by Triss Stein
“But about Philo…I mean, my…my boyfriend. What did you hear?”
“They didn’t like him. Didn’t want you to marry him. Were you going to?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You should have! At least I liked him.”
“And did you hear more? Why didn’t they like him?”
“You know. Not Italian, not Catholic. Not one of us. And especially his politics.”
Phyllis, upset, broke in. “Georgie, do you know what happened to him?”
“That’s what I’m saying! Aren’t you listening?” He went back to addressing Chris. “They beat him up good one night. “
“And? And?”
He looked at her with surprise. “What? They talked about it late that night and I was listening through the door. Frankie at least felt bad.” His voice faded. “I never knew until then that men could cry.” His own cheeks were wet with tears.
Chris was on the point of tears herself. Phyllis looked stunned. She could not even say anything.
The effort of so much talking seemed to have worn George out. He sat back in his chair, head sinking down into his shoulders. His son stepped up and put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Are you tired? Do you want to go back to your room and lie down?”
The old man’s head snapped up and his eyes opened. “Hell, no! I want my ice cream. You roll me over to the cafeteria, and this pretty young lady can come too.” He was smiling up at Phyllis now, not at Chris or me. “And what’s your name, dear?”
Chapter Twenty-two
Only my dad knew what to say. “May I wheel you in, Mr. Palma? It would be an honor, one vet to another.”
George Palma scrutinized him. “How’d you know I served? Marines, Korea. Semper fi.”
“This is a veterans’ hospital, after all.”
“Of course it is. See that fella over there? He was in Korea too. We talk about the old days. Bad times, to be honest, but then, we were young, so good times in some ways. I volunteered, dumb cluck I was. But all my brothers were in the big one so I felt like I had to keep up. How about yourself?”
“Vietnam. I would have been drafted, so I signed up for Naval Reserve. You know how they used to say, ‘Join the Navy and see the world’? I spent my two years down the road at the Brooklyn Navy Yard!”
The two men laughed, but I wasn’t laughing. I was too surprised. He never told me any of this.
We left George in his family’s care, saying fond good-byes to a man who had no idea who we were. It was a tense, silent car journey for a while. I finally broke the tension.
“Dad, you never told me you were stationed at the Navy Yard!”
“It was when they were in the process of shutting down. I don’t even remember much. Plus I was a young knucklehead back then and you never asked. So I didn’t have much to say and you were never curious about it.”
I changed the subject.
“Chris, how did it feel to be someone else for while?”
“Omigod. It was so strange. I mean, could it be true? What he seemed to be saying? That something really bad happened?”
“I could try to find out but I’m not hopeful at all.”
We all went silent again until Phyllis said, “Not one word could be true. He’s lost somewhere, poor Georgie, wandering around in the past now.”
“Got nice kids.” Dad, sweet-talking again.
“That’s my family.” She stated it with authority. “The finest people. We would never, never, neglect our old folks. Other families maybe, but not mine!”
Today suggested they weren’t quite as perfect as she claimed. My desire to stipulate the facts fought a brief battle with the knowledge that it was not worth the energy to start a fight. This visit was too important to Chris.
“I’m sure you’ll tell some great stories at the class visit.”
“You bet I will. Chrissie and I are going to rehearse tonight. You promised me no surprise questions, right, hon?”
There was heavy traffic and during the tedious drive home, I drifted off into sleep for a little while, dreaming of Jeff when we were young. When we were young was all we ever had. He was trying to tell me something. About his mother? No. Something else. Young love? Reminding me.
I lost it as soon as Dad wrestled his car into a tight parking space on my block and I opened my eyes.
At home, Chris assured all of us, including my dad, that she would provide supper.
“You will?”
“I know how to make a phone call, just like you do.” She stood up to my skepticism with comical dignity.
The ordered spaghetti and meatballs were there at the door in no time. Phyllis was critical of the sauce, but I noticed that she went back for seconds.
