Love, hugs, and kisses, Toni
August 12
Dear Toni,
To be truthful, L.R. seems like someone I knew a million years ago. Or should I say someone I didn’t know? I can’t even think what he looks like. Toni, this is what’s on my mind—Mom is talking about staying on for another month. I can’t understand her. I don’t know how her mind works. All she’ll say is she’s not prepared to go home as long as my father is still in Alaska. What’s one thing got to do with the other?
Love, Julie
August 12
Dear Julie,
My father’s had a heart attack. I’m scared. I don’t want him to die. Pray for him.
Love, Toni
CHAPTER
NINE
The intensive care unit was noisy and bright with lights. Machines hummed, hissed, and burped; nurses and doctors talked in loud, fast voices. “You can have ten minutes,” the duty nurse told Toni and her mother. They walked past rows of beds with white-sheeted forms hooked into all kinds of machines and monitors. Her mother stopped at a bed at the bottom of the left-hand row.
Toni slowly approached the bed. Was that really her father? She had never seen him lie so still. He was not a still man. He was always busy with something around the house. Even when he took a nap on the couch, he was in motion, twitching, mumbling, turning from side to side. But now he lay without movement, covered by a white sheet.
“Daddy.” She kissed his cheek. His eyes opened and he raised a hand slowly, then let it drop.
Her mother stood on the other side of the bed. His head turned slowly toward her. “Going to say ‘I told you so’?” he whispered.
“Shhh,” her mother said.
So of course he began talking. It was painful to hear him speak. “I … was … asleep … at the station,” he began. Each word came out separately, with little puffs of breath between them. “Woke up around five with a bad … feeling in my chest. I ate … fried onion rings last night.”
“Fried onion rings,” her mother said on a sigh. “Hal. Kid food.”
“I … took antacid, got dressed.… Still in pain, thought I was going to pass out.…”
Toni leaned closer and took her father’s hand.
“Eddy … called the ambulance.” His eyes closed.
“Where is he?” a booming voice called just then. “Where is that old faker?” It was Eddy Mason himself, holding his hat. His bald, freckled head shone under the lights. He grabbed Toni’s father’s feet through the white sheet. “Hal, what the hell is this, lying around resting in the middle of the day?”
Her father’s eyes opened. “They told me … I’m going to have to … take it easy for a while.”
“Don’t believe it, Mrs. Chessmore,” Eddy said. “This guy’s a working fool. He’s going to be back at the station answering four alarms by the end of the week.” He winked at Toni.
CHAPTER
TEN
August 14
Dear Julie,
At home, the phone doesn’t stop ringing for a moment. My sister flew in this morning to see Dad. Mom and I were at the hospital when she got there. Martine said, “Well, Dad, I’m sorry it had to come to this, but sometimes these things can be blessings in disguise.” I wanted to kick her, Julie! Imagine telling him almost dying and being in horrible pain was a blessing!
She didn’t stop, either. She said, “I know Mom has wanted you to quit smoking for years, and lose weight, too.” And then she told him he actually looked very well. “Better then the last time I saw you,” she said, as if the heart attack had been good for him! Sometimes I think my sister dropped down to earth from another galaxy.
Did you ever notice the way hospitals smell, Julie? As soon as I walk in, I notice it. I hate the smell. I probably hate hospitals. I want my father to get better and get out of there and come home! Julie, write me soon.
Love you, Toni
August 15
Dear Julie,
Did you get my letter about my father? Mom says he’s improving every day, but I don’t know what to think. He’s so changed. You know how he is, always doing something. Well, now he doesn’t do anything but lie in bed. The worst part is that he doesn’t even complain about it. I know he has to rest his heart, but it scares me. Write, please.
Love, Toni
August 17
Dear Toni,
I only got your letter today. It took almost a week to get out here. I’m really sorry about your father. I hope he’s much better already! Well, if heart attacks happened to kids, I’d be a major candidate. Yeah, I’m still smoking, plus I’ve gained weight, which I hate (wish I could give it you), but sometimes there’s nothing to do here but eat.
