Gussie turned it over in her fingers. “Where do you do this?”
“The shop is over on Chrystie Street,” I said, “but Mr. Moscovitz let me take work home. Don’t worry, we won’t make a mess. We’re very careful.”
“Gussela is a seamstress,” Mr. Garoff said. “She has good job at shirtwaist factory on Washington Square.”
“Is that where they make those pretty Gibson Girl blouses?” Maureen asked.
“It’s one of the places,” Gussie said. “Probably the largest. Our company takes up the top three floors of the building. Over four hundred people work there.”
I couldn’t imagine workin’ in a place that large. No wonder Gussie seemed so sophisticated. Her job made ours seem childish. Still, I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to apply for a job in a big factory even if they’d take me.
Gussie got up to pour more tea into our glasses, servin’ her father first. “This tea not usual,” Mr. Garoff said.
“It’s very good,” I said, thinkin’ he meant this was somethin’ special served in our honor.
Mr. Garoff leaned toward me. “I mean you not usually drink our tea. You get your own tea.”
Gussie laughed. “Oh, Papa. A few extra tea leaves won’t put us into the poorhouse.”
“Why rent out room if it costs money instead of bringing money?” he said.
“We can buy our own tea,” Maureen said. “We like Irish tea, anyway.”
“Do you use one of those machines for your sewin’?” I asked, hopin’ to distract them from Maureen’s rudeness.
Gussie slipped back into her place at the table. “Yes, it makes the work go much faster.”
“Our mother is a seamstress,” I said, “but she does everything by hand.” Thinking that made her sound backward, I added, “She makes dresses for a fancy shop in Limerick.”
“She must be very patient,” Gussie said.
I thought about that. “Patient” was not a word I’d use to describe Ma, but I let it go.
We managed an awkward conversation until our glasses were empty. Gussie was friendly enough, but she seemed to regard us with curiosity, and her father’s glares made it clear that he wasn’t pleased to have us as renters. Finally, we excused ourselves to go back to work. I thanked Gussie for the tea, and she said, “I hope you’ll enjoy living here.”
I smiled at Maureen. That meant that some sort of decision had been made over our little tea party. We had found a place to stay, at least until the rest of the Garoff family came over from Russia.
I relit the lamp, and Maureen and I counted out the stems in bunches of ten. For all our hard work, we had only managed to make 1,247 stems. We worked another hour, but when Mr. Garoff made a comment purposely loud enough for us to hear about the cost of lamp oil, we extinguished the light and went to bed.
“We’ll get up at dawn,” I whispered to Maureen. “Maybe we can finish the rest so I can take them back in the mornin’.”
“Is the shop open on Sunday?”
“I forgot what day it was. We just need to have them ready on Monday, then.”
* * *
Sunday mornin’, Gussie told us where to find a Catholic church. I figured lyin’ to Ma about stayin’ at Uncle Patrick’s was bad enough. The very least I could do was get myself and Maureen to Mass.
We started right in on the stems when we got home, but we barely had all three thousand stems bundled up and ready by bedtime that night.
“My fingers are sore from bendin’ the wire,” Maureen complained. “How are we goin’ to do this day after day?”
I looked at the red stripes on my own fingers. “Maybe we’ll get calluses,” I said. “It must get easier. Nobody would do this job if it stayed so painful.”
“They would if they wanted to eat,” Maureen said. Before I could come up with an encouragin’ thought, she had fallen asleep sittin’ up on the feather bed, leanin’ against the wall.
18
First thing Monday mornin’, I headed for Mr. Moscovitz’s shop with the finished stems. Maureen had whined about goin’ along with me, but I didn’t want her to cause problems.
A dusting of snow had fallen durin’ the night, makin’ the sidewalks slippery as I walked along. The girls were just settlin’ in at the tables when I got there. Mr. Moscovitz looked up. “Ah, so the little thief has returned.”
I handed him the bundle of stems. “I didn’t steal them. It just took longer than I expected to do them.”
He opened the bundle, dumped the stems on the table, and started tossin’ some of them aside.
