“No. No, thank you,” Ms. Michaels said. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“The trouble is that everything I care about is gone.”
Cricket hadn’t ever seen Dodo this upset before.
“Cricket? Is that your name?” Ms. Michaels asked.
“Yes,” Cricket said.
“Would you mind getting your friend here a glass of water?”
“Sure. She’s my grandmother.” Cricket went to the minibar and poured a glass of water and gave it to Dodo. “Here, Dodo.”
“Thank you, Cricket. Please tell this man how terrible it is. How awful it is. How tea is gone. How everything is ruined and how everything is missing.”
“Well,” Cricket said. And then she didn’t know what else to say. “Dodo. I think you’re a little bit confused. We just checked in today. You used to stay here all the time on buying trips. And when you used to come, they served tea in the Rotunda.”
“That’s right. They did. I used to come here all the time. And I stayed on the seventh floor. This is not a buying trip?”
“No. We’re just here, you and me.”
“I think I’m confused. What day is today?”
“It’s Friday. Well, actually, it’s Saturday morning now. We’re at the Pierre.”
“I love the Pierre.”
“So do I,” Cricket said. “I think we both got confused when we packed. Because I didn’t even bring my toothbrush.”
“The hotel can send up a toothbrush. Will that be helpful?” Ms. Michaels said, smiling to herself.
“Two toothbrushes. The hotel will have to send up two toothbrushes. Thank you,” Dodo said.
“Two toothbrushes and then are we out of the woods?” Ms. Michaels asked, clearly hoping the case of the missing luggage was closed.
“Yes, of course,” Dodo said in a way that implied all the confusion was the security officer’s fault. Cricket showed Ms. Michaels to the door.
“Are you all right? You’re a little young to be in charge of your grandmother.”
“She’s not usually like this. She’s probably tired. She used to come here a long time ago. She’s a little mixed up. Thank you.”
Ms. Michaels seemed satisfied and left. A few minutes later, housekeeping arrived with two toothbrushes.
“Dodo,” Cricket said, “I’m tired.”
“Oh, poor sweetheart, you must be. Take a sleep. I will join you. We can go to the museum later.”
Thank heavens, Cricket thought, and they each climbed aboard their ship of a bed. Cricket hoped their sleep would last a long time.
22
BARNEYS
Dodo woke in very good spirits. She didn’t seem to remember the incident with hotel security and Cricket didn’t bring it up. They’d slept in. Now they both got dressed. Dodo ordered coffee and pastries. Cricket had never been served coffee by her parents. She drank a whole cup with cream and lots of sugar and didn’t tell Dodo that Bunny wouldn’t approve. They left and went shopping. Dodo was determined to get some clothes.
Barneys was just a block away from the Pierre. It had a doorman, too. A man in a black suit opened the front door the moment they arrived. He barely made eye contact with either of them, but Dodo said, “Why, thank you,” as though he’d been waiting all morning just to hold the door for her.
Cricket was beginning to see that her grandmother loved attention from men (even when the men were women, like last night). All kinds of men: butchers, handymen, bellhops, and now the Barneys doorman.
Cricket thought the doorman was more interested in his walkie-talkie than he was in anything or anyone. It seemed old-fashioned of Barneys to give out walkie-talkies. Maybe they were less expensive than cell phones.
Dodo walked through the main floor, touching everything she could get her hands on. She marveled over each bangle, belt, hat, purse, and scarf like the merchandise was part of an interactive museum exhibit. She was in heaven. Cricket was very happy that her grandmother was happy again. The scare from the suitcase robbery must have passed.
It was only eleven-thirty in the morning, but Barneys was full of women Bunny’s age. Probably the very same women who would go to the August fund-raising gala in the Hamptons. Cricket bet she’d heard her parents complain about half the women in here. They drifted from counter to counter as though they had all the time in the world to shop. Bunny said that looking good was their vocation. They were always photographed at charity events and they wanted to look better than the people they were photographed with and they wanted to look better than they looked last time they were photographed with them. Bunny said they spent buckets of money on shoes and dresses and jewelry because everything they bought was a tax deduction.
