Last Night at the Blue Angel: A Novel

by Rebecca Rotert

  You’ll sing, of course. In front of a real crowd. You can’t understand now but trust me, it’s just the ticket.

  I left her to her makeup and her ridiculous plan, and went out to the bar. Jim stood when he saw me and kissed my cheek. He stirred me, that attention, and his eyes made me feel more substantial than I’d ever felt.

  I sat down with him. I cannot be your girl, I told him. Last week. Well, it was lovely. It truly was. But suddenly my life is more difficult than it was then and I don’t want you to see this. Or expect you to stick around.

  I don’t got a say in this?

  You just. You don’t know me. At that, I stood to leave.

  Maybe you need a friend, he said, standing with me. I don’t have any ideas about what this is. What we are.

  We’ll see, I said, then left him quickly so he wouldn’t see how this bit of kindness brought tears to my eyes.

  CHAPTER 45

  THE NEXT DAY I gathered all my dresses and costumes to take them to Hilda’s apartment so she could let them out.

  There was someone at the bottom of the stairs but I didn’t really try to see who it was as I went down because my arms were full and my body ached.

  You running away again? the man said.

  I peered around the pile of dresses and saw that it was David. He touched his hat as he nodded at me. Some of the dresses started to slip. He helped.

  What are you doing here? I said.

  What, you act like I’m some kind of criminal. You left me, remember?

  I looked up at him, let my eyes settle on his features for a moment . . .

  He tried to hug me, to kiss me on the cheek, but it was all made awkward by the load in my arms. I stared at his face. It had only been months. How easy it would be to fall into him, his sad eyes, his reach, I had missed the way he wrapped himself around me.

  He took the clothes from my arms and looked me up and down, shaking his head. My, he said. You look . . . you look like a woman.

  What else would I look like? I asked.

  I want you back, Naomi. I’m here to bring you home, where you belong. We let things get complicated, he said.

  I have that effect, it seems, I said, and began walking toward the train.

  Listen, he said, following me. I’ll let you feature at the club and I’ll pay you right. I’ll even let you work other places, see what happens.

  This is my home now. I have work, I told him.

  Singing in some underground joint with a bunch of queers? he said, laughing.

  I stopped and looked at him. The blue striped suit, the shadow of whiskers, the dark eyes, a pile of glitter and sequins, tulle, and lace so easily held by his long arms.

  None of whom have tried to have sex with me once, I said.

  This city will turn you hard, he said. You don’t know.

  The threads between us were tight as ever, and I started to feel myself slipping into him, toward him. As he talked I nearly told him I was pregnant, but something stopped me.

  We climbed the platform to board the El and I took my dresses back.

  Come on, doll, give us a chance. Come back with me.

  No, David. All of me was shaking. I just wanted him to wrap himself around me and hold me together. No.

  The train came then. He took my arm. We’re not going to get this again, he said. What we have. There’s no man going to love you like I do.

  Let me go.

  He let go of me.

  I don’t love you. I never did. Believe me. I rushed on to the train and found a seat, watched him through the window, smiled and waved like I was fine. I waited to cry until we were moving. I cried long enough to miss my stop, the other passengers moving away from me, nobody sitting anywhere near me, my crying, my dresses hanging from my arms like lifeless bodies.

  I cried to Hilda, let myself be overcome with feeling, and in the midst of it all I lied. I said I told David about the baby and that he left me. It seemed the only way, this lie. How could I tell her the truth? That if he had to, David could do the right thing. Marry me. Take care of us. How could I tell Hilda, or anyone, how much I feared such a life, a normal life? How much I feared becoming invisible again, powerless, dependent. I wanted to do the right thing but I wanted something else more. To be known. To be loved. How much easier to say, A terrible, no good fella, tears and all, and be done with it.

  She stroked my hair and shook her head, saying, Men like him, and I felt lighter on the way home, without the dresses.

