‘I planned on telling you tonight or tomorrow. I never dreamed Wanda would write back so fast. I wanted to see it all settled before I made an announcement.’
‘Where?’ Teddy caught her breath. Why did she feel so betrayed? It was just a job.
‘Why?’ asked Ann.
‘One at a time. I start Monday. General welding and flanging, in Richmond. And why? I wanted to do something. Sort of like Wanda getting out of the canteen, I guess. Besides, I felt like such a dope passing the war in a dinky film office when I could be contributing.’
‘You don’t mean to tell me you fell for that propaganda baloney,’ Ann said. ‘Businessmen are going to make millions in this war off the backs of people like you.’ She started at the harshness in her voice. It came from a sour place she recognized as guilt. What was she doing? About Uncle Aaron? About Mama? At least Moira was trying. Moira was always trying. That was the marvellous and aggravating thing about her.
Teddy glanced from one friend to the other, desperate to provide a palliative, but she was overwhelmed by pure, selfish disappointment about Moira’s job. She was beginning to hate things that reminded her of the fighting. War surrounded them now — bloody reports on the radio every night; black-outs; ration talk; billboards and posters supporting the patriotic effort. People said San Francisco was going to boom. A big port on the Pacific, it would make a name for itself, but she felt like they had already been occupied by the American navy. She knew it would get worse; the city would lose its soul. Hank and Arthur had enlisted and Virgil was talking about it. Pop was getting more and more sloshed every night since the army turned him down. Even at the Emporium, WAR was written over everyone’s face. Teddy wondered why she wanted to ignore it when everyone else was patriotic. She knew Angela’s news would be like Moira’s — only worse. Angela had also been aching ‘to contribute’.
‘Well.’ Moira poured herself another coffee. ‘I didn’t expect a champagne ball, but you two could pick your faces off the table.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ Teddy managed. ‘What exactly will you be doing?’
Moira pulled a brochure from the front pocket of her housekeeping smock. ‘See here …’
‘Hello, Mama.’
The small, round woman in the bed was silent. No, not round now. She must have lost 20 pounds in this — hospital? holding cell? prison? Ann thought how the war had washed away definitions and boundaries. Not only the lines of security, but the borders of understanding which were, after all, the real security. Mama was proof of that. Ann lit a cigarette, although — perhaps because — it seemed inappropriate in a hospital.
‘Hello, Mama. It’s me, Anna.’ This was a long distance call. Reality faded in and out.
The woman turned her head on the pillow, reached for Ann’s hand, then inspected it as if searching for counterfeit veins.
Ann stared through the smoke. She wanted from Mama something besides wanting. Would she recognize her daughter today? Would she say anything except ‘Anna’? And what would that mean?
The visit was silent. Three cigarettes. A long look out the window. A cautious search of Mama’s face. A kiss on her forehead. Ann sat back on the chair and waited for time to pass. The hospital was so clean it set her teeth on edge. None of the family had ever been hospitalized and Ann had always imagined harried doctors rushing stretchers down crowded corridors. This place was unnervingly quiet, more like a greenhouse. That was it, Mama was just another vegetable in the greenhouse. Ann leaned forward, staring into Mama’s open eyes.
When the nurse tapped on the screen, Ann was ready to leave. She imagined the intruder as a guard, as a gardener of these vegetables. She inspected the white uniform for traces of leaves and thorns. The nurse sniffed twice, waving away Ann’s smoke. But she didn’t scold Ann, which made her question if the woman actually were a nurse.
Ann walked across the ward and down the long hall ruminating about nurses and daughters and mothers. Her whole life she believed that if she could make things better, Mama would be OK. If she could teach Mama English. If she could translate Mama’s needs to Papa. For a while Ann even wanted to be a doctor, not only to cure Mama of her frequent ailments, but to make enough money to take her back to Germany where she met Papa or maybe to Galicia where she was born. But by high school, Ann’s mind turned from medicine (although Papa was wrong about girls not making good doctors) to saving her own life.