Bunny—poor, poor Bunny. Because of her job she needed to seem rich even though she wasn’t rich. She needed to look great but never better than the people with the money. While all the women dressed up at the summer gala in their most special gowns, Bunny rented her dresses every year. Her mother was like Cinderella. At the end of every party her carriage turned back into a pumpkin.
The hair on Cricket’s arms was standing up and her glasses were fogging over because the air-conditioning was on full blast. All the salespeople were wearing jackets. They were dressed for December instead of June. She could never work here.
“Dodo,” Cricket said, wiping her glasses on her T-shirt, “aren’t you cold?”
“Yes, I’m freezing. It’s freezing in here.”
“Barneys is probably responsible for most of the polar bears dying off. Think how much energy and fuel and emissions and stuff would be conserved if this store alone just raised the temperature a little bit.”
“Cricket, have you been to Japan?”
“No,” Cricket said, smiling. “Not yet.” Cricket greatly appreciated Dodo allowing the possibility that she had been to Japan.
“In Japan, they’ve done what you’re saying. They are very formal people, the Japanese. But to help with carbon emissions they mandated all government buildings maintain an indoor temperature of eighty-two degrees in the summer. The professional dress code was adapted. No one wears suit jackets in the summer. Tomorrow we should go shopping in Japan.”
“Do you think I will like Japan?”
“Japan is wonderful,” Dodo said. “What’s not to like?”
The salespeople flocked around the charity crowd but steered clear of Dodo. Maybe Cricket hadn’t gotten all the dirt off her shirt when she’d washed it in the sink with the nice shampoo last night. Cricket was never taken seriously in stores either. “Never Taken Seriously: The Cricket Cohen Story.” She really hoped she could remember that title.
“Do you want a salesperson, Dodo?”
“No one likes old people, Cricket. Not even me. I told you that. The older you get, the less people see you. Unless you have cancer. Everybody respects a person with cancer. When Dodie got cancer,” Dodo said, “everyone rallied around. They were mad. They were furious. They were outraged. Cancer is something to fight. Old age? Forget it. You’re on your own and you’re not supposed to bother anybody with your complaints. No one considers old age an illness. Old age is like a person with bad luck. Everyone avoids you. Like it’s contagious … It is very sad, because everyone gets old.”
Maybe Dodo was right. When Bunny talked about her father during his cancer, she commended his courage. She was proud he’d enjoyed the end of his life, traveling and eating great food. She’d wanted him to live it up until the last possible moment. She’d told Cricket she was happy that he and Dodo had traveled as long as they could. On the other hand, when Bunny talked about Dodo, she didn’t mention bravery. She was more inclined to see Dodo as a nuisance. Dodo didn’t get encouragement to do what she loved. In fact, Bunny took Dodo away from everything she loved, everything that had defined her. Instead of respect, Dodo got the calendar.
“Cricket, I collect these scarves. I’m wearing that one, see? With the horse stirrups, that’s a classic,” Dodo said. She was in front of a ci
rcular display case.
Cricket wondered how a salesperson got behind it. There must be a hidden opening somewhere.
“Maybe one day you’ll choose one for yourself. From my drawer, if you like.” Dodo stared into the glass like Cricket wanted to stare at the fish in the aquarium.
Barneys had a sensational aquarium, according to Dodo. Cricket pretended to appreciate the scarves so that she could leave her grandmother to see the fish without feeling guilty.
The fish were just on the other side of the big room with the scarf display. Behind a wall of glass the neutral tones of high-end shopping were replaced by a brightly colored paradise of coral and fish the colors of peacocks. They were magnificent, gliding and swirling, weaving their way in and out and around the waving seaweed. And because it was Barneys and not a diorama at the Museum of Natural History, diamond rings and gold bracelets and jeweled necklaces hung from each piece of coral. The whole thing was so magical it almost made Cricket like jewelry.
