Writing a Wrong

by Betty Hechtman

  ‘Really?’ she said perking up. ‘That’s an interesting proposition. I could certainly do that.’

  She looked at the menu with a thoughtful expression. ‘I suppose you could write the descriptions from what I tell you, but it would be more authentic if you tasted everything, including the treats.’ Her gaze moved up and down the counter nervously, as if she didn’t know where to start.

  ‘I could do that. I’m doing it for the other food clients I have. We can start with the Chocodelite and pick up with more tasting the next time. We need to have your story in the publicity copy. I can get that when we meet again.’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ she said, reaching over the counter and shaking my hand. ‘Thank you.’

  I walked away feeling jazzed about working with her, totally ignoring it wasn’t going to help my bottom line. A description of the chocolate drink was already forming in my mind. It would be interesting doing some research on coffee and coffee stands. And those mug cakes looked delicious. The only problem was, how was I going to keep all the tasting I was doing for my clients from taking up permanent residence on my hips? It was only when I got home that I realized I’d never gotten a chance to ask her if she knew Ms Sandusky. But who knew I was about to get something better?

  FOURTEEN

  It was late when I finally got home, and it was Tuesday which meant the writing group. I quickly set up a folder for the coffee place, realizing I didn’t even know what the name of it was. I typed in the description of the drink I’d had and a rough idea of what I was going to do for her. There was no reason for a proposal since it was going to be a barter arrangement.

  The group, as always, had left the pages we’d read out loud for me to look over and comment on. I’d meant to read them over before, but the whole Ted situation had thrown me off. I was going to move to the burgundy-colored wing chair to read, but Rocky was curled up asleep in it.

  Instead I moved into the living room. It was easier to read Ed’s pages over silently. It wasn’t my place to judge what he wanted to write, just help him make it as good as possible. Besides, he’d actually found a place for his work on a website. I had to remind myself that he was writing situations for a fictitious dating show where his hero (who bore a striking resemblance to Ed) got to choose between a plethora of famous women. Most of their time seemed to be spent in the Getting to Know You Suite.

  He had put in more conversation, but still most of the time was spent describing body parts and what they were doing. I made a few marks and set it aside.

  Tizzy had left the pages we’d read from the time-travel novel she was working on, but also the beginning of a time-travel short story. It took place in the late 1950s Hyde Park. It was fascinating realizing what the neighborhood had been like then. It was before the so-called urban renewal that had meant so many old buildings were torn down. Some of the old buildings had been hotels built for the 1893 World’s Fair. The rooms had been grouped together to form apartments. The rent had been cheap and the neighborhood was filled with artists, writers, beatniks, folk singers and improv comedians, along with students from all over the world. She blended the history in with the story by making her time-traveler confused about where she was because the landscape was so different.

  Daryl, as always, was too bent on including every step her character took. I drew some lines through a number of passages to eliminate them and wrote a note – What do you think? I paused, looking at Ben’s pages. He had come a long way from the staccato conversation he’d written at first. Now his cop was showing some emotion, much like Ben was. I made a few grammar changes and wrote on it: Good work, keep it up. It was the truth, but I wondered what I would have done if it wasn’t. Now that we were friends, would I be able to honestly offer criticism?

  When I finally looked up, I was surprised to see it was almost dark. I went around turning on lights and cleared off my dining-room table. I was still in the leggings and sweatshirt and switched out the sweatshirt for a deep purple tunic.

  Tizzy was the first arrival, but then she lived in a house just down the street. There was just my building and one more before the block turned into all houses. ‘So, what happened? Did you talk to Zooey? Did she hire you?’ Tizzy asked as she came in.

  ‘We worked something out,’ I said, before leaning out into the hall to see if anyone else was coming before continuing. I didn’t want anyone else in the group to hear that I’d looked at some work she hadn’t brought to the group. ‘I really liked the beginning of your story,’ I said. She smiled and got even more animated.