  When I got back Rita and Sister were home and they threw their arms around me before I was all the way in. Rita touched her hand to her chest and looked at the floor, saying, Oh, thank God you’re all right.

  We thought you’d run away, said Sister. Where did all your clothes go?

  Some man came by the club today asking if you were there. He was very aggressive. I refused to tell him where you were but one of the girls caved and spilled the beans. Stupid queen. Who was he? Rita said, overwhelmed. And then I come home to find you gone?

  Where have you been all day? said Sister.

  I’m having the dresses let out.

  Rita glanced at Sister. She’s still filling out. Completely normal.

  I’m pregnant, I said.

  They looked at me.

  Rita sat. Sister covered her mouth.

  David found me. I don’t know how but he did. I told him about my condition and he doesn’t want anything to do with it. I was still startled by how easy it was to say this lie, this big lie.

  That bastard, said Rita.

  It’s okay. All he does is confuse me. I stood up and looked down on them, sitting side by side on the davenport. I have plans for myself, clear plans. I’m a singer. Who needs him? I have you. You love me.

  We do, said Rita.

  Idalia nodded and patted the cushion beside her and I sat. We’re going to be fine.

  Rita rested her hand on my thigh. I know someone, she said.

  Someone what?

  Who can take care of this. Make it go away, she said gently.

  Is that safe? I asked.

  Let’s all just slow down, said Sister.

  I don’t know, said Rita. I think so.

  We’re going to be all right, said Sister, stressing the word we, like she wanted me to erase the word I from my head. I scowled at her, got up, and walked around the apartment. It felt terribly small.

  Rita said, We have bigger concerns right now.

  What on earth could be bigger than this? asked Sister.

  We just need to get you through the party, said Rita.

  I could not talk about the party. I couldn’t talk or think or even stand for another minute. Thank you both, I said, and went to bed without eating or taking off my clothes.

  CHAPTER 46

  THE DAY BEFORE Carl’s party Rita took a dress bag from the back of her closet and pulled out a black satin gown, full length, sleeveless, with a matching stole.

  I touched it.

  I bought it with the intention of modifying it, she said, some sort of strap or sleeve, but I never got around to it. She held it up in front of me. God, I hope it fits you.

  It did. We practiced walking in the gown. She frowned and thought with her finger on her mouth. In this dress you have to walk as though your legs are separate from the rest of you, and take close, gentle steps. Quick. She put an empty cup on her head and walked around the room. You don’t walk, darling. You glide. I walked with the cup until I got it.

  Then we practiced sitting.

  I don’t know if I can do this, I said.

  And another thing, she said. I‘ve been thinking about your name.

  What about it?

  It’s horrible, kitten. Hutnik, she spat.

  It’s Polish.

  I realize, she growled. We’re going to call you Hill from now on. I’ve given it much thought. Naomi Hill. Easy, memorable.

  I sat there with the big gown billowed around me like a cushion between the world and me and felt tired. Sister wat
ched from her desk as Rita lowered herself behind me and put her dry hand on my bare back. Darling, she said gently, we don’t get to live two lives at once. We must choose between who we were and who we would like to be. I know this better than anyone. You can believe me.

  The next day Rita transformed me. She put me on a stool by the kitchen sink and saturated my hair with a dark brown solution and let it sit there for a long time. When she finally washed it out, my light red hair had turned to a deep, dark crimson, like cherrywood. After it dried, she mixed another terrible-smelling solution in a bowl and combed it through my hair. I asked her what it was.

  Nothing you’ll find in a white neighborhood, I’ll tell you that, she said. A queen worth her salt will go to any lengths for beauty, mark my words.

  When she rinsed it out, my frizzy curls were nearly gone. My hair was straight, like Laura, like pretty girls. She wound it up tightly in several big rollers. Then she took a damp sponge covered in foundation and patted it over my skin until my freckles were invisible. I kept staring at myself, not believing it was I. But there was another me underneath, safe, hidden. This made me happy. Rita teased, sprayed, and pinned my hair. It was elegant. I was elegant. Naomi Hutnik was gone.

