dickie by two thirty. I waited for you on the steps.”
“Oh, you poor, dear. You must’ve been so cold. My boss let me off early. He likes me.” She smiled and twirled in front of the mirror. “Dickie got me home by twelve thirty. Mrs. Minton likes it if sometimes I get home earlier than curfew, so to keep in her good graces I try to do it once in a while. You should really try with her.”
Aggie’s voice buzzed in the background of my thoughts. I stared out our window watching the morning traffic. I wondered where Danny was. I knew he had to feel alone. Danny felt alone even when he wasn’t alone, so now, he had to feel positively deserted.
“Anyway Al, I talked to her for you. Did you hear me?”
“Huh? What?” I turned to face her.
“I talked to Mrs. Minton for you. She said you could stay here if you called your mother with her standing by and told her that you missed your curfew. Then Mrs. Minton will talk to your mother and get permission to punish you a little and—”