  ‘It was hard to capture everything. Like now, the neighborhood was a real melting pot. I didn’t think of it when you were talking before, but I was curious what 53rd was like in those days. Laurel gave me an old photograph of the shoe store and the surrounding places.’ She held out her hand. ‘I thought you might want to look at it and then you can give it back to her.’

  I looked at the black-and-white photo. The family was lined up in the front of the store. Laurel was standing between her parents and her brother. I stared at the picture, putting it together with the woman I’d met. She looked so young in the picture, before life left its stamp on her face.

  We were already in the dining room when Ben arrived, which was ironic since he came from his sister’s, but I gathered that Mikey put up a fuss about his leaving.

  Ed looked down the hall toward the front of the apartment. ‘Where’s Mr Fancy Dresser?’

  I was thinking about how to answer, but Tizzy jumped in. ‘He’s dead. He lived in that red-brick high-rise. The police think he interrupted a burglary.’

  Ed and Daryl both reacted with surprise and Tizzy continued. ‘His girlfriend is the one who found him, which I think is suspicious, but Veronica knows more than I do. She was interviewed once by the detective investigating the case.’

  ‘Twice,’ I said with a wince.

  Ben shot me a troubled look and I glossed over the two meetings with Detective Jankowski. ‘He wanted to know about a check Ted had written to me.’

  ‘Ted? I thought his name was Tony,’ Ed said.

  ‘Both of them were his names, but it seems that Ted is the real one,’ I said.

  ‘If he was killed in a burglary, they can’t think you’re a suspect,’ Daryl said.

  ‘What about the second time you talked to the detective?’ Tizzy said.

  ‘It was kind of awkward. I was curious about the name on the apartment and was in the vestibule when the detective came out. He took advantage of our chance meeting and got me to go out for coffee with him.’ I watched Ben shaking his head with concern. Obviously, he knew about the ‘getting a cup of coffee’ ploy. ‘He asked me about the letters I wrote for Ted and asked if he could see them.’ Ben looked really worried now.

  ‘Of course, I said no,’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘You don’t write a mystery without learning about cop tricks.’ Ben let out his breath and relaxed.

  ‘What do you think happened?’ Daryl asked.

  ‘I’m trying to find out,’ I said. Ben closed his eyes and shook his head in disapproval.

  We finally got to reading and I talked Tizzy into letting the group hear the partial of the story she’d given me. They all liked it, even Ed.

  ‘You gave me an idea of someone my guy could have an encounter with,’ he said with a leer. ‘Princess Margaret was a babe then.’

  They all trooped to the front when we were done. Ben went out last and put the door on the latch.

  I was clearing up in the dining room when he came back upstairs from his sister’s and let himself in. He was holding up a covered dish. ‘It’s quiche and salad. Really good, too.’ He looked at the table and then toward the kitchen. ‘Where do you want it?’

  I stopped what I was doing and pointed toward the front. ‘I’ll grab some drinks.’ He popped a bottle of beer out of his pocket.

  ‘I travel prepared,’ he said.

  I joined him with a glass of sparkling water and cutlery. He was already in his usual
spot and had put the food on the coffee table.

  The only tasting I’d done that day was the Chocodelite and I was starving. I dug in right away and Ben was right, it was delicious.

  ‘I probably should let you eat first,’ he said. ‘But what was that you said about finding out what happened to your client? Were you really looking at the names on the bells when you ran into that detective? You know, I told you before that the cops don’t appreciate civilians getting involved in their cases. You didn’t tell him you were playing detective, did you?’ Ben let out his breath and took a slug of his beer.

  I put the fork down. ‘Wow, that’s the most emotional I’ve ever seen you,’ I said. He seemed a little embarrassed and hid it by taking another drink from the bottle. ‘To answer everything. Yes, I do want to know what happened to Ted. Yes, I was looking at the bells, but the detective never even asked me about it. No, I didn’t tell him I was playing detective. I didn’t tell him much of anything.’ I let out a groan. ‘I didn’t find out much either.’