  Idalia cried when she saw me.

  I’m sorry, she said, but you somehow look entirely yourself and not yourself at all. I don’t know what to make of it.

  When she was done with me, Rita went back into her room and closed the door. She was in there for a long time. Idalia and I stood in the living room. I was afraid to sit.

  I’m nervous for you.

  It’s just a party, I told her.

  Not just the party.

  Then I was mad at her for making me remember. I thought of what Rita said. I know someone.

  I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to walk in there alone.

  Rita cracked the bedroom door an inch and said, in the rapid-fire voice of a freak-show announcer, Ladies and ladies! What you are about to behold is a never-before-seen sight for the senses, never to be repeated, so feast your eyes for this ONCE-in-a-lifetime experience.

  She pushed the door open with a black cane and Rita was, for the moment, erased. This was Richard. Black tuxedo with tails, the slightest bit of sheen from use on it, top hat, beautiful shoes. He stood with his legs slightly apart and his hands resting on the top of his cane, and said, in a deep voice, Where’s my gal?

  On the taxi ride to the party, Rita gave me more instructions. She took a deep breath when she was done. Above all else, never lose sight of the vision of your self. Not who you are, but who you are becoming. She smoothed down a stray hair with a light hand and I felt myself blush. Rita, the man, made me dizzy.

  It was a beautiful party full of beautiful people. Rita whispered to me, They need to be taken away. Take them away, Naomi.

  When the pianist asked me to sing, I acted shy at first, but then I pushed my whole body and heart into the notes. I sang like it was my home, all that beauty, and they were my people. Take them away, Naomi. On their faces was love and longing and want. Something started to burn in me right then, a very particular hunger. For this, to be here at the hot center of all these people, holding them with my voice. I’d never sung better in my life. I felt like I’d been standing at the edge of my old life all this time and all I had to do to find myself—my voice, the power in me—was to jump. So I jumped. Even Rita was taken aback. It has begun, she said when we left.

  We walked all the way home, faster and faster as Rita outlined her plans for me. She never once mentioned my condition, like it was a problem that had left on its own. We walked as fast as my shoes would allow, and as the cold wind numbed our faces, I felt myself divide into two. One of me was going to become a singer, to be famous, known, loved, at all costs. The other me was not going to get rid of you, planned to have you, love you, be loved by you, and it was as though these two sides stood back to back, not knowing the other existed at all.

  Could you feel how much they loved you? said Rita. Do you see how loved you will be? I nodded and smiled.

  I see, I told her.

  The next day a man called Rita, wanting me to sing that Thursday at his little bar, a restaurant lounge in downtown Chicago. I opened for an opening act, which amounted to four songs.

  Under the lights, in the gaze of the little crowd, I felt I was exactly where I was meant to be and everything that led to that point suddenly became right, each moment the correct variable in a long equation. I felt large on the stage, by myself, too large to be hurt, and I suspected that if I were ever going to have any certainty in my life, it would be located there, on the stage.

  Rita and Sister were there. Jim was there. The manager paid me by letting us eat for free. Jim reached over the table, took my pickle, and ate it. I said to him, I’m going to have a baby.

  The women looked at me.

  What do you know? said Jim, looking at his plate.

  I’m going to need help, I said.

  All right, said Jim.

  What do you hope to gain by this? asked Rita.

  The others looked at her like this was an ugly question. But I thought about it honestly.

  I believe it will make me a better person.

  As we left the club, the women walked ahead and Jim walked beside me. He looked puzzled.

  What is it, Jim?

  I have to ask. Is it mine? Is the baby mine?

  We stopped walking and looked at each other. I wish it was, I said.

  He breathed and nodded. Come on, then, he said, walking. You’ve had a long night.