“What are you doin’?” I asked.
“I’m throwing out the bad ones,” he said. “You don’t expect me to pay for stems I can’t use, do you?”
“If you show me what’s wrong with them, I’ll fix them.”
Mr. Moscovitz kept addin’ to the discard pile. “I’m running a business here, not a school.”
I picked up one of the rejected stems and looked it over, but I couldn’t see a thing wrong with it. I remembered what Mr. Moscovitz had said about me being charged for the materials on the stems I had ruined. I could see the money for our hard work slippin’ away with each stem he rejected.
“Please, Mr. Moscovitz,” I said quietly. “I really need the work now. My mother and youngest sister have gone back to Ireland. I have to earn the money to take care of me and my sister Maureen.”
Mr. Moscovitz raised his eyebrows at this remark, but said nothin’.
Laughter came from the workers’ table. I had spoken so quietly to Mr. Moscovitz, I was sure they couldn’t have heard me. Tessa had just said somethin’ to the others, and looked at me with a smirk on her face. How had I ever thought she might be a friend? Wasn’t there anyone I could trust in this country?
Mr. Moscovitz shoved the stems aside. “It will take too long to sort these out now. You come back tonight, after the shop closes, and I’ll give you the pay you deserve. Not a cent less … or more.”
“What time is that?” I asked, rememberin’ that I had left early the day I worked here.
“Come at eight,” he said.
I left the shop feelin’ helpless. I had hoped to go home with money in my pocket. Now I knew Mr. Moscovitz could pay me as little as he pleased, and I had no way to fight it. The thought occurred to me that I might be better off workin’ at the shop again, instead of takin’ work home. That way there would be witnesses to what I had produced, although I couldn’t see any of the other girls stickin’ up for me if I got into a dispute with Mr. Moscovitz. As far as they were concerned, I was an outsider, and not worth riskin’ their jobs over.
When I got home, Maureen and I went out to buy tea and a pot to steep it in. They were both more expensive than I’d expected, but Mr. Garoff had made it clear that he wouldn’t be sharin’ his tea with us, so I had no choice. I had wanted to buy a knife for cuttin’ bread, but decided that was a luxury we couldn’t afford until I knew how much money we’d be makin’ on a regular basis. Our small loaf was almost gone. I figured we might be able to get one more meal out of it, then we’d have to buy another. At least we had a room that was warm and dry, and that was somethin’ to be thankful for.
* * *
I arrived at the shop that night just as the girls were leavin’. Tessa came over to me. “You’re a fool to come back,” she said. “That old goat won’t give you a penny.” Then she turned and ran to catch up to the others.
When I went into the shop, Mr. Moscovitz was hunched over his ledger book at the table. He barely glanced at me. “Sit down and wait. I’m busy.”
I took a seat at the far end of the table. Two of the older women were wrappin’ themselves up in scarves and talkin’ in Russian or Polish, I couldn’t tell which. One of them made a cluckin’ sound with her tongue and shook her head as they shuffled by me on their way to the door. They were still angry at me for takin’ work home? Well, so be it.
When the door shut behind the two women, Mr. Moscovitz closed his ledger and stood up
, stretchin’ his back. “Ah, the workday is over. Now is time to relax, no? Here, let me take your coat.” He folded it, placed it carefully on the table, and smiled at me.
I felt a sense of relief. I smiled back at him.
He went over to the stove and poured two glasses of tea. He set one in front of me, then unwrapped a paper and pulled out two small pastries.
“This is the time of day I treat myself,” he said. He ripped the paper into two “plates” and shoved one over next to my tea.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his big belly. “No need to rush, right? No one will worry if you’re not home right away?”
“Well, there’s my sister.” I was startin’ to feel uneasy.
He pulled a piece of sugar candy from his pocket and set it on the table. “You give this to your sister when you get home.”
Mr. Moscovitz sipped his tea, watchin’ me. “You know, I see many girls who come here for work. Many girls. Most don’t have the good sense God gave them. But every now and then, I see a special girl. One like you, Rose.”
