Free Food for Millionaires

by Min Jin Lee

  “You’re an incredibly kind person—you make me feel loved. Like I’m all right. Like”—Casey took a breath—“I’m forgiven.” The thought had taken her by surprise. “No one else does that. And I’ve never told you. And I should have.”

  Ella’s face was unchanged, as if she hadn’t heard a word of what was said.

  “Delia must be fascinating. I bet she’s funny. Ted loves funny people. I can’t remember jokes. I’m quiet and responsible. And she’s probably sexy. Why else would all those men. . . ?” Ella closed her eyes as if she were trying to shut out a memory.

  “Hey! Delia doesn’t matter. Okay?”

  “She’s your friend, too. Everybody wants to be with her.”

  “No, no. You mustn’t think that. C’mon.”

  “But you like her, too. You told me so a long time ago how much you enjoy seeing her. I was jealous, but I never told you. You can never see me for lunch.”

  “But Delia works in my building. We don’t sit together and eat lunch. We walk to the cafeteria or the deli to grab something. Max—it’s twenty minutes round trip, and she and I both eat at our respective desks.” Was she actually justifying the time she spent with Delia? Casey had intentionally left out that at least once a month they met for a quick drink on the Wednesday nights before her millinery classes at FIT. It was a hoot because when she went to a bar with Delia, men sent them cocktails and business cards. Delia was the master of the quick bar kill—after she was done, carcasses littered the beer-stained floors. Casey had to admit that it was fascinating to witness a pro in play.

  “I’ll never speak to her again. Is that what you want?” Casey meant this even though that wasn’t what she wanted. Regardless, Ella deserved that much.

  “Does she have a nice personality? Is she independent? Like you?” Ella peered at Casey’s face with pure wonder, as if a woman with enough compelling qualities would excuse what Ted had done.

  “You’re wonderful, Ella. Don’t do this to yourself. Delia is irrelevant. Ted did this.”

  “I love him. But I hate him, too.”

  “Yes.” The two sorority girls surfaced in Casey’s mind. “You must.”

  “I have never loved anyone else but Ted.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want him to leave me. How will I raise my daughter?” Ella was wide awake, her round face full of worry. She was breathing strangely.

  “Ella, are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me know if you want me to call the doctor. Your blood pressure. . .” Casey tried to sound as relaxed as possible.

  “I know, I know,” Ella said plaintively. She tried to imagine her daughter’s perfect infant body, fingers curling and opening. Her chest rose and fell at a more even pace.

  Casey turned to the front door reflexively. “Where is that bastard, anyway? When’s he getting home?”

  “He went to a managing directors’ off-site in Singapore. It was planned months and months ago. He’s not coming home until Thursday night. My dad’s coming later, and he’s going to stay in the guest room.” Ella blinked. “Do you think he’s with her?”

  What a selfish fuckhead, Casey thought. His wife was about to deliver, and he’d dumped her off with her dad. Fucking brilliant.

  “He said he didn’t want to go. Especially right now.. . . Maybe he took her with him,” Ella wondered out loud.

  Casey had no intention of defending that son of a bitch, but it wasn’t helpful for her to get a pregnant woman with high blood pressure riled up.

  “Honey, Ted doesn’t matter. You matter. Your baby matters.” Casey stroked her friend’s hair.

  Ella closed her dark eyes—the rush of blood still pounding in her ears.

  From the living room, Casey phoned Judith, whom she hadn’t had time to call to explain. But there was no answer. She phoned Sabine’s direct dial.

  “It better be good,” Sabine said as a greeting.

  When Casey told her what had happened, Sabine’s response was eerily cold.

  “It’s nice of you, but this is ultimately Ella’s problem,” she said. “Besides, you can’t fix that one. Too big.” She categorized problems relationally—a knoll or Mount Everest. She also quantified the length of time projected to climb her challenges. “And thanks a lot. Judith thinks I’m playing favorites. You disrespected her. And I can’t have that.” Sabine abhorred insubordination of any variety.

