“I know, honey, but he’d have to give up his practice here and find one down there, and God knows he’d have some competition.” It was a running joke of theirs that there was a dentist on every street corner in Studio City, and all of them were running specials on tooth whitening.
“Yeah,” said Bethy. She put the last peeled potato on Ruth’s cutting board. “So I can ask her?”
Ruth sighed. “Yes. Go ahead and ask her. One week.”
“Yay!” Bethany jumped off the counter and skipped off to the den.
“One week!” Ruth shouted down the hall.
THEY MET ALLISON AT SEA-TAC AIRPORT THE FOLLOWING Friday. The girl stood out even in the midst of the mass of travelers surrounding the baggage carousel. Tall and willowy, she wore a pair of oversize sunglasses and carried over her shoulder a new buckled, riveted, belted, cinched, glazed leather tote that had probably cost as much as Ruth’s monthly food allowance. With the sunglasses on, she could have been anywhere from eighteen to thirty-five; men sized her up as they walked by, and more than one woman looked back at her as she passed. By contrast, Bethy looked like the young girl she was as she raced across the baggage claim area squealing.
The girls hugged extravagantly; Allison twirled Bethy around. “I’ve missed you so much!” Ruth heard Bethany say.
“I know!” Allison put her sunglasses on top of her head and looked around. “So this is Seattle?”
“Well, it’s Sea-Tac,” Bethany said. “Where we live is about forty-five minutes from here.”
“I can’t wait!”
Ruth remembered Mimi telling her once that although Allison looked like a sophisticate, the only place outside of Texas she’d ever been was LA.
At the carousel the girls had spotted Allison’s suitcase—big enough to hold a body, but with wheels, thank God—and hefted it off the carousel. Ruth thought of the steamer trunks that movie stars and celebrities had once traveled with. God knew what Allison had packed, to take up so much room. Ruth had visions of a microwave, small TV, and other light appliances.
“We’re ready, Mom,” Bethy panted. She and Allison towed the suitcase between them. “She brought only this one bag.”
Ruth gave Allison a hug. “Welcome to Seattle, honey.”
“We’re going to have the best time,” Bethy said.
“Oh, I know,” Allison said; and then, to Ruth, with heartbreaking simplicity, “Thank you so much for inviting me.”
When they got home, Ruth watched her move from room to room, taking it all in: the oak bookcases and built-in china cabinet and cheerful barnyard watercolors on the living room walls; Ruth’s ceramic pieces on the coffee table and fireplace mantel; the deep window seat at the end of the dining room; the braided rugs and warm fir floors throughout the house. There was a troubling wistfulness about the girl—exactly what you might expect, Ruth thought, from an orphan. Or from a girl who had too many houses and too few homes.
ACCORDING TO FAMILY TRADITION, FRIDAY WAS SPAGHETTI night in the Rabinowitz household. Ruth made her from-scratch marinara sauce with sausage and meatballs, plus garlic bread and a salad, and the girls made up an extravagant dessert using a graham-cracker crust, chocolate pudding, half a melted Hershey’s bar, a half cup of crushed peanuts, a touch of Kahlúa (Ruth’s contribution), and lots and lots of Cool Whip. Poor Hugh would have to settle for a sugar-free pudding cup.
On a whim Ruth said, “Girls, let’s use the silver tonight, how about that? Honey, go into the pantry and bring out Nana’s flatware.”
Bethy and Allison retrieved a heavy oak box lined in flannel. “Whoa,” said Allison when Ruth opened it up. “This is all silver?”
“Sterling,” Ruth said, pausing to look. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? We hardly ever use it, though, because it tarnishes too fast. In my mother’s day, people had more time for that kind of thing, polishing silver.”
Allison turned the pieces over and back, examining them minutely. “Well, I’d use it all the time.”
“Would you?” Ruth smiled. “You two can set the table, please. Bethy, use the cloth napkins.”
“We never use cloth napkins,” said Allison.
Ruth wasn’t clear on whether she was referring to her mother’s house or Mimi’s, so she just said, “Sometimes it’s nice. Especially when there’s company.”
“Oh, I know,” said Allison quickly.