She’d thought it was pretty glamorous to check into a hotel in the middle of the day in your own city, but what a life for a fish, swimming on the Upper East Side of Manhattan among sapphires and emeralds and twenty-two-karat gold. She wished she were in there. She loved swimming. And it had to be warmer in there. Tropical fish needed warm water.
A salesperson came by with a key and opened a lock. Cricket waited for all the water and all the fish to flood the floor.
But the salesperson was able to open a glass window and reach into a very dry display. She removed a necklace from a piece of coral, put it on a black velvet board, and locked the window. Cricket went closer to figure the whole thing out. It was so simple, she felt like an idiot. There were two tanks. A dry one, filled with coral and jewelry, and a wet one filled with plants and fish and the water. The whole thing was like a science-fiction world where children were exhibited behind glass. They appeared to play on jungle gyms in front of ice cream trucks. But they were alone in glass cages. She wanted to run home and write it down.
Dodo joined her for a minute but soon lost interest and moved on. Cricket stayed. The fish were so beautiful and lived such compromised lives. It was upsetting.
“Oh, Cricket, look!” Dodo said from across the way. “I found my shawl. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m not cold anymore. Let’s go for lunch.”
They’d just had breakfast. But Cricket wasn’t about to argue.
“You bought one like the one you lost?” Cricket asked.
“Look!” Dodo said. She held up a shawl that was lavender and yellow. Cricket didn’t remember ever seeing one like it. Was this like the one that Dodo thought Abby had taken? Was Dodo pretending?
“This is it!” Dodo repeated. “I’m so glad. We will have to tell the security people at the hotel. This is like a treasure hunt.”
Cricket tore herself away from the fish.
“Where did you find it?” Cricket said.
“A saleslady was showing it to another woman and she didn’t want it but I was delighted to find it. It would have looked awful on her. These are my colors.”
Cricket was glad that a salesperson had finally helped Dodo with something. That was why they’d come, after all, to go shopping.
They went across the floor, past the handbags, to the elevator bank and stood next to another man with a walkie-talkie. These guys in the dark suits with the walkie-talkies were everywhere. Cricket thought she’d enjoy using a walkie-talkie and learning all the walkie-talkie lingo: ten-four, copy, roger, and all that. The man with the walkie-talkie entered the elevator with them. Cricket pushed 9, and he pushed 8. Maybe if she got a walkie-talkie and was dressed warmly, like in a turtleneck sweater, and she got to hang out by the fish, she could work in Barneys. Maybe she would work here, get the keys, and sneak in one night and set all the fish free.
23
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE RESTAURANT
The man with the walkie-talkie got out on the eighth floor and Dodo waved goodbye. When the elevator doors opened on the ninth floor, the smell of grilled meats made Cricket hungry again. She discovered a text from Bunny: How are you and how is the essay? Bunny didn’t like being ignored. As Cricket was deciding whether to return the text, the battery died. She tried to think of something else, like the soothing sound of ice cubes tinkling against glassware.
The hostess led them to a table by the window, where they had a view of Madison Avenue below. Moments later a parade of service began. One man brought menus, another man filled their water glasses. An entirely different man arrived with a basket of bread and asked Cricket to select a roll, and when she did he used a set of tongs to place it delicately on her plate. When the waitress came to take their order Dodo ordered a cheese omelet.
“The same, please,” Cricket said.
“Cricket,” Dodo said quietly as soon as the waitress left, “did you notice the gentleman in the elevator? In the dark suit?”
“With the walkie-talkie?”
“Yes!” Dodo helped herself to some butter and spread it thickly on her roll. “He’s quite handsome. He’s following us. Don’t look now, but he’s over by the door.”
“Oh, Dodo!” Cricket said. She looked over to the door and sure enough there was a man with a walkie-talkie. But she was pretty sure it wasn’t the same man. There were men with walkie-talkies all over the store.
“I don’t get out much. Who knows what would happen if I did? He’s less than half my age. I mean, it’s a little inappropriate. But I guess when you’ve got it, you’ve got it!” Dodo winked. She wrapped herself tighter in her new shawl.