I could feel myself blushin’.
Mr. Moscovitz took a big bite of pastry, spillin’ sugar on his vest and tie, then talked with his mouth full. “I’m going to expand this shop, Rose, and I’ll need someone to manage it for me. Of course, this won’t happen right away, but maybe in another month or so. I’ll need someone with a good head on her shoulders.”
Was he offerin’ me the job? I couldn’t tell. Why would he pick me over someone like Tessa? I took a sip of tea, but could barely swallow.
“The job will pay well,” he continued, leanin’ toward me. “Very well. It could put your worries about caring for your sister to rest.”
His face was so close to mine, I could see the sparkles of sugar on his lower lip and in his beard. Then, suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to my feet. Before I knew what was happenin’, he had me pressed close to his chest and was kissin’ me hard on the mouth. I struggled to get away, but he held both of my hands firmly behind my back. He slammed me down backward on the table, and I heard the glasses hit the floor and shatter. I managed to turn my face away from him and scream, but nobody came. Who would hear?
“Be smart,” he shouted. “Think of your sister. You don’t want her to starve, do you?”
All I knew at that moment was that I would rather have Maureen and me cold in the ground than have this beast touch me. As he moved in to kiss me again, I clamped my teeth down on his nose. He let out a bellow and reeled back, knockin’ over several chairs and fallin’ to the floor.
I dove for the door and tried to open the latch, but my fingers wouldn’t work right. All of a sudden Mr. Moscovitz was on his feet and headin’ for me. I gave one hard yank, the door unlatched, and I burst outside.
I ran through the front building and out onto the street. My mind was racin’. I couldn’t remember how to get back to the apartment. I reached the end of the block and didn’t recognize the name of the street. Where was I? Had I run the wrong way? Was he followin’ me? I looked back down the street. There was no sign of him.
My knees went weak. I leaned back against a wall, breathin’ hard. The cold of the brick cut through my dress. My coat! I had left it at the shop. It was the middle of winter, and now I had no coat.
I licked my lips and tasted sugar. I hadn’t taken a single bite of my pastry. I remembered Mr. Moscovitz’s sugar-coated lips and sank to my knees. I vomited up every bite of food I’d had all day.
19
I was half froze by the time I found our apartment. Gussie and Mr. Garoff were sittin’ at the table when I burst in. I ran past them into our little closet without sayin’ a word.
Maureen had been nappin’ but sat bolt upright when I flung myself down on the feather bed next to her. “Rose! What happened to ye?”
“Nothin’,” I said, buryin’ my face in the feather bed. It smelled like Ma and home. I wanted to wrap it around me like a cocoon and never come out again.
I could feel Maureen’s fingers pokin’ at my bare shoulder. “Rose, yer sleeve is partly ripped off. What happened?”
I started to sob. That awful man had ruined my dress.
Maureen gripped my shoulder now and tried to turn me over. “Rose, tell me what’s wrong. Ye’re scarin’ me.”
“Leave me alone!” I wailed. I couldn’t tell her what had happened. How could I have been so stupid? Ma was right. I couldn’t take care of myself, much less a younger sister.
I heard Maureen get up and leave. Then, a few minutes later, she was next to me again, pattin’ my back. I turned over and swatted her hand away. But when I looked up, it wasn’t Maureen. It was Gussie.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I thought ye were my sister.”
“Shhhh.” Gussie put her finger to her lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I sent Maureen out with my father for a little while. There’s not much privacy in these tight quarters, and I thought you could use a little time to yourself.”
Maureen was alone with Mr. Garoff? I sat up. “No! I have to get my sister!”
I was all the way to the apartment door before Gussie caught my arm. “Wait! Are you afraid that my father will harm Maureen? Because, if you are, I can assure you he’s a gentle and honorable man.”
Gussie practically wrestled me over to the table and pushed me firmly into a chair. “You’re not running out into the cold with no coat on. If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, that’s fine. But at least drink a glass of tea and try to calm down.”