The conversation around the dinner table was lively. Ruth believed in honoring her guests with the conversational spotlight, so she asked Allison about her house in Houston.
“It’s huge,” the girl said, wiping her mouth neatly with her napkin and tucking it back in her lap. “It’s probably like two of your houses. He’d just finished building it when he and my mom met. There’s a home theater, which is cool, and a swimming pool that has this bubble you can put over it in winter, except that the water’s still freezing. Plus he has a workout room. With weights and stuff.”
“It sounds lovely,” Ruth said.
“I guess,” Allison said indifferently. She turned to Hugh. “May I have the bread, please?”
It surprised Ruth that the girl had such excellent manners. Whatever the particulars were of her home life, someone had either raised her right or she was a very quick study. Bethy had told her once that Allison’s mother had been a stripper before she married her current husband. Ruth never got a straight answer about whether or not the mother had ever been married to Allison’s father, who, anyway, seemed to be long out of the picture. And the mother had probably been a stripper because she couldn’t make enough money doing anything else. Ruth had heard of girls—women—putting themselves through college that way. Just because you were a stripper didn’t mean you were a bad or immoral person. Ruth thought it was important to remember that.
“You have very nice manners,” Hugh was saying as he passed Allison the bread basket. “Our Bethy could get a few tips.”
“Thank you. Mimi sent me to this etiquette school last year, where they teach you which side the fork goes on and which is your bread plate and stuff like that. How to say please and thank you.”
“Well, whoever it was did a good job,” Hugh said. “Your mother must be very proud of you.”
Allison smiled at him enigmatically and wound up a fork-load of spaghetti using her spoon as a backstop. “She doesn’t understand why I don’t work more. She thinks actors just work all the time, like it’s no big deal to book things. She says Mimi isn’t trying hard enough to sell me.”
“Do you think so?” Hugh asked her. “One thing I’d have to say is the woman seems to have excellent sales skills.”
“I know—she’s really good,” Allison agreed. “She’s one of the best managers in LA. She’s been written up in a bunch of magazines and stuff.”
“Oh?” said Hugh. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“You should hear her on the phone, Daddy,” Bethy chimed in. “She isn’t even that polite. She just calls the casting directors up and tells them who she wants to audition for stuff, and they usually say okay.”
“Usually,” said Allison.
“Usually,” agreed Bethy.
“Well, you girls are in a hard line of work, that’s for sure,” Hugh said.
Allison shrugged. “We like it, though. Don’t we?”
“A lot,” said Bethy.
“Well, sure,” said Ruth.
WHILE SHE DID THE DINNER DISHES, RUTH WATCHED Allison and Bethany playing something on their twin Game Boys, curled side by side on the living room sofa. They had their arms linked; now and then, a forehead quickly touched a forehead. Once, Allison planted a loud, smacky kiss right on the top of Bethany’s head, the way Ruth sometimes did, and Bethany smiled, shy and radiant that this beautiful creature had chosen her.
“It’s really nice here,” Ruth overheard Allison tell Bethy.
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fancy or anything, like your house.”
“I meant your parents. Your mom seems pretty stressed down in LA, but she’
s different here. And I like your dad.”
“Yeah?” said Bethy.
“Yeah,” said Allison, and Ruth could tell by the tone of her voice that she really meant it.
WHEN HUGH OFFERED TO MAKE THE GIRLS PANCAKES ON Sunday morning—despite the fact that he couldn’t eat them himself, because what was the point of pancakes without syrup, and sugar-free syrups just weren’t the same—Allison offered to help.
“Well,” Hugh said. “I’ve never had a helper before. It’s pretty much a one-man job.”
“I could make bacon,” the girl offered. “Do you have any? I always make it at Mimi’s.”
The truth was, he wasn’t all that eager to be alone with the girl. He couldn’t shake the memory of her backing him into the sofa corner in Mimi’s greenroom. Still, she was only a little older than Bethany, and she was trying to be useful, which he applauded. So after consulting with Ruth, he dug a package of turkey bacon out of the refrigerator and handed it to Allison. “It’s nasty stuff, though, I warn you,” he told her.
“I’ve never heard of turkey bacon.”