Ann who had always been good at tongues enjoyed the stability of classical languages. The grammar wouldn’t change. The very world they described was contained and safe. Sometimes she fretted that studying Classics was socially useless. How could Mama ever understand? Well, she grew weary thinking about Mama’s needs. How could she get angry at a sick woman? Bad. A woman all alone with no one to understand her except a daughter. The headaches were the only thing that distracted Ann from the guilt. Even Mama noticed when the headaches got bad enough and left her alone. Ann knew she had to leave home. She was not surprised that Mama deteriorated after she left. Bad. Two months in that rooming house and a man broke in. Punishment. She was ready to go back home when Teddy suggested Stockton Street. She jumped at the offer even though she wasn’t much of a group person. It was a selfish decision, Papa told her. Mama needed her home. Until they removed Mama to the hospital.
Slowly, Ann walked to the streetcar. The heat wasn’t anything like Wanda’s stories, but she felt exhausted. Exhausted at six o’clock in the afternoon? On the streetcar home, she pulled out a copy of the Jewish Chronicle that Uncle Manny had sent from London and returned to that article about refugee children: 10,000 kids out of Germany and Austria and they were still placing them in British homes.
Ann could hear the Andrews Sisters singing ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ from the sidewalk. Funny since it was Friday. Usually music night was only on Moira’s shift to cook. It was never this loud. Mrs Minelli would have a fit. Why didn’t Teddy tell her to turn it down?
The music blared as she opened the front door. Ann felt exhausted and the anger burst quickly. ‘Moira, for god’s sake …’
Moira was nowhere in sight.
Teddy came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a striped green dishtowel. ‘Am I glad you’re home!’
Ann stared around, confused. ‘The music. Mr Minelli,’ she began.
‘You prefer opera?’ inquired Moira, rising from her haunches in front of the liquor cabinet, raising a bottle of gin to the counter and leaning fast against the wall. ‘You’d prefer something more cultured?’
‘I’d prefer something quieter,’ she said, irritated by her own paralysis, then walking over and switching off the Andrews Sisters.
‘You’ve never liked Laverne, admit it,’ said Moira, listing toward the couch.
Ann restrained a smile. ‘What,’ she asked slowly, ‘is going on here?’
Teddy shrugged, put her capable hands on Moira’s shoulders and led her to the couch. ‘Randy,’ she whispered.
‘You’ve never liked my taste.’ Moira spoke in a sing-song to Ann. ‘A bit downscale, right?’
Mama, Ann thought, the opposite of Mama. This one talks when she is crazy.
‘Well, then you should be delighted,’ Moira continued, ‘to hear that my callow lad has left me.’
Ann turned to Teddy for a translation. Had Randy enlisted?
‘Sit.’ Teddy now had her hands on Ann’s shoulders. ‘Randy apparently doesn’t want a shipyard worker for a girlfriend. Moira disobeyed so he’s left.’ Teddy hoped she sounded sympathetic.
Ann sighed and regarded Moira hunched on the couch.
‘It’s not only that,’ Moira sobbed. ‘There have been so many pressures lately — deciding if he should give up his Kaiser job and join the service. We’ve been bickering every day. It’s not his fault. I don’t know.’
‘Let me have that bottle,’ Ann said abruptly.
‘Thank God you’re ho
me.’ Teddy rested against the wall. ‘I’ve been trying to get her to stop all evening.’
‘Who mentioned stopping?’ asked Ann. ‘I’m starting.’
Moira giggled.
‘It’s been one of those days.’ Ann walked over to the sideboard for a glass and toasted Moira. ‘Listen, there’s no other way out.’
‘You two!’ Teddy shook her head. ‘If there’s one thing I should have learned from Mom trying to stop Pop drinking all my life, it’s that you can’t step between a person and the bottle. Supper’s gonna be served in 20 minutes, that is if you two souses are still awake.’
‘What’s got into her?’ asked Moira, reaching over for a handful of the nuts Teddy had set out.
‘Got me,’ Ann said. She moved to the couch. A hand on her friend’s arm, she said, ‘Hey, tell me the story.’