Cricket didn’t think any of the men in the dark suits were handsome or following them, but Dodo was enjoying the idea so much; why spoil it by contradicting her?
“You’ve got it all right,” Cricket said. “Your shawl is nice, too.” Cricket helped herself to butter with the little butter knife.
“I thought I’d never see this shawl again. That was some trip we took. He died a month later, you know. Here’s to Dodie.” Dodo raised her water glass and so did Cricket.
“I wish I’d gotten to know him,” Cricket said. But as she said it she thought that if she had, she would have also known a different version of her grandmother. The wifely version. The docile version. The version who followed a man, not a woman who led the way.
The waiter arrived with two beautiful omelets and, more important, two glorious metal cones lined with napkins, filled to the brim with french fries, with little pots of mayonnaise on the side. Dodo clapped. So did Cricket.
“It’s just like Belgium! They never use ketchup on their fries,” Dodo said, taking three fries at once and dipping them. “Oh my goodness. I am in heaven. Your grandfather was part of a big panel in Belgium. We ate in the most wonderful restaurants,” Dodo said, “and your grandfather, that remarkable scientist, squirted ketchup all over everything. Can you imagine? He was terrific. But the ketchup.”
There they were at a restaurant above Madison Avenue talking about the shame of ketchup like a couple of very fancy ladies. But Dodo would have been just as happy, had they not almost been killed by a roller skater, to be eating hot dogs from a cart in the park. She was versatile that way.
The light outside shifted. A big cloud had moved over the sun. Cricket wondered where her parents were right then and if they’d settled on a house. Her mother had been confident about some place they were seeing this morning. She didn’t want to think about it. She glanced at her now-dead phone and took a bite of her omelet. She replayed yesterday. She’d brought Dodo breakfast. Dodo had seemed sad. She didn’t like getting old. She missed Dodie. She said she wanted to run away. Cricket left the house with Dodo to have an adventure. She hadn’t really thought it through beyond that.
Exactly, her father would say when he finally reached her, you didn’t think.
Oh, Cricket, her mother would say, either your phone is charged at all times or it isn’t. The reasons are not important. What is important is that you didn’t do the simple thing that we
asked of you.
Oh, Cricket, what are we going to do with you?
“How’s your omelet?” Dodo asked. “Cricket, are you there?”
“Amazing,” Cricket said. “How is yours?”
“Just wonderful.”
Hoping her grandmother wouldn’t notice, Cricket reached for the elegant little single-serving ketchup bottle in the condiment basket next to the salt and pepper shakers. She wanted to dip a few french fries in something other than mayonnaise. But she wanted to do it as discreetly as possible.
“You are certainly your grandfather’s granddaughter,” Dodo said, catching her. “Will you excuse me? I’m going to the ladies’ room.”
Dodo had a little trouble getting up from the table at first. But eventually she figured out how to use the arms of her chair for leverage.
“See, byself! I did it,” Dodo said. She wove her way through the dining room and all the women who resembled Bunny, dressed in thousands of shades of tasteful neutral.
Cricket looked outside at all the bright green leaves. Maybe this summer would be better than she’d assumed. Dodo would be coming with them to the Hamptons, since she didn’t have an aide anymore. They could hide out and watch all the Bette Davis movies Cricket hadn’t seen yet. During all the boring fund-raising parties, they could pretend to be international spies and prepare dossiers on the guests. The next day they could raid the refrigerator together, digging up giant ziplock bags of leftovers. Maybe they’d eat blinis on the deck or feed cheese to the seagulls. It would be nice to have some company. Maybe she’d figure out a way to get Veronica invited, too. Dodo liked Veronica, even if Bunny didn’t.
A table nearby was vacated, and a busboy cleared plates. He probably made less money in a day than the people who left had spent on lunch, Cricket thought. The world was filled with unfairness like that.
Dodo wasn’t back, so Cricket went to check up on her. She almost bumped into Dodo’s supposed boyfriend standing outside the restaurant, walkie-talkie pressed to his ear. Maybe these guys really did find Dodo attractive after all.
The Half-True Lies of Cricket Cohen Page 10