“Someone’s bad idea,” Hugh said. “But it’s good for us, so we eat it. There are days when I miss fat more than I miss sugar. Here’s a lesson for you: keep an eye on your weight. Not that I imagine you’ll have any problems.”
Allison opened the package of turkey bacon and rummaged around in the cupboards until she found a pan. “Nah, I could eat like ten Twinkies and a whole pizza and I’d still be skinny. We’re both thin, me and my mom.”
“Lucky you.”
“Mimi’s fat, though.”
“I saw that.”
“I’m trying to get her to go on a diet, but she sneaks stuff. Like she’ll wait until she thinks we’re asleep and then she’ll bake a whole batch of Pillsbury crescent rolls and eat them all herself. She’s got high blood pressure, too. If it’s quiet you can hear her breathing and stuff. Wheezing.”
“That’s not good,” said Hugh.
“I know.” Allison turned the bacon strips with a fork.
Hugh ladled batter onto his skillet. Impulsively he said, “Do you really like this acting stuff? The whole Hollywood bit?”
“Of course.”
“So do you think you’ll be a big star one day?”
“I have to be.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” Hugh said, surprised. Allison looked back at him strangely. “No?”
She shrugged.
“Tell me about Bethany. Is she good?”
“She’s pretty good. She could be better, though.”
“Really?”
“Yup. She just needs more practice. You can tell she still gets nervous and stuff.”
“Okay.” Hugh stacked finished pancakes on top of a plate with a paper towel on it, and put the plate in the oven so they’d stay warm. Then he spooned out more batter.
“Do you really like being a dentist?” Allison asked.
“I do. Very much.”
“Yeah, well, you guys have a high suicide rate, though. Dentists.”
“We do?”
Allison nodded. “I read that once in a magazine.”
“Huh.” Hugh flipped four pancakes, two at a time. “Well, I can’t speak for all dentists, of course, but the ones I know seem pretty well adjusted.”
“Yeah, but still.” Allison sniffed at the bacon. “So this smells okay. I mean, not like real bacon, but it smells pretty good.”
“What did you say your father does?” Hugh asked.
“I don’t have a father,” Allison said matter-of-factly.
“Oh. That’s tough,” said Hugh, and meant it.
Allison shrugged. “Yeah. I have a stepfather.”
“Do you?”
“His name is Chet. He owns oil rigs or oil wells or barrels or something. My mom likes him for his money, but he’s not that nice to her. He makes her ask permission before she uses his stuff. Like the last time I was home he yelled at her for borrowing this junky old sweater of his that he probably wouldn’t even be caught dead in. She said it was just a stupid sweater, and he called her the C-word, and then he didn’t talk to us for like five days.”
“Ow,” said Hugh.
“I told her we should’ve kept our apartment just in case, but she said it was too expensive. Which it wasn’t, because it was a dive.”
“Oh?” Hugh was at a loss.
“But I’m not around that much anymore, anyway,” Allison said bluntly. “He pays for me to stay with Mimi.”
“So I gather. Don’t you miss home?”
“Nah. It’s not like here.”
“Here here?”
“You know—this.” She spread her arms wide. “You’re like the perfect family.”
He looked to see if she was mocking him, but if she was, she wasn’t showing it.
“Anyway,” she said, tapping the bacon strips with her fork, “These are done.”
“Okay,” said Hugh.
IT WENT LIKE THAT ALL WEEK: TO RUTH’S LASTING SURPRISE, Allison was a perfect houseguest, blending in, picking up after herself, tidy to a fault—no child should be that dialed into her own care and maintenance—and offering to do dishes and other household chores that Ruth could get Bethy to do only by hitting her over the head with them. Who’d have thought the girl would be a good influence? As a reward, Ruth took them to the top of the Space Needle and for a ferry ride so Allison could see killer whales, and then for lunch in Friday Harbor. Another afternoon she dropped the girls at Bellevue Square, the Seattle area’s most upscale mall, where they wanted to go even though it had exactly the same stores as the Beverly Center in Hollywood. Bethany bought a flippy little skirt that Ruth thought was a tad too short, and Allison bought a silk scarf that Ruth thought no fourteen-year-old should have wanted. As it turned out, she didn’t: she presented it to Ruth as a gift that evening at dinner.