  “I’m sorry, Sabine. I shouldn’t have just left, but I couldn’t very well explain to Judith while Ella was standing right there. I wasn’t trying to disrespect my manager. I’m not like that—”

  “You’ve never even mentioned her,” Sabine interrupted, voicing an entirely separate strand of argument. “It’s not like she’s a close friend.”

  “No. You’re wrong. She’s a very good friend.” But there was no way for Sabine to have known this. Casey revealed very little of what went on in her life. And when there were difficulties, she burrowed into herself and tried to give a good show. The bit of Casey’s heart that Sabine had managed to soften earlier—through Sabine’s attentiveness and strong wish for her to do well in life—calcified again. Nothing kind or good came without expectations or demands. She checked the time. The new watch felt heavier on her wrist than her Timex. It was only three.

  “Let me think about this,” Sabine said. Her shrink had encouraged her to delay making decisions to curb her impulsive tendencies.

  “Yeah,” Casey muttered. “Do what you need to do.”

  “Don’t get pissy with me, young lady,” Sabine shot instantly.

  “I’m sorry,” Casey replied, catching herself.

  Ella woke up, and she shuffled out to the living room. How long had she slept? For the past twenty-four hours, she’d thought about leaving Ted. But the consequences of such a thing—how could she manage? She wanted to see her father, to ask him for advice, but she didn’t know how. What he’d said to her right before the wedding ceremony—the words had never left her mind. Perhaps she should’ve waited. There was no way she could tell her father what had happened. He’d hate Ted. Had they married too young? Was there something wrong with her in bed? That morning, she’d considered getting a video or some books. How did you get better in bed? How did you keep your husband interested in you? Her head hurt so much. The ringing in her ears had made it impossible for her to rest.

  Ella stretched out on the sofa, desperate for some comfort. “Who was that?”

  Casey glanced at the cordless phone in her hand. “No one.”

  “Was it Ted?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have herpes?” Ella asked.

  “Wow. Where did the reticent Wellesley girl go?”

  Using both hands, Ella pulled a pillow over her head. Her suffering was evident.

  “No, I don’t have herpes.” Ella’s face went from pained to disappointed. “Sorry. But I had gonorrhea once. Does that make you feel better? My roommate had syphilis and a lousy case of genital warts, which had to be burned off. Another girl in my dorm got crabs. These things always seem like a bigger deal at the time. People should really get over the shame. Scientifically, it’s more like the flu or mono, right?” Casey believed what she just said, but she’d never actually told anyone about having had a venereal disease.

  “They’re curable. Those—”

  “Yeah. I also had an abortion. So pregnancy, it turns out, is curable as well.” Casey shrugged, hating it when people had to compare problems. A truly unwinnable tack in life. Did Ella want her to list more embarrassing things so she wouldn’t feel like the only one with rotten luck? Because if she did, Casey could oblige her easily. “What else do you want to know?”

  Ella nodded thoughtfully. She had annoyed Casey. “I just can’t leave Ted. I made this vow. God hates divorce. That’s what Christ says in the Gospels.”

  “Okay. But Ted fucked somebody else and gave you the parting gift. I think there are a few escape clauses in the Bible. Adultery is the biggie.” Casey
was tempted to check, but she was fairly sure that the get-out-of-jail-free card could be found in Matthew.

  “But you’re supposed to forgive again and again. And he has repented.”

  “Ah. A lovely idea, and I’ll remind you the next time I screw up.”

  Ella didn’t laugh. She looked as if she were thinking very hard. “If I left him, where would I live? I don’t even have a job.”

  “For a while you can stay with your dad. You can stay with me. I like kids. After a while, you’ll be able to take care of you and the baby. Wait, you can stay here and make Ted get out. Why do you have to go?”

  “To go from my husband’s house to my father’s house. What have I done?” There was outrage in Ella’s voice, as if it weren’t fair. “I majored in art history, got married, worked in development for two years. My husband got bored with me in bed after eighteen months. No, it must have been much, much less than that. Five months? Six? Oh, my God. He cheated with a woman everyone else has slept with at Kearn Davis. Why? And he gave me herpes. You know, I only had sex with one man.”