  Ben urged me to keep eating, but he seemed troubled, so I finally put down the fork. ‘There’s something on your mind. What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know if I should tell you now,’ he said.

  ‘Now that you’ve said that, you have to.’ I didn’t quite put my hand on my hip, but I did cock my head with a touch of attitude.

  He took a minute, probably trying to figure out how not to tell me whatever was on his mind, but in the end he relented. ‘I asked around and well, they’ve dropped the random burglary idea. It has to do with how he was stabbed and the fact that usually those random burglar types just want to get out of a place.’

  ‘So tossing the place was a cover-up?’ I said.

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. It does seem like someone was looking for something in particular.’ Ben put his hand up. ‘I’m not saying anymore. You did the right thing not showing Jankowski the letters. He was just seeing what he could get from you.’

  ‘He got nothing,’ I said. ‘Can’t you give me more details about what the cops think happened?’

  ‘You said there might be dancing at the engagement party,’ Ben said.

  ‘That’s an abrupt change in the conversation,’ I said with a surprised smile. ‘The answer is yes. What’s the problem? You don’t know how?’

  ‘Actually, I do,’ he said. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I did work for a dance gym, remember? It included taking a lot of classes. I’m good on folk dances and I do a mean shuffle ball change. I know my ballet turns,’ I said, getting up and doing a twirl across the room. ‘See, not even dizzy.’

  ‘But what about your basic slow dance?’ he said.

  ‘It’s been awhile, but isn’t it just holding on to each other and shuffling our feet?’

  ‘Not exactly. Want to give it a shot at practicing?’ He’d pulled out his phone, then got up and held out his hand as a slow love song began to play.

  ‘Really? Here? Now? Your sister is going to hear weird footsteps coming from up here.’

  ‘She’s putting Mikey to bed and she always falls asleep in the chair in his room.’ He held his hand out again. ‘The song’s going to be over soon.’

  I got up and we assumed the dance position. It felt awkward and strange to be so close to him, but then we fell into the rhythm of the music. As soon as it ended, he backed away so quickly, I almost fell backwards. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I really have to go.’ He was on his way to the door as he said it.

  ‘What about Sara’s plate?’ I said. ‘It’ll just take me a minute to wash it. You always say she wants it back right away.’

  ‘That’s just so I’ll stay here,’ he said. ‘You can give it to her tomorrow. She’s probably asleep in the chair in Mikey’s room anyway. By the time she wakes up, she won’t even remember the plate.’ He had his hand on the door now and seemed desperate to make a fast exit.

  ‘Was it something I said?’

  ‘No. It’s nothing about you. It’s all about me.’ He went out the door. ‘Goodnight,’ he said as he closed it behind him.

  FIFTEEN

  Ben was on my mind when I awoke the next morning. There was what he’d said about the investigation into Ted’s death and then there was how he’d acted when he left. Frankly, I was confused. It seemed like we were getting along just fine and since we kept it at being friends there were no demands on him. What could be the problem? The only thing I could figure was that our slow dance made him uncomfortable. I thought about texting him, but what would I say? Oh, well, if I had to go to the engagement party alone it wasn’t the end of the world. Or I could take Tizzy up on loaning me Theo, I thought with a chuckle.

  As long as I’d made the barter agreement with Zooey, there seemed to be no reason to bother making coffee at home. Besides, hers was far more interesting and better than what I made at home. I’d bring her my description of the Chocodelite, thinking she could start using it.

  I knocked on Sara’s door on my way out to drop off her plate. She smiled when she saw it was me. ‘At last, an adult human to talk to,’ she said. Mikey was holding on to her leg, dressed in a diaper and a shirt.

  I held out the plate. ‘I was just dropping this off.’ She appeared disappointed and looked down at Mikey, who had let go of her leg but was now rolling around on the floor.

  ‘Could I persuade you to come in for a few minutes? Just long enough to watch Mikey while I take a shower?’ She was wearing sweats and her hair was falling out of whatever she’d used to pull it back. How could I say no?