My mother was crying last night. My aunt Wendy kept giving me significant looks and jerking her head toward Mom, meaning she wanted me to say something to make Mom feel better. I know I should have, but I didn’t. All I could think was that Mom was the one who brought us out here. It wasn’t my idea, or Heather’s.
Love, Julie
P.S. Give my love to your father. Give him a hug for me.
P.P.S. I hope you don’t think I’m totally selfish, just talking about myself.
August 17
Dear Julie,
My father is out of the ICU. They moved him into a private room a few days ago. But he is still weak and walks down the hospital corridor like an old man, with little shuffly steps. It makes me want to cry.
Julie, can’t you talk to your mother about coming back? Tell her you have to be here for school. Don’t lose your temper, just talk to her calmly, and I’m sure she’ll understand.
Love, Toni
P.S. Do you think about L.R. at all? He’s still working in the drugstore. Just thought you’d like to know.
August 20
Dear Toni,
Well, it’s official—we’re not coming home at the end of the month. Don’t scream. I’ve done enough of that for both of us. Are you ever going to have kids? I’m not. I wouldn’t want to screw up someone else’s life.
Love, Julie
August 23
Dear Julie,
Yesterday we went to see the heart specialist, and he told my father the heart attack was a warning. “The next one could be the last one, Mr. Chessmore,” he said. He told Dad he had to stop smoking, start exercising, change his diet, and lose weight. My father said he didn’t know if he could do all that. He said, “I don’t know if I have the willpower.”
The doctor wants Dad to go to a place in Ohio called the Hertha Center, where he can be intensively retrained in his habits. Mom asked how long the program was, and Dad asked how much it cost. The doctor answered Mom (ten days), but to Dad he said, “What do you care how much, Mr. Chessmore? Go into debt if you have to. Do you want to live to see your daughter grow up?” I wish he hadn’t said that! I felt so sorry for my father. Julie, write me soon.
Love, Toni
August 24
Dear Julie,
Today I found out that while Mom and Dad go to the Hertha Center I’m to stay with my sister in New York City. Julie, you know I’d be better off with a total stranger than with Martine! But I’m going on Monday. Mrs. Abish is going to take care of Paws. My next letter to you will be from New York City. Do you think I can survive ten days with my sister, the ice cube? Martine’s address is 75 Bank Street, New York City, NY 10011. Write me.
Love you always, Toni
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
The moment she got off the bus, the oily stench from the buses parked one behind another in the dark tunnel made Toni feel queasy. Was it tension? Anxiety? Fear? All of the above? Half of the trip she’d spent wondering if she was on the right bus. The other half, trying to imagine what it would be like spending almost two weeks with a sister she’d never before spent more than two hours with.
She shifted her shoulder bag. The crowd streamed into the building, and Toni followed. “Just wait for me on the second level by the escalator,” Martine had said
. The second level? Was that where she was now?
She looked around, checking the signs. She seemed to be in the right place. An endless stream of people flowed around her. Where did they all come from? Martine had said firmly that Toni was not to go down into the main terminal. Fine, but what if Martine didn’t come? What if she’d forgotten the time? Or the place? Or forgotten Toni altogether? Toni glanced at her watch. She was fast losing the little bit of faith she had in her sister.
Five anxious minutes later she finally saw Martine, coming up the escalator, looking cool in a loose, pale, lettuce-green dress. She always forgot how beautiful her sister was. Martine seemed to float into Toni’s eyes. Her hair was in a thick twist on top of her head. Her ears were pierced in many places, and in each one was a little sparkle of color, a tiny jeweled earring.
“Hello, Toni. Sorry I’m late. The traffic …” She turned her cheek for Toni’s kiss and took the shoulder bag from her. “Is this all you have? How was your trip?”