  Casey heard the indignation, and it irritated her. “Even if you had sex with fifty people, no one deserves to get sick, Ella. Sexual encounters should not involve discipline. I just find that hard to take. Would it be better if I got herpes? I had sex with more than one man, and I hope to have more sex. With more men. What would that prove if I got some STD? I don’t know. I’m sorry Ted did this. And I’m very sorry you have herpes. But herpes is supposed to be one of those chronic things without much effect, anyway, I think—”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Ella was frustrated, having expected more sympathy. “Never mind.” But it did feel like some sort of unwarranted punishment. “I’m just pathetic. I feel like I should at least be sexy if I’m going to have this thing. Like more notches in my belt. My life. . .” Ella exhaled. “I did things wrong, or I didn’t do enough things. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Ella! You’re not even twenty-five. It’s not quite over, you know. I’d hang on to the towel if I were you.” Casey stared hard at Ella’s face, wanting her to pay attention.

  The building intercom buzzed, and Casey jumped up.

  “It’s your father,” she said. “He’s coming up.”

  Ella’s lower lip moved slightly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t tell him.” Ella wiped her eyes with her hands.

  “You want me to stay? For a little while?”

  “No. You have to get back. Thank you, Casey.” Ella nodded to keep from crying. “Thank you for—”

  “Hush. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ll be good.” Ella tried to smile.

  “I know.”

  Casey took the subway down to the store. At the hat counter, she found Sabine and Judith speaking intimately. Neither seemed upset.

  “Ah, the prodigal daughter has returned,” Sabine remarked without much humor.

  “I’m really sorry. For leaving like that.” Casey then told them what she could about Ted, Ella’s medical issues, and how Ella’s mother had died in childbirth.

  “Oh,” Judith replied. What could she say?

  “Anyway, I made a decision,” Sabine said proudly, ready to dust her hands off of this event. She had a very strong need for closure. She turned to Judith. “Just knock the hours off her time sheet. Obviously starting from when she left and add back in her break time, which she’s entitled to spend however or with whomever she wants.”

  Sabine straightened up to leave. Casey was supposed to have stopped by for cheesecake but had failed to call her about it. At two-thirty, when Casey usually took her break, Sabine had phoned Judith to ask where Casey was. That was when Judith had informed her that Casey had stormed off her post with a friend without giving any explanation.

  Casey tried not to shake her head, unable to believe Sabine’s docking bullshit. Sabine had given her a watch worth thousands of dollars, and she was quibbling about maybe fifty bucks. It was insane.

  “But she ran over her break time last week, too. She owes twenty minutes,” Judith said with a tinge of satisfaction.

  “Thanks, Judith. You’re a brick,” Casey said. This used to be one of Jay’s favorite expressions. “Really so helpful.”

  Sabine, who was about to step away, turned back instantly. “Listen, Casey, mind your manners. You cannot behave this way in front of me, your supervisor, or any customers.”

  Casey cocked her head. There were no customers near the counter.

  “Do you understand? You can’t get upset at Judith because she didn’t cover for you. That isn’t her job. That’s not what I pay her to do.”

  “Don’t yell at me,” Casey said quietly.

  “I will correct my employees when and how I deem necessary,” Sabine said. At the word employee, Casey’s jawline went from its natural curve to a bony hardness.

  Judith considered mentioning that Casey’s friend did sound a little bonkers but didn’t know how to bring it up now.

  A pair of elderly women stopped by the counter to admire the boaters trimmed with fabric roses. They looked like twin sisters, somewhere in their late eighties or nineties, spry and impeccably turned out in Mainbocher-style suits.

  Judith opened her mouth, but Sabine cut her off. “Judith, take last week’s break time off, too. I never want to hear about you letting her borrow against her break time. This credit issue is something Casey needs to fix.”

  Judith said yes, then switched to serve the older women, who now stood before her.

  Casey’s neck flushed scarlet.

  “And you. . .” Sabine faced Casey, trying to smile at her. Her voice grew gentle. “Stop by my office today after work.”