‘Not much to say.’ Moira sipped the gin. She was relieved to be talking with Ann because as much as Teddy worried about her, she knew she didn’t care for Randy. She missed Wanda today. She could always talk boyfriends with Wanda. Still, Ann was concerned. ‘It’s been hard for a couple of months now.’ Moira took a long breath. ‘You know what Daniel went through deciding on the service. Randy can’t decide about whether to give up his work deferment and, well, choices come twice as hard for Randy as for anyone else.’
‘You think he’s mad at you for making a big decision before he knows his plans.’
‘Doesn’t make sense, but I guess so.’
‘He’ll recover.’ Ann was distracted.
‘I don’t know.’ Moira shook her head numbly. ‘So strange, losing Randy means not just losing my past, but also losing my future. We didn’t have plans exactly, but hopes …’
‘Yes.’ Ann took her hand. She could feel the difference from Mama’s hand. Moira’s was firmer, more present.
Moira wondered how Ann could say yes. What did she know about it? How could either she or Teddy understand? Sometimes both friends reminded Moira of the strong, determined nuns who taught her. Moira had learned a lot from the sisters: passion and dedication and even an appreciation for her own talents. But she had never been able to develop that autonomy. ‘Be independent of all except God,’ Sister Lawrence had written in her high school yearbook. How did you do that?
‘Hello,’ called Teddy. ‘Supper’s ready. Anyone mobile in there?’
Teddy tried several topics of conversation — Moira’s job, Ann’s mother, the sweltering weather. Finally Ann lifted a thread of energy.
‘I called the registrar at college today.’
Moira regarded her blankly, decided she was too drunk to concentrate and furtively ate two slices of bread for ballast.
‘Yes?’ Teddy asked eagerly.
‘I’d be eligible to enroll in the fall, but I’d have to do it soon.’
‘So what’s stopping you?’
‘How could I balance hours with work? Maybe I should just continue auditing classes.’
Teddy drew her brows together. ‘You’re stalling, aren’t you?’
Ann shrugged. ‘Well, sometimes it does seem like a frivolous pursuit.’
‘Frivolous, shmivolous,’ laughed Teddy.
‘Yah,’ agreed Moira. ‘I could coach you from what I learned at Mass. Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi …’
‘Have some more communion bread, honey.’ Teddy passed the plate. ‘Ann, I’m glad you’ve started to look into this.’
‘What about Wanda’s supply box?’ Ann switched the topic.
‘All set,’ said Moira. ‘I finally got those Milky Way bars for her sister. Teddy’s going to take it down to them tomorrow.’
Teddy checked her watch. ‘No time for coffee,’ she said, ‘Angela will be here any minute.’
‘What movie?’ asked Moira, trying for once to be conciliatory about Angela.
‘Don’t remember.’ Teddy felt a little dizzy and stupid. ‘I’m late. Gotta run.’
They walked past the Palace Theatre without acknowledging it. ‘Lots to talk about,’ as Angela had said last Saturday over the fence. They could go to a movie any time. Knots of people gathered on the sidewalks to cool off. Angela nodded to some men gathered in a circle. The Italian men were always out on summer nights like this, talking or playing bocci in the park. Teddy thought it was a nice custom. They worked hard all day and now they were as relaxed as if they were back in Calabria or Abruzzi. The women stayed home, cleaning after the evening meal and putting the kids to bed. They also worked long hours in the garment houses or, like Mrs Bertoli, in the shops. The only times they seemed to meet were over work, at church, in the laundry or on the bus. Moira complained they talked too loudly on the bus, but Teddy thought you noticed their voices because the language was different. And maybe sometimes they were a little over-excited about seeing each other.
Angela seemed twitchy tonight. She always walked fast, but now she was striding ahead. She almost knocked into Mr and Mrs Minelli as they strolled around the corner.
‘Evening girls,’ said Mr Minelli. He was a short, slight, bald man and he looked up at Teddy and Angela skeptically, as if nature had played mischief giving them such height.
‘Evening folks,’ Teddy smiled.
Angela nodded.
‘A musicale this afternoon?’ Mrs Minelli rubbed her thin hands.
‘Oh, yes, sorry about that.’ Teddy lowered her head. ‘Guess we got a little carried away with the victrola.’