“I thought you forgot me,” Toni blurted.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Toni shifted her knapsack and followed her sister through the huge terminal and out into the street. She was unprepared for the noise and heat. “Are you hungry?” Martine asked.
“Not too much,” Toni said. Her mother had given her a care package with sandwiches, fruit, and cookies.
“Good, we’ll eat at home. We could take the subway down to the Village, but the stations are sweatboxes.”
Toni nodded.
“We could cab it, but with the traffic we can probably get there almost as fast walking.”
She nodded again.
“Well, which one?”
“Oh. You want me to decide? Uh, walk.” How was she supposed to know the best way to go?
Martine veered off the sidewalk where men in hard hats were tearing up the pavement. Toni trotted after her. At the corner Martine crossed, ignoring cars that stopped only inches from them. A man in a T-shirt, his big belly shaking, worked a jackhammer in a cloud of dust.
Toni’s head turned one way, then the other, trying to see and hear everything. “Outa the way!” someone yelled, and she leaped aside as two men raced past her carrying a long, rolled-up rug on their shoulders.
“This is the city, Toni,” her sister said. “You have to be awake here.” Was Toni supposed to thank her for that information?
“Watches, watches,” a tall black woman standing behind a little table sang. “The best, the prettiest, the finest watches right here.” They passed stores with their wares in bins and racks out on the sidewalk. They passed hills of garbage in black plastic bags, they passed a man sleeping on the sidewalk and other men with their hands out, begging. Ahead of her, Toni heard a man say, “Do I look meaner in this shirt?” And he answered himself, “Yeah, definitely more aggressive.” She began to write a letter to Julie in her head.
Dear Julie, the noise in the city is like a slap in the head. It’s huge, it’s immense, it’s like a thing in itself. Trucks pound the streets, horns blow, sirens scream, everyone is talking or yelling.
A woman touched Toni’s arm. “Do you have any change for me?” she asked in a soft voice. “I’m hungry.” She had a crown of thin gray hair. Toni fumbled in her pocket and gave her all her change. “Oh, thank you,” the woman said. “Thank you, dear, thank you!”
“You have to ignore those people,” her sister said when Toni caught up with her.
“She was hungry, Martine.”
“Thirsty, more likely,” Martine said tartly.
Dear Julie, Remember that day in the girls’ room when you shouted “Witch with a B!” after Heather? Well, in my opinion, compared to Martine, Heather is a heavenly angel.
They stopped for a red light, and Martine balanced on the edge of the curb, glancing down the street. “I’m glad you took a late bus,” she said. “It would have been a hassle for me to leave work early.”
Well, good, she had done something right, anyway. She knew Martine worked in a brokerage firm and that it had something to do with money. “What do you do at work?” she said. And hastily, before her sister could say, “What do I do? I work,” she said, “I mean, I know you’re a broker.”
“Right. Our firm goes all over the world,” Martine said. For the first time she became animated. “It’s fascinating work. Wednesday I phoned England. Friday I was on the line to Japan.”
“How did you talk to them?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well … Japan. You don’t speak Japanese, do you?”
“The Japanese all speak English. But for the most part I’m talking to Americans. Americans live and work in other countries too,” she lectured, as if Toni didn’t know anything. And to drive home the point she said, “There’s a great deal more to the world than little Ridgewood.”
Dear Julie, I haven’t even been here an hour yet, and already I’m wondering how I’m going to manage ten days!
“How did Dad seem these last few days?” Martine asked. “Mom told me the doctor says he’s got to change the way he’s living, lose weight, et cetera.”
Toni nodded and looked at her watch. Her parents’ plane would have landed in Cleveland hours ago. They were probably all settled in now.
“Well, maybe something good will come out of the heart attack,” Martine went on. “Dad had terrible habits. He’s very self-destructive. He’s needed to lose weight for years, he’s always been too fat.”
Not that fat, Toni thought furiously.
