“Wait,” she said as Dogman called to Lucy. He turned to her. “I…” Now that she was face to face with him, his face expressionless except for those eyes—why is that the only part I can ever remember?—she wasn’t sure what to say. She held out the coat. “I thought maybe you could use this, now that it’s really cold.” When he just stood there, looking at her, not the coat, she added, “It was my dad’s. It was in a bag for the Salvation Army. I just thought…” She held it to him again, and this time he took it. “And,” she reached back into the car. “I have this for Lucy. To keep her warm at night.” She offered the woolen throw that Ellie had used. Wordlessly, Dogman accepted this also, then turned and limped on down the alley with Lucy beside him.
Teresa watched them for a moment, then closed up the car and worked the key into the lock of the back security grate. She had to wrestle the frozen links before they slid open. Once inside, she rummaged through the storage closet, looking for the snow shovel. She quickly shoveled a clear space for her mother to park. She looked down the alley, but Dogman and Lucy were gone. She couldn’t have said what it was that made her feel a connection to them. She’d never felt like this about any of the other homeless or out-of-work people she saw every day—and there were lots of them lately—but, there’s just something about the two of them, and it had something to do with Ellie. She paused her shoveling, enjoying the secret thrill she felt every time she thought of Ellie. She always remembered that the first day she had seen Dogman was the day she met Ellie. For some reason the two things were connected in her mind. And now, it was all tied up with that hug.
Teresa leaned on her shovel and closed her eyes. That hug. “Don’t be so stupid,” she’d told herself over and over, but… other than hugs from Aunt Anita every now and again, that was the first hug she’d had from anyone since she was a child. Her parents weren’t huggers, nor were her siblings. She’d never been kissed—not really kissed—never been held, never had a boyfriend, had never been… intimate with anyone.
She felt her face grow hot and knew it had nothing to do with the exertion of shoveling. Every night for the past two weeks, she’d fallen asleep smiling and remembering the feel of Ellie’s arms around her. How could something so simple be such a huge thing? She’d avoided going back to the bank, certain she’d make an idiot of herself again, but that didn’t keep her thoughts from turning to Ellie at the most unexpected—and inconvenient—times, like yesterday when she’d been in the middle of counting pills for a prescription, and had to start over because she found herself standing there, daydreaming, with no recollection of how many pills she’d counted.
Part of it was every horrible thing Ellie had been through. It broke Teresa’s heart to think about it, and she wanted to hold Ellie and try to make it better, but “you can’t make any of it better,” she reminded herself again and again. “It happened—her parents, her brother, all of it,” but there was still something so vulnerable about Ellie, something that made Teresa feel protective and… tender. It was such a new feeling that she didn’t recognize it at first. “Teresa is tall, she can reach it” or “Teresa’s strong, she can do it”—those were the kind of things she was used to being needed for. Her family relied on her, even if they also forgot about her, but with Ellie, she felt different. It was as if she were being molded into a new shape, a new Teresa – just by knowing her. Ellie had a way of turning her inside out, seeing the bits of her that no one else had ever seen.
But she knew better than to try and talk about this to anyone, not even Bernie. For years, she’d listened to Bernie talk about Tom, cry over him, scream at him—and then watched as she went back to him time and again, but “this is different.” Teresa had a feeling no one else would understand, because she didn’t understand it herself.
“Teresa!”
She jumped, dropping her shovel. Mrs. Schiavo was waving at her. Teresa picked the shovel up out of the snow and went around to shovel the back entrance of the bakery. When she was done there, she went out front and shoveled the front walk of both the bakery and the drugstore. By the time she was finished, a small crowd had gathered. Mrs. Schiavo brought out her old bread and let Teresa hand it to the people waiting. They were more orderly with her. “Because I’m big enough to hit back,” Teresa joked. She scanned the street for any sign of Dogman and Lucy, but they were nowhere. When the bread had been given out, Mrs. Schiavo made Teresa come back inside, where she tried to give her a plate of cannoli.
“Mrs. Schiavo,” said Teresa. “Do I look like I need cannoli?”
Mrs. Schiavo cackled and waved her hand at such an absurd idea as anyone having too much cannoli. She shoved the plate into Teresa’s hand and Teresa went back around through the back door of the drug store, leaving the plate on her dad’s desk. “Not that he needs it, either,” she said, but she knew he’d eat it.
By the time Sylvia got to the store, snowplows had cleared paths down some of the streets and traffic was moving. She placed a mop behind the cash register.
“We’ll have to clean up after snowy shoes all day today,” she said. “I don’t want anyone slipping and suing us.”
“We could just close for today,” Teresa said from behind the pharmacy counter.
“What? And lose a whole day’s business?” Sylvia said.