‘Don’t mind “Sonny Boy” and “Ich Ein Bein”, but when they start in with those polkas my blood pressure skips a few notches,’ laughed Mr Minelli.
Teddy grinned bashfully, then noticing Mrs Minelli’s tight jaw, she said, ‘It won’t happen again. I assure you.’
‘Very well, very well,’ he waved them on.
‘What’s that all about?’ asked Angela. ‘You bailing out Moira again?’
Teddy related the afternoon drama.
‘War seems so easy to understand in one way,’ said Angela, as if she were responding to Moira’s predicament. ‘I mean Japan attacks us and we fight back.’
‘Ann says Roosevelt probably knew Pearl Harbor was coming and did nothing to stop it.’
‘Yeah, let me finish. Anyway, it seems like a thing between countries, where people follow their leaders regardless. Honor. Patriotism. Self-defense. Whatever. Yet in another way, it has nothing to do with those big notions. It’s all about people changing and leaving and …’
‘But Moira isn’t going anywhere. Randy is just being a jerk.’
Angela stopped with her arms across her large bosom and waited for Teddy to return to the point. Teddy finally admitting the hopelessness of her diversion said, ‘OK, Angela, what’s your news?’
‘That’s it.’ Angela rested her arm over Teddy’s shoulder and Teddy felt a flush from the bottom of her stomach. Angela cleared her throat, steered her off the sidewalk and across the street.
‘The WAFs.’
‘The WACs?’ Teddy continued because she had half-expected this all week. ‘You mean you’re going off “to support our boys in uniform, to be a right hand to the men who bring home victory”?’
‘I see you have some ideas about the subject even if they’re not exactly on target. Not the WACs, the WAF, the Women’s Auxiliary Flying Corps.
‘Just in the States — taking supplies back and forth. Of course, who knows if we’ll be able to go abroad. I figure it’s only a question of time.’
Teddy shook her head and was suddenly furious. ‘You’re excited about this, aren’t you?’
‘Why not?’ Angela walked straighter and faster. ‘What’s wrong with it, taking advantage of a change to learn something interesting, to do something useful?’
‘I hate this war. Maybe the Germans and the Japanese started it, but the Americans are joining with gusto. It’s such a waste. Not just the deaths.’
Teddy realized she was blabbering, but so what, this needed to be said, some of it. ‘Like you say, all the friendships torn apart, for what?’
‘Hey, hang on lady. I didn’t start the war. I’m just going to lug some cargo around in a tin box.’
‘Just don’t talk about it like such a great adventure.’
‘I don’t know about adventure.’ Angela stopped and gazed at her directly. ‘I think it’s going to be pretty lonely.’
Teddy saw Angela’s eyes were wet. She preferred being angry to this weak sensation in her stomach. ‘Chocolate,’ she said and she hoped not too abruptly, but then the craving for chocolate took a person by surprise. ‘Let’s go find a chocolate sundae.’
August 1942.
Ann listened to Moira as her friend packed Wanda’s supply box. She sat by the open door, to let out the smoke. They had a truce: Ann would blow her smoke outside if Moira would refrain from cracking gum. Occasionally Ann wondered if they had cultivated these habits to underscore their differences or just to nettle each other. Moira was such a fanatic about health — exercise, diet, sleep — still, it fitted into the general narcissism of acting. But how could you worry about a little tobacco when the world was full of speeding cars and fires and guns and tanks? Why was she, herself, in turn, so critical of Moira’s gum chewing? She was just as silly.
‘I hope the canned peaches are OK,’ Moira said. ‘I couldn’t get Del Monte like Mrs Nakatani wanted. What do you think, Ann?’
Ann stood and walked to the window over the sink, wondering if she should open it or whether that would just admit more heat.
Sometimes Moira felt intimidated by Ann’s silence. She imagined getting lost in the dark, cavernous spaces. She enjoyed Ann’s mind when she wasn’t worrying about their differences. She admired her friend’s certitude. She liked to ask questions about politics and history because 90 percent of the time Ann had answers. Yet she had a tendency to brood, to hold on to the cold side of an experience. Sometimes Moira just wanted to cradle Ann and say, ‘It’s OK. You’re fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
All Good Women Page 13