  “Sorry. Can’t do it. Tina will be here after work. I haven’t seen her in over a year.” Casey had missed her MIT graduation. She wouldn’t keep Tina waiting. “Tell me whatever it is you want to now.” She wasn’t the least bit ashamed of her behavior that afternoon. If Sabine wanted to fire her, take back the offer to pay for B school, have her return the watch, Casey didn’t give a rat’s ass. She’d grown up without Rolexes—her friendships were not negotiable for legal tender or gifts. Casey refused to make eye contact. The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew. “I said I was sorry, Sabine. You know I wouldn’t have left unless it was urgent. Ella had a genuine crisis.”

  Sabine didn’t know whether to be insulted or impressed by the girl’s fantastic nerve. “But you have a job, Casey Han. Work comes first.” She felt she had to teach Casey an essential lesson in business: “Everyone, sweetheart, can be replaced.”

  “Fine.” Casey shrugged. Replace me was on the tip of her tongue.

  Sabine took a long breath and touched Casey’s forearm. How could she break into the girl’s glassy gaze?

  “I’m not here tomorrow. Let’s talk next week. When all of this will seem foolish.” Sabine smiled at her again. “Okay, Casey? Everything all right?. . . Casey?”

  “Yup.” Casey smiled back at her boss.

  As she walked away, Sabine turned once. Casey’s body had grown rigid and tall, like a cornstalk. She could be heard asking one of the two women if there was something she’d like to try on.

  Until closing time, Judith and Casey worked alongside each other, giving off the air that all was cheery at the hat counter. Neither spoke to the other, however, when there were no customers.

  The interview for a summer research fellowship at Einstein had gone overtime, so Tina never showed up at the store. Casey had gone home, and Tina finally arrived there an hour and a half after they were supposed to have met.

  Casey let her in. Tina had never been so late, but even that was okay. It felt so good to see her. The sisters hugged each other—neither able to remember the last time they’d embraced.

  “What’s that noise?” Tina asked, looking around.

  “Oh!” Casey dashed back to her sewing machine to turn it off. The industrial-built secondhand Singer she’d bought in Chinatow
n for seventy-five bucks worked perfectly but made an intense whirring racket when it was on.

  Tina dropped her coat and handbag on a nearby folding chair. “Wow,” she said, taking it all in. The apartment was more spartan than she’d imagined, with only the most essential furniture.

  In one corner of the L-shaped studio, there was a full-size futon mattress, and beside it, three stacks of books were piled on the floor. A Sony Dream Machine clock-radio sat on top of a copy of Sister Carrie. A naked extension cord snaked out from the base of the brass floor lamp. Near the window with a partial view of the Hudson and Jersey City, there were two different-looking sewing machines, including the one Casey had just shut off, a stumpy wooden stool, and opposite the Pullman kitchen was a white metal café table and two folding chairs. The closet—large by New York standards, almost the width of one of the shorter walls, with its shutter-style doors thrown open—was bursting with colorful clothes. On the bottom of the closet, multiple pairs of shoes and boots were strewn about—mismatched and their mates far apart. Dozens of hatboxes attached with Polaroids of their contents dominated the apartment. No sofa, coffee table, bookshelves, or rugs.

  “What are you making?” Tina asked, her manner curious and thoughtful. She squinted at the sewing machine.

  “I’m entering a contest.” There was a juried exhibit for accessories at FIT, and she and Roni, the cheese seller, were entering as a team. They had designed a collapsible straw hat and matching handbag with a special compartment for the hat.

  “Contest?”

  “I know. It’s weird.”

  Tina raised her eyebrows and shoulders simultaneously. Not much surprised her anymore when it came to Casey.

  “Hey, I’m starving.”

  “The food’s on its way.” Casey had ordered the pizza right after Tina called from the station. Her sister wore a blue crewneck sweater and navy slacks. Her hair was cut in a blunt style, giving it more movement. She’d taken off her snow boots on the floor, and with her legs splayed out, she wriggled her toes in shabby black socks. The Einstein interview had gone well, and she’d accepted an on-the-spot offer.