I was shiverin’ so hard, I could hardly bring the glass to my lips. Gussie sat across the table from me and watched. It didn’t take long before I started tellin’ her about what happened. I told how Moscovitz hadn’t paid me the money for the stems earlier in the day, and how he wanted me to go back after the shop closed to get my pay.
“You were foolish to go there alone at night,” she said.
“I don’t need ye tellin’ me that,” I shouted. “I’m sick and tired of everybody pointin’ out everything I do wrong. But my stupidity didn’t give him the right to…” I couldn’t even say the words.
“What did he do, Rose?”
I started cryin’ again.
“Did he hurt you? Did he…”
“He kissed me,” I cried, feelin’ the revulsion all over.
“Is that all?”
“Is that all! He was a filthy, disgustin’ old man! It was terrible!”
“I know. I know. I didn’t mean to belittle what happened. You’re just lucky that’s all he did.” She gave me her handkerchief. “I’m assuming you didn’t get the money for your work tonight.”
I shook my head and blew my nose.
Gussie banged her fist on the table, causing the glasses to clatter and me to jump like a nervous cat. “It makes me furious. We fought so hard for our rights, but the owners of these shops don’t care. They just do as they please, and nobody stops them.”
“What do ye mean about fightin’?” I asked, wipin’ my nose.
Gussie looked at me as if I had half a brain. “The strikes, of course. Have you not heard about them?”
I was embarrassed to admit my ignorance. When I didn’t answer, she came to her own conclusion. “I forgot. The strikes were two years ago. You were in Ireland, weren’t you?” She rubbed her forehead. “How strange. It seemed like such a revolution to us, I would have thought the whole world knew.”
“Ye went out on strike?”
“Yes. Hundreds of us. And not just in New York, either. We had girls go out in other cities, like Rochester and Philadelphia. The police beat us and threw us into jail. Look here.” She pulled back the sleeve of her blouse, revealing a large lump on her wrist. “A policeman broke my arm with his nightstick and it never healed right. They wouldn’t let me out of jail to see a doctor.”
“Ye were in jail?” She looked so fragile, I couldn’t imagine her standin’ up to a policeman.
Gussie nodded. “Don’t mention this a
round my father. It almost killed him to have his daughter in trouble with the law. This sort of thing just isn’t done by women in the old country. Father thinks I should keep quiet, but when I see something wrong, I want to change it. Luckily, I’m not the only one who feels that way.”
I was beginnin’ to understand what Gussie’s father meant about havin’ one big-mouthed girl in the house. “I don’t know how ye can be so brave,” I said. “I’m not meek by any means, but I’d not stand up to a policeman with a stick, that’s for sure.”
“One person might not have the courage, Rose, but when there are hundreds, it’s not so hard. Even if you get hurt or jailed, there are many to help. We even had the support of some of the most important women in New York. It’s one thing to have poor working girls in a picket line, but when you have society ladies, well, that’s a news story.”
Gussie’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. “I’ve been rattling on and not giving you a chance to talk. What are your plans, now that you won’t be going back to the flower-making shop?”
She thought I had plans? I didn’t have an idea in my head. “I guess I need to find another place to work.”
“That’s just what I was thinking. You have some sewing skills, right? Your mother was a seamstress in Ireland?”
“Well, yes, but I’m nowhere near as good as her.”
“Do you know how to run a sewing machine?”
“No. I’ve never…”
“Don’t worry. I can get a machine and some scrap material for you to practice on. Then, if you want, I’ll talk to the foreman at work and see if he’ll give you a job.”
“Do ye think I could learn fast enough to get a factory job?”
“You know the answer to that question better than me, Rose.”
I had my doubts, but I wasn’t about to turn down a job. “There’s just one other thing,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Well, I have nothin’ to wear.”
“What you have on is fine,” Gussie said. “You don’t have to be fashionable to work at the Triangle, although some of the girls spend most of their paychecks trying to look like fine ladies. It makes more sense to wear serviceable clothes. After you get your first pay, I can take you to some shops that have good clothes for reasonable prices.”
Ashes of Roses Page 10