“Oh, honey,” Ruth said in dismay. “You shouldn’t spend your money on me.”
Allison looked crushed. “I thought you’d like it. It’s for Hanukkah.” The holiday had begun several days ago, and each evening they’d been lighting candles in Ruth’s favorite pewter menorah and the girls had each received small gifts: plush slipper-socks with pictures of dogs on them that vaguely resembled Tina Marie; gift certificates for a new Game Boy game apiece; packs of lip gloss in different flavors like bubble gum and cotton candy; matching, hand-carved dreidels made of horn.
Now Bethy told Ruth loyally, “It’s from Gucci, and it took her forever to pick it out.”
Hugh shot Ruth a look across the table: For God’s sake, keep it.
“It might be the most beautiful scarf I’ve ever seen,” Ruth told her sincerely, because it was true, and wrapped the silk around her throat.
Allison beamed and said, “I know some other ways you can tie it, too.”
Ruth didn’t doubt that for a minute.
To Hugh she presented a calfskin wallet, and then, when they all got up to clear the table, she approached Ruth shyly and gave her a long, tight hug, and then gave Hugh a chaste kiss on the cheek. In their bedroom that night, Ruth and Hugh agreed that the girl’s transformation was nothing short of astonishing.
BUT BY THE END OF THE WEEK, THE GIRLS HAD FINALLY begun to wear on each other, so when a neighbor called to see if Bethy could babysit for the afternoon, Ruth suggested that she say yes. Allison stayed behind at the house and helped Ruth unload the dishwasher.
“I think you two have done very well together,” Ruth said. “A week’s a long time.”
“Yeah,” Allison sighed. “Plus she’s younger than me.”
“You’ve been a good role model for her,” said Ruth, because, surprisingly, it was true. “That’s the thing about being an only child. There’s nobody to learn from.”
“I’m an only child,” Allison pointed out.
“Well, you seem to have a natural sense of the world.”
Allison
nodded. “I read a lot of magazines.”
Ruth ran her dish towel around the lip of a casserole to dry it before putting it away in the sideboard. “Do you think you’re pretty?”
If Allison thought this was a strange question—as strange a question as Ruth herself thought it was; it had just popped out—she didn’t show it. She just said, matter-of-factly, “I think I’m beautiful. Hillary’s pretty.”
“I’d think it would be hard to be beautiful,” Ruth said, wiping down the sink.
“Sometimes,” said Allison. “People want stuff from you.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. They want you to like them and pay attention to them. It’s like if they can’t be beautiful, too, they can borrow some of it by being around you.”
“I guess I can see that.”
“Mostly I don’t mind, though. I’m used to it.”
RUTH HAD AGREED THAT THEY COULD USE THE SILVER FOR the rest of Allison’s visit. Allison loved knowing they were eating off precious metal, plus the silver made every meal a festive occasion, even breakfast, when, except for the morning they had pancakes, she and Bethany usually ate cereal and bananas by themselves because they got up so late. Allison always sat in the chair that looked out the bay window into the tiny backyard—the garden, Ruth called it, even though in Allison’s opinion it wasn’t much of a garden, more like a patch of grass the size of Mimi’s dining room table with big, spindly rhododendrons all around it, plus a few rosebushes and some kind of shrub that Allison didn’t recognize but Ruth said was gorgeous when it flowered in the summer. Whatever you called it, the garden was pretty even now, when it was dripping wet. Lots of birds came to use the birdbath and eat seeds from a feeder shaped like a mansion. You never saw little birds like these in LA, or maybe there was just too much else going on for you to pick them out. Allison thought it might be nice to be a bird living here, where all you had to worry about was whether the people remembered to put out enough seeds. From what Allison could see, Ruth always put out plenty—or now Allison did, since Ruth had given her permission. These were fat little birds; you could tell they’d always been well fed. The birds around their house in Houston—well, Chet’s house—didn’t look fat and content the way these birds did. They looked skinny and anxious, like they couldn’t count on things. Her mother had never put out a bird feeder in her life.
Seeing Stars Page 26