  It was a little strange to walk into her apartment. It was laid out exactly like mine, but at the same time seemed different. The living room was painted lemon yellow and the floor was littered with Mikey’s trucks. I followed her down the hall to the dining room, which they had made into a den. There were more toys and a big-screen TV. She took the plate from me and gave me a quizzical look. ‘Ben usually brings the plates back,’ she said. ‘Did something happen?’

  I certainly wasn’t about to tell her that her brother had freaked out because of a slow dance. ‘He just forgot to take it,’ I said. ‘He said something about you falling asleep in the chair in Mikey’s room when you put him to bed. Ben probably didn’t want to wake you.’

  ‘He told you about that?’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I put on the lullaby music box for Mikey and it knocks me out every time.’ She went on into the kitchen to leave the plate. ‘Make yourself at home.’ She pointed to the couch in the den as she flipped on the TV to an educational kids’ show. She went off for her shower and I let Mikey show me his toys.

  ‘A thousand thank-yous,’ she said when she returned. ‘I feel like a new person.’ She did seem transformed. Her hair was still wet, but pulled into a neat ponytail. She wore jeans and a pale yellow sweatshirt with flowers printed on the front. Mikey rushed over to her and held his arms up for her to pick him up. She did and he immediately put his little hands on her shoulder, leaving some kind of imprints. She looked at them and shook her head with a wry smile. ‘It was nice while it lasted.’

  She followed me to the front door. ‘I know Ben is difficult, but believe me, he’s worth the trouble.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I said for the countless time. ‘We’re just friends.’

  She laughed as I went out the door. ‘That friend thing never works out.’

  I zipped up my jacket just as I was leaving the downstairs vestibule. The cold air was invigorating, but I still was looking forward to Zooey’s coffee as I walked down 57th Street. A group of joggers went by as I went into the university’s version of a student union. The Gothic design of the gray stone building had a church-like look to me. The food area was off the main hall and had a different feeling in the morning. The coffee place was the only stand open and the smell of the brew permeated the air. A small crowd was clustered around it and they exhibited a vibe of grogginess and impatience while they waited as their individual cups of coffee took their time dripping into the paper cups. I coul
d certainly relate to the grogginess. It made sense since coffee was a drug. I’d done a bunch of research and found out what I knew first-hand – it stimulated alertness and sped up mental performance. It also was addictive to some people, and if they didn’t get their morning cup, they got a headache instead. No headache for me, but I certainly longed for that promised alertness and faster mental performance.

  I hung back until the group cleared as it got to the time the next session of classes started. She’d just finished handing cups to a few stragglers when she saw me.

  ‘Good, you came. Just let me take care of this.’ I saw now that the scarf on her hair and something colorful over a black turtleneck was her look. She started clearing up the mess the rush of customers had caused. ‘It doesn’t rain, but it pours,’ she said, wiping off the counter. ‘That’s the trouble. They all come at once and then there’s just a trickle.’

  I hid my reaction to the cliché. She wasn’t a student of mine, so there was no reason to bring it up. I had thought over her situation and had come up with what might be the essence of her problem.

  ‘I thought over your situation,’ I began. ‘I think I know what’s at the heart of your problem.’ I paused to check her reaction and it was hard to read. ‘That is if you want my input.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘I want to succeed.’

  ‘You get a lot of business in the morning because it’s convenient rather than because they specifically want what you offer.’

  ‘I get it. I’m just another coffee place.’

  ‘You need to get the word out about what makes your place special.’

  I handed her the description I’d written for her signature drink. She looked it over and nodded. ‘That is perfect. I print up the menu sheets at home. Next time I make some, I’ll add this and of course anything else you have.’ She looked down the counter at the place where she set up the pour-overs. ‘I’ll brew a couple of mugs for you to taste.’ She eyed me. ‘Still waking up, huh?’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ I asked.