Last Night at the Blue Angel: A Novel

by Rebecca Rotert

  Back in the car with David, I was exhausted and hungry. He drove a little ways before pulling over.

  I think we should talk about last night.

  About what specifically? I asked.

  He looked out the window. Well, things are a little complicated right now, with Caroline and all—

  As soon as he opened his mouth, something inside me slammed shut.

  Stop, I said, with force. Consonant-vowel-consonant. Punch the diaphragm. Engage the whole mouth. Don’t. Another good one. I had learned something.

  I just don’t want you to think— he began.

  Have I asked for anything? I said. Did I last night? Am I now?

  Most gals, he began. And I didn’t even have to say a word to stop him. He stopped himself, looked at me for a long time, then began to drive away. A game of kickball was bursting along up the street. The kids cleared slowly to make way for us. We rolled through.

  It was nice, he finally said.

  Was it? I said, trying to keep the door shut.

  We drove the rest of the way home in silence, with just the threads between us—tangled, hot-wired, live.

  The next day I had the apartment all to myself and ate everything I could find—a tin of stale crackers, some hard, greasy salami, toast with cinnamon and sugar. I wrote to Sister, told her about David and Gill, told her everything, however bad, because I hadn’t heard a word from her. It was like writing to the wind, delivering the story of my life to the Kansas wind, where it would be whipped, shredded, and dissipated. I wish you would write me. Are you there? I’m not a virgin any longer. I love David or perhaps I just found a way to matter to him, to be noticed. He has made me feel small and I hate him for that but I also long for him. I’m embarrassed. I’ll be all right. I will find a way. Maybe I’ll turn myself into something he cannot have. I could sure use your help. I don’t know what’s become of you or why I don’t hear word. I’m going to sing soon. Very soon. Here at the club. In public. I miss you.

  The letter made me start to cry, so I took a very long bath and practiced my drills. They sounded better in there. I didn’t cover myself when David walked in and pulled me out of the bath and dried my body with a towel and made love to me against the sink. Or afterward when I sat down on the couch and found a cigarette to smoke. I didn’t cover myself until Caroline walked in. When I reached for the afghan on the back of the couch, she stopped me.

  No, don’t, she said calmly. Not on my account.

  I crossed my arms in front of myself. David approached her, pants on, shirtless. Baby, he began.

  You, too. Don’t you move either. I want to take this in.

  As she lowered her turquoise suitcase to the floor, she stared back and forth at us, thinking. Just want to be absolutely sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing. She kept rubbing her fingers together like something was stuck on them. I am, right?

  David looked at her. What?

  Seeing what I’m seeing?

  Yes, you are, he said.

  I lit my cigarette and stared at the wall.

  Caroline sat next to me and crossed her legs. She looked over my body like it was a bolt of fabric she was considering. I came to tell David that I left Charlie. That it’s over, that I’m all his now. And here we are. I come home to this little surprise.

  Caroline, said David.

  YOU don’t say a word, she shouted as she stood and tugged on the laundry line that she had used to dry the money.

  I know a lot about you, don’t I, Davie, she said, pinching the line. So many memories. You’d probably hate to kick me out what with everything we’ve shared.

  She walked to the window, looked out. I’m not going to let you off the hook, just like that. Or you, she said, pointing at me. I’m also not going to let you out of my sight. Either of you. ESPECIALLY you, she said, bending over me. Look at this. All naked and delicious. You little snake. You’re not a woman. You’re a child. You cannot compete with me.

  I watched David carefully, stared at his love for her, his respect for the speech she gave, for the way she commanded our attention. She knew how to unsettle him, surprise him, and she was right. I could not compete.

  He was the only one who believed your little story, doll. Cast out from the country, penniless, not a friend in the world. I never believed you, not for a second.

  Leave her be, said David.

  Caroline glared at him. Not a chance, she said, putting her hand in my hair.

  I tried to catch my breath, to breathe from my diaphragm.

  The phone started ringing and we all looked at one another. Caroline said, Let’s let that go, but I stood and answered it.

  May I please speak to David, said the voice. Laura’s voice. I turned my back to them and held the receiver tight in my hands, close, like it could be snatched right out the window.

  Laura, I said.

  Who’s this? she said with her singsongy bank voice.

  It’s me.

  I listened to her breathe. I’d memorized her breath without knowing it, a pause at the top of the inhale and then a little push to let the breath out.

  She hung up.

  Laura, I said. Laura.

  CHAPTER 36

  THAT NIGHT CAROLINE paced the apartment waiting for David to come home from the game at the Continental. She wore a red nightie with a lace bodice and a matching robe that she left hanging open. I sat at the little table and made notes in my notebook, adding up how many hours I would need to work in order to make enough money for a security deposit on my own place or a train ticket to someplace else.

  Finally David walked in, his jacket over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up. Elaine followed behind him.

  Well? said Caroline.

  David shook his head, making us believe he lost, but Elaine gave him away by doing a little dance and singing, “We’re in the money! We’re in the money! We got a lot of what it takes to get along!”

  Elaine and Caroline hugged. Davie could get an Academy Award for what he does at these tables, I swear to heaven.

  He can bullshit with the best, that we know, said Caroline, glancing back at me. What do you say we go downstairs for a nightcap?

  Good idea, said David.

  You coming? Elaine said to me.

  She’s all tired out, Caroline said. She needs her rest.

  An hour later Caroline and David came back up, passed me on the davenport, and went into the bedroom. Caroline hummed. I heard her humming get closer and I pretended to be asleep.

  I know you’re awake, she whispered as I lay there still pretending. Come in here.

  Naomi, she said. I opened my eyes. She stood there with her head tilted, her robe hanging open. Come on.

  I don’t remember making a choice, only standing and going with her, David sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Caroline, what are you doing? he said.

  I wrapped the afghan around myself and watched them kiss.

  She pushed him onto the bed, put her hand on his crotch, and looked back at me.

  At the very least you might learn something, she said.

  Then she kissed him, put her full weight on him, slid her hand back to his crotch. She pulled his pants off, felt him, cocked her head. Oh, no, she said, are we spent? David looked at the ceiling.

  But you’re not, she said to me. Are you? You never are. You are hungry all the time, aren’t you? I see how you look at Elaine.

  I hated Caroline then. And I wanted to be in charge of her, to watch all the power run out of her. I knelt on the bed, turned her over on her back, and held her head down so that I could kiss her neck, grab her breast, and she looked at me with a challenge on her face. I pulled at her with my teeth and ran my hair against her skin. She shut her eyes and arched underneath me. I rested my hand inside her thigh and she closed her legs around my arm, squeezed, moved her hips this way, that, but I didn’t move my hand. I didn’t move my hand up to her until she asked. Say please, I ordered, watching her face all the while. Every time she caught m
y eyes, there was an expression on her face that said, I dare you. I didn’t let her body release itself—the flood, the shudder—until that look was gone, until she was completely powerless. Until she didn’t even know I was there, or David, or anything.

  When we were done I stood up and looked at David, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  He pulled me to him but I turned in his arms as we fell on the bed so that my back was to him and I faced Caroline. When she reached up and touched my face, it was like she’d never seen it before. She put her hand in my hair and said, You’re a monster. And then we made love like this with me between them. I loved his whiskers against my bare back.

  It was almost noon the next day when I heard someone come up the stairs. I opened my eye to see Elaine standing there, her hand on the doorknob.

  What in the name of God, she said.

  Aw, come on, Elaine, said Caroline.

  Just when I think I’ve seen it all. She threw a large envelope at me. You bring trouble wherever you go. I knew that from the start.

  Shit, said David. God damn. He got up and yanked his clothes back on so he could go after Elaine.

  Caroline took her time getting dressed. There’s no telling what a day may bring, is there? Around here.