Dad cleaned up after dinner. He did it badly but I appreciated it, and then he left. Chris’ reactions to our visit finally came pouring out.
“It was so sad. So sad. She obviously loved him. It’s right there in her diary, the real thing. And those brothers? They just…they just…tried to break it up, like she had nothing to say about it.”
“Honey, they thought they had good reasons.” Phyllis spoke tentatively, not at all her usual style. “She was young and she would get over it. They thought…”
“No, Grandma! It wasn’t fair! Even young people have feelings and she wasn’t so young anyway. She was working and all. My mom and dad were young, too, but they knew what they wanted. How could her brothers take over like that?” Her eyes never left her grandmother’s and I held my breath, waiting to see what Phyllis would say next. I had not forgotten all she said when Jeff and I wanted to get married.
“They were good men, Chrissie, they were, my father and his brothers. They must have truly thought it was the right thing to do, protecting the family from trouble and threats, keeping their jobs. Without jobs, how do you feed your children and keep a roof over their heads? Pay a doctor? I’m sure they meant well. Sure of that.”
She sounded tentative, though, without her usual certainty. And as her voice dropped, Chris’ rose.
“And you said she seemed sad the rest of her life. You said that! It was cruel. They could have been happy.”
“You’re only a girl, you don’t understand.”
I could have told Phyllis those were fighting words.
“I’m not a little girl and I do so understand.” She punctuated the words with a dramatic stalking out of the room.
Phyllis looked shaken. “I was only trying to show her how it would have seemed to them. Was I wrong?”
Words I had never expected to hear in her voice. I was tempted to tell her that, but she stood up. “She is more important than those old fights. What do I know? I was just a child then.”
She walked upstairs and soon I heard teary sounds in Chris’ voice and firm ones in Phyllis’. Then there was some shaky laughter from Chris and steady voices, back and forth. Phyllis had accomplished her mission and I went to do some work of my own.
In the morning, they seemed to be the best of friends. Chris waved a handful of index cards. “Here they are, Grandma. All the questions we practiced. Ready?”
“Not before some breakfast, young ladies.” They both giggled at me laying down the law. I poured juice for Chris, and coffee for Phyllis, and set out both kinds of cereal, milk, craisins, and banana.
“The breakfast buffet for this morning.” They giggled again and ate a few bites. “And how is Grandma getting back after your class?”
“Didn’t I say? She is spending the whole day with me!” She quickly added, “The teachers said it was okay. Even in chem.”
“Phyllis, you think you’ll enjoy chemistry class? I don’t think Chris does.”
“But we have lab today. Grandma said she’ll pass us equipment. Right, Grandma?”
“Anything with my youngest granddaughter is a treat
for me. Anything at all.”
Chris added, as they walked out the door, “And maybe we’ll get to blow something up in lab today. You’d like that, right, Grandma?”
“You betcha!” They giggled again, and again, I was baffled. How had they formed this cozy relationship? Did it matter that it did not include me?
I glanced at the clock and swore. My musing was going to make me late for work. Out the door and caught a downtown bus as it was pulling away from the stop.
I had routine work to do, and a lot of it, so my quiet morning was a welcome respite. A question still roamed around the back of my mind, though. Could I reach all the way back, sixty years or more, and find any records at all for a young man with no family who disappeared one night? I would have a chat with the museum archivist, but, I thought, Not bloody likely. I’d have to reconcile myself, and Phyllis and Chris, to the idea that this was the end of Philomena’s love story. Not looking forward to that conversation. Chris tended not to accept that there were no answers to some questions.
My thoughts seemed to have magically conjured up Chris and Phyllis, who were standing at my office door. It was already after school and my day had disappeared. I’d even skipped lunch.
“How was it?”
“Mom, it was great. Grandma is a star! She had such good stories about the old days.”
“What do you mean, old days?”