  In the Chicago Sun-Times the next day was a little sentence about me. They said I was someone to watch, they said I was a real pearl.

  You made me glow. You made me big, full. You pushed my voice, you gave me a woman’s voice. A real pearl. Before I even knew your name, you lit me up. I think I’ll keep you, I said, holding the paper and looking down, whoever you are.

  I keep you.

  PART SIX

  Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me

  Sophia

  CHAPTER 47

  CHICAGO, 1965

  IT IS MORNING and now I am eleven. I kick off my blanket, get out of bed, and look at myself in the mirror, wondering if I look different because of what I’ve seen, the grown-ups at the party. How everything goes wrong. Mother and Jim wrapped around each other in her room last night. I don’t, though. Somehow I look the same. I rearrange the little ceramic raccoon family on my dresser so that the baby raccoons are all lined up on the edge about to jump. Then I lay the mother raccoon on her side. She is asleep and doesn’t know about the babies. I look in the mirror again. Nothing has changed so far as I can tell.

  My dress hangs over the chair. The hole in my skirt is larger than I thought and it still smells like something burned. I sit on the floor, take the lid off my record player, and put on Skeeter Davis, keeping the volume low so they don’t know I’m up.

  My notebook is on the floor next to my record player. I stare at it. Finally I turn to the list in the back. Under David, I write Jim. And in the characteristics column I write: my friend. my dad (kind of). I look at all the names on the list. All the people who loved her are gone now, except for Jim. All you have to do is look at my list to see what’s going to happen.

  I hide my notebook way under my bed, not wanting to look at that list of names ever again.

  My stomach growls. I go into the kitchen.

  Morning, kitten, says Mother. I wave.

  Jim pulls out a chair for me.

  Whatcha doin’? Jim asks.

  Getting something to eat.

  You still sore at me about last night? says Mother.

  I stare at the toaster, the coils brightening.

  It’s okay if you are, she says.

  I ignore them both.

  How about we make some pancakes? says Jim.

  Don’t have the ingredients.

  I’ll go get the makings, he says. Okay?

  I shrug.

 
; I’m off, then.

  I look at Mother and then run after Jim. Wait. I’m coming with you.

  At Clanton’s, Jim opens a container of eggs to make sure none is broken.

  How are they? I say.

  All good.

  I open the lid for myself while he’s still holding it. Yup. Then I pick up one of the eggs, study it, hold it out in front of me, and let it drop on the floor.

  Jim looks at me, then at the egg mess. What the hell?

  What? I ask. You could photograph it.

  Jim stares at me for a long time. Fine. Sit right there.

  I sit on the edge of the cooler. He photographs me there, my shoes very close to the egg, which looks like a planet exploded.

  Do we need flour? he asks.

  Probably.

  We get flour and syrup and put them on the counter next to the register.

  There’s an egg on the floor back there, Jim says to Mr. Clanton.

  As we head home, I take a deep breath and tell him, I saw you last night.

  What do you mean?

  With Mother. In her bed.

  He stops, frowns, moves the bag of groceries to his other arm. Oh, doll. He shakes his head. You gotta stop sneaking around. There are things kids just aren’t meant to see.

  Too late.

  You want to talk about it? he says.

  What am I supposed to say?

  I don’t know. How you feel?

  Mad.

  Okay, he says. Because—

  You’re stupid.

  Why am I stupid?

  I stop walking and face him. You ruined it! We were fine! The way it was! Now you’re on the list!

  Sophia, everything is fine. This isn’t going to change anything.

  Everything’s always changing, I tell him. Nothing sticks. Ever.

  Let’s hold on a second. We sit down on a curb. I put my head on my knees and cry a little into my jeans. Jim rests his hand on my back.

  What’s different about me, what I don’t think you understand, is that I’m not going anywhere, whether your mother loves me or not.

  He lifts my face up, holds it in his hands, and peers down at me over the top of his glasses. You want me to be your dad?