  I turned over on the bed and held the package. Old, shaky handwriting—Naomi Hutnik, c/o David Miller. “Care of” indeed, I said out loud as I tore it open. There were a dozen letters from Sister Idalia. I pulled them out and arranged them by date and read them all. The last one made me shudder.

  I subjected myself to the utmost humiliation yesterday. Mother visited me. I was so certain she intended to let me back into the community but she wouldn’t. She was praying about it still. I begged her to let me out, begged her forgiveness and her mercy. I fell to my knees and grabbed her, clutched at her habit, wept and then screamed, and suffered her silent stare and the swiftness with which she removed herself from me. I do not know what to do. I can’t bear another day. God have mercy on me and the terrible thoughts I now entertain.

  I turned the envelope upside down and shook it. A little note fluttered out. Sister Windy’s writing. No more letters, dear. Sister Idalia is gone.

  I rose to my knees on the bed and read the tiny note over and over. Oh, Jesus, please God. Oh, Jesus. I ran to the phone and called the Mount. A student was working the switchboard and wouldn’t put me through to anyone or answer my questions. The community is not to be disturbed today was all she said, over and over.

  As I was dressing, David returned and asked what was wrong. I tried to explain and asked him to take me there but he shook his head. I’m sure she just ran away, I’m sure she’s fine, he said. There’s no use going there.

  I fell to my knees and cried. He lowered himself and held me. Listen here, doll. She’s gonna contact you, I promise. You just sit tight. I know she will.

  She’s my family, I cried to him. She’s all I have.

  You got me, he said.

  No, I don’t. You know I don’t.

  Look. Tomorrow is Sunday. Let’s just concentrate on our work tonight and tomorrow we’ll drive down there. Get some questions answered. It’s a bunch of women. How hard can it be?

  I hugged him and thanked him.

  It took all the concentration I had to work at the club that night. Caroline flirting with me all the while like I was some man. I finally couldn’t stand it any longer. I’m trying to work, I snapped, which hurt her and caused her to drink way too much.

  By the time it was her turn to sing, she was three sheets to the wind—and Elaine still nowhere in sight.

  It was Saturday night and the place was packed. I was sweating from covering all the tables. David was in his shirtsleeves running drinks, trying to keep an eye on Caroline, maybe wondering just what kind of mess he’d made.

  He approached me. Listen, I need you to sing. I need you to get up there.

  Absolutely not, I told him.

  I beg you, doll. Just go up there and talk to the guys and do what you do. They can play any old song you sing to yourself, anything.

  He walked me to the stage and got me up on it; the guys smiled and the crowd cheered. I stood there sweating, my dress sticking to me. Caroline cocked her head. What you got for us, kid? said the Negro man sitting at the table right down in front of me.

  I swallowed and pointed to the drink in front of him. May I? He handed it to me. I took a big drink and handed it back. Owe you one, I said, and to the band, “Ain’t Nobody’s Business.”

  What the kid wants, said the guy on the bass, who then popped out a line that hopped and danced. I held the mike by the neck, closed my eyes, and pretended I was Elaine, saying, You in a hurry, friend? Let’s take this nice and slow. The crowd clapped slowly and the people said, Mm-hmm or Okay.

  “If I should take a notion.” I sang real slow and gentle. “To jump into the ocean.” Pause. “Ain’t nobody’s business if I do.”

  There was a burst of sound from the crowd—vocal, surprised, intimate—and I felt their reaction in my lungs, between my legs, behind my eyes. It was so deep I could hardly remember what came next. The band watched me, followed me close, moved under me like firefighters with a safety net with me teetering on a ledge.

  “If I go to church on Sunday, then cabaret all day Monday,” I sang. “Ain’t nobody’s business if I do.”

  I was someone else on that small platform, something else entirely. And I knew that I would not be happy until the whole world saw what I could do.

  Late that night, I lay there on the davenport playing the show over and over in my mind and worrying about Idalia. David lay down behind me and held me tight as he fell asleep. It was sweeter than I’d imagined.

  CHAPTER 37

  THE NEXT MORNING I called the Mount again, asked for Sister Idalia, and the young nun on the switchboard blurted, Oh, she’s run off! Then she quickly tried to cover herself but I hung up before she could finish.

  I sat at the little table with my head in my hands, shaking with relief. David woke and stood behind me. She’s fine, I said to him. He pulled me up by the arm and into the bedroom, where Caroline had just woken up. We fell silently into a confusion of limbs, hair, skin, breath. Right there in the light of day. No booze or anger or darkness to hide us.

  We carried on like this for the next two days. My mind was always on one of two things: the bed and the stage. These things left me intoxicated all the time. Until I saw this look on Caroline’s face—the faintest trace of jealousy, hurt—and I knew it was over. The thin membrane that was keeping us even had broken. I didn’t know when or how, so I returned to the davenport.

  Tuesday night the crowd was sparse and without magic. David was at a poker game, and Caroline and I snuck drinks from the bar while a lonely man played songs from the jukebox. We should have closed down but among the dozen people left there was a feeling that this dragged-out, tired night was still a shade better than the life that waited outside.

  Caroline and I danced. I closed my eyes and thought of Laura and me, back in the schoolhouse. A man walked in and I left Caroline so I could tend to him. He was a slight man with his collar turned up and a too-big hat. When I got close he turned to face me and I saw that it was a woman, and then I saw that it was Sister Idalia. We hugged each other so hard, cried and held each other’s face. Look at you, she kept saying. Heavens, look at you. Her hands trembled against my cheeks.

  What are you doing here?

  I’m just passing through. I won’t keep you. I’m visiting a sister, a friend in town. She teaches at Donnelly College.

  I studied her face. So strange and so familiar all at once.

  I’m going to see her in the morning, say good-bye before I leave. Her mouth trembled a little.

  Will you stay here tonight? I asked her.

  Caroline let us have the bedroom. Sister and I lay face-to-face in bed.

  How did you get out? I asked.

  Sister Windy, she said. We planned it for weeks. And then it just went off
without a hitch and I was free, but—it never occurred to me I would have to say good-bye to her. I will never see her again. Or any of my sisters. I didn’t realize how final it would be. All I could think about was getting out. She cried and tried not to cry. I rested my hand on her head and said, I know, I know. Because I did.

  Will you stay with your friend at the school? I asked.

  No, that won’t be possible. The whole community knows by now.

  But where will you go?

  Chicago, she said, a smile appearing. My brother is expecting me. He tells me he will help me start a new life. He has always wanted me to be free. Freedom is more exciting to him than to me, she said.

  I think I would like your brother, I said. I don’t believe a woman should be trapped.

  Sister smiled. I have missed you.

  I’m going with you, I said.

  What?

  I sat up in bed and looked down at her. I’m going with you, I repeated. To Chicago. Would your brother mind?

  Heavens no.

  I need to leave here, I whispered.

  Chicago, then, said Idalia.

  I lay there steering my thoughts from David to Chicago over and over again. Every time my mind leaned toward David—his heat, his desire—I steered it back to Chicago.

  As my head got heavier, it became clear that my problems would all be solved by going to a new place. I would start anew. No one would know me and I would not hold myself back.

  The next morning I stalled, hoping David would turn up before we left. I felt I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye, or maybe without finding out if he would fight for me.

  Sister went to Donnelly College to visit her friend and we made plans to meet at the bus station at noon.

  I packed the few things I had in my bag as Caroline watched.

  You can’t carry that awful old satchel, she said. Let me help you.

  She gave me her turquoise suitcase with silver metal trim, put it on the bed, and popped it open. Then she pulled some dresses and skirts out of her closet and took out the hangers.

  What are you doing? I asked.

  Just a few things to tide you over. I’m tired of them anyway, she said, folding them gently into the suitcase.