“You know what I mean.” Chris giggled. “And honest, Mom, everyone forgot she was old. In fact, they liked her stories so much, they invited her to come back tomorrow and visit the other history class. Cool, right?”
“But, aren’t you going home tomorrow? You have a ticket for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Chrissie will take care of it. She is going to call the airline for me.”
“What, call? Grandma, I can do it online.”
“Chris! You have never made plane reservations in your whole life. What makes you think…?”
“Mom, I can do anything online that I need to. Anything. Don’t worry. We will fix it and she can stay an extra day. So we’re good, right?”
No, we weren’t good. I didn’t trust her to wrangle with an airline and I didn’t want Phyllis to stay another day, either. She was a distraction for me.
Before I could even collect my thoughts, Chris was kissing me good-bye. “Gotta run. Come on, Grandma, we can go home and do another rehearsal.” She took her arm. “Don’t want to embarrass me tomorrow, do you?”
Phyllis looked indignant, saw Chris was joking and patted her hand. “Let’s stop for a treat. On me!”
As they were walking away I remembered something. “Call Grandpa and tell him Phyllis doesn’t need a ride to the airport tomorrow.”
Without even turning around, Chris wiggled her hand above her head and called back, “Already done. One step ahead.”
I put my head on my desk and contemplated a brownie from the nearby bakery. Or an overpriced latte. Or a glass of wine. Smart aleck daughter plus another day of Phyllis was more than I could stand right now.
I don’t think I nodded off but my mind seemed to swirl with young lovers. Philomena and her beloved. Jeff was there, too. I couldn’t hear his voice but I felt, somehow, what he was trying to say. It felt like good-bye.
Chapter Twenty-three
I sat up, determined to apply my mind to my work, but I only stared and stared at my computer screen. Almost seeing Jeff’s face.
I typed. I shuffled files around. And I thought some more because there was a voice—it sounded strangely like Chris—telling me it was not Jeff on my mind today. Or Ramos. I found myself saying, out loud, “Shut up, Chris,” and then saw it was finally the end of the day. I was so glad to be heading home, even if Chris and Phyllis would be there, but someone had decided this day would never end.
As I was walked down the hall, I met Jennifer walking toward me. Her smile was warm. “I’m so glad I caught you.” I was not glad. I suppose it showed in my face.
“And you were leaving to go home? I am sorry. Sometimes I forget about office hours. It’s been so many years. Do you have a few minutes?”
Reluctantly, in fact resentfully, I led her to my cubicle.
“How did you even get upstairs? Security never called me.”
She looked amused. “I may not be a young cookie anymore but I can still charm a man in uniform.”
“It’s a skill worth having, I imagine.”
“You bet. At least, when it comes to speeding tickets.” She made a little face. “It has not worked on that Lieutenant Ramos and the other detectives.”
“I told him the person I saw definitely was not you.”
“Aha. I thought he might come back to you. I came to talk to you about what you’d tell him.”
Now it was my turn to be amused. “You do realize that is a crime? Suborning a witness, I think.”
“Don’t be so harsh. It’s nothing of the kind. We are friends. You know the killer wasn’t me, and that’s what you’ve been saying. So we’re both fine and behaving appropriately.”
“Fine? Are you?” That was impressive, I had to admit, a woman who was out on bail for murder and said she was fine.
“My very peculiar legal situation? It is unpleasant, but I know they cannot make the charges against me hold up because I know I didn’t do it. That’s that. Not that he didn’t have it coming.”
She laughed at my face. “I don’t say that to everyone, of course.” Under the chair, one of her stylishly shod feet was persistently tapping. Perhaps she wasn’t as fine as she claimed to be.
“I don’t understand why they arrested you at all.”
“Are you asking about possible motive? Well, the gossip is true.” She made a face. “He was getting ready to leave me. I overheard a conversation about him auditioning the next Mrs. Conti. It was even someone I’ve met. Was I hurt? No. But I was, I am, angry. Sure. Enough to tie him up in court for the rest of his life, short though it turned out to be.” She smiled slyly. “I would have liked to have dragged him through the legal system for a lot longer. But put myself in jeopardy over it? No way. The only thing is…” She stopped and seemed to consider what to say next. She considered it a long time. “The only thing is, I was in fact at a bar across the street. They got that right.”
What I already knew. She was confirming it.
“No! I’ve seen that place.” Would she tell me more? “What were you doing in a sleazy hangout like that?”
“Not up to something, as they think.” The foot was tapping faster. “I followed him.” For the first time ever, I saw Jennifer look less than self-confident. “Ooh, don’t look at me like that. It’s embarrassing but it’s not as crazy as it sounds. I thought he was lying about where he was going that night. And then he wasn’t, but I wanted to see where he went after the meeting. And who with. If I could catch him in the act, so to speak. I know. I know! It was a dumb idea. I was so angry, I didn’t think it through.”
I kept quiet and it took a lot of effort.
“Here’s the important point.” She started to sound confident again. “They cannot ever tie me to that Mary Pat’s murder. I knew nothing about her. Not a thing. And that, my dear, is the truth. I can’t tell them what I don’t know, no matter how many times they ask the question.” She shook her head. “Did you know they do that? They ask and ask. A woman could be so exhausted by it she’d say anything.”
“And maybe even tell the truth?”
She sat up straight. “I have told them the truth. I think it’s as likely someone would make up something to get them to stop, but I did not. I didn’t know about Mary Pat. Not a thing. And that, my dear, is the whole truth. Now Annabelle did know about her, and never told me. I’ve had words with her about that! But she thought it ended long ago so there was nothing to tell. She says. Maybe it’s the truth. Maybe not.”
“I thought you and An
nabelle were friends.”
“We are, in a strange way. That daughter hates me, though. That never changed, even when her own mother and I stopped being enemies.” The tapping started again. “To think she will get half his money! And Annabelle would always protect her before me, I’m sure.”
“Annabelle seems very worried about you.”
“How like Annabelle. Sweet little thing. So, dear, if you would keep telling them you didn’t see me? Because you didn’t! That would be so helpful. And I’ll let you go now. I apologize for keeping you here when you were ready to leave.”
She shrugged herself into her fur coat and was down the hall before I could get over my bafflement. It wasn’t clear to me why she had gone to the trouble of this visit. It was not social. To remind me to tell the truth? To make sure my truth was her truth? Perhaps to find out exactly what I was telling the cops? To exert influence, if needed?
I thought about it all the way to the subway station, but then my mind refused to take in anything more challenging than holding my place in the crowded rush-hour car. And all the way home from our subway stop, I thought about dinner, a glass of wine, a night glued to undemanding television. If only I could think of a way to make Phyllis and Chris disappear.
They disappeared themselves. There was a note saying they had gone to the local Chinese restaurant and would bring me dinner. My little house was all mine again. Quiet. No demands, at least for a little while. I scooped up the mail from the foyer floor where it had come through the slot. I dropped my coat on the floor instead of hanging it up; I sprawled on the sofa, and tried to process my day.
When my mind stubbornly refused to process anything, I decided to postpone that effort and do something concrete instead. Clean? File? Aha, finish unpacking Philomena’s trunk. The bottom layer was old clothes. We were so absorbed by her diary and photos that we had not looked through them yet. Then I could shake out the trunk, sponge off the dust and return it to Phyllis. An attractively mundane, doable project.
There was a mechanic’s coverall on top, neatly washed, pressed, folded away. Philomena’s name was stitched above the breast pocket. There was an angora sweater, packed in a bag with mothballs. What had it meant to her, I wondered? A dashing hat with a feather and a tiny veil stuffed with tissue paper and wrapped in a clean cloth. The label said Lily Daché. I had to stop then and pull myself together, because I knew what I held.