Before they got to her apartment, Martine stopped to buy groceries. The fruits and vegetables at the Light of Spring Deli Market were outside, displayed like jewels on sloping stands. A man with black hair said to Martine, “You want bananas tonight? Nice yellow color to go with your green dress.”
Bananas to go with Martine’s dress? Something else to write Julie.
“Beautiful colors, yellow and green,” the man said.
Her sister bought the bananas.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
“I hope you’re not one of those people who thrash around all night,” Martine said. “I’m a light sleeper.” She cleared the last of their supper dishes off the table.
“I can sleep on the couch,” Toni said. It had wooden arms and two pillows against a wooden back.
“The couch is too small to sleep on. We’d have to saw you in half to make you fit.” Amusing thought? She smiled.
“Everything is small here,” Toni said neutrally. The kitchen was no bigger than a closet. The red rug between the couch and a small matching wooden chair was the size of a spot.
“Not small,” Martine corrected her, “scaled. The furniture is scaled to the apartment.”
Toni nodded. She didn’t know how Martine could keep saying the word apartment with a straight face. It was one small room, plus the tiny kitchen and, if possible, an even tinier bathroom. The whole place could have fit nicely into their living room at home, with plenty of room to spare.
Martine went into the bathroom. Toni heard the shower. A few minutes later the phone rang. It was Toni’s parents, first her father on the phone, then her mother, then her father again, both of them asking questions. “How was the trip? … Did Martine meet you all right? … Are you all settled in? … Did you go out to eat supper? … How are you and Martine getting along? … So how do you like the big city?” They wanted to know everything.
Toni would have talked a lot longer, but her parents had to go off to another orientation session. Her mother came back on the phone. “Give Martine my love, Toni. I’ll call again in a few days. And you have a wonderful time, sweetheart. Good-bye, Toni. I love you.”
“I love you, Mom.”
After she hung up, Toni got into her pajamas. Her knapsack and bag were on the couch. Maybe Martine would give her a place to put things in the closet, though it didn’t look like it had an extra inch of space. It was packed from floor to ceiling with clothes, shoes, boxes, and bags.
Toni sat down on the couch. Not too comfortable. She sat on the chair. A moment later she tried the bed. Hard. It was a double mattress on the floor, or more exactly, a futon on the floor. There was a little goosenecked lamp pinned to the wall. Under it were a few polished stones arranged on a tiny mat around a framed picture of Alex, Martine’s fiancé. At the foot of the futon was a little bureau with a tiny TV on top, and next to it was a clock about as big as a pack of matches. It was nine-thirty.
Martine came out of the bathroom, her skin glistening, her hair in wet snakes around her face. “Mom called,” Toni said. “She sent you her love.”
“Is she okay?” Martine asked. “How’s Dad doing?”
Toni nodded. “Good.”
“I’m beat,” her sister said. “I want to go to sleep now. Lights out. Okay with you?”
What was Toni supposed to say? No, I want to keep the lights on and keep you awake. She lay down and discovered she was tired. She’d been up since early that morning.
“Move,” Martine said, standing over her. She pointed toward the wall. Toni moved. “More.” She moved again. Martine nodded and shut off the light. “If you’re going to thrash,” she said into the darkness, “thrash that way. Toward the wall.”
“I don’t thrash,” Toni muttered under her breath. She lay still, her back to her sister, listening to Martine’s breathing. Images, words, colors, and sounds tumbled through her mind. She was in the bus … walking down the street … almost asleep, but then her knees started to ache. She didn’t dare move, for fear of disturbing Martine. Her eyes blinked open. Light came in from the street. She heard someone cough. Then, over her head, a thump, a yell, and her heart skittered. She thought she’d never sleep.
She woke up to the hum of the air conditioner and the sun burning through the windows. Martine was gone. Toni dressed, folded sheets, threw the cover over the bed, and made herself something to eat. She washed the dishes. “Now what?” she said out loud. She pushed aside her clothes on the couch and sat down, suddenly, horribly, surprised by the thought of where she was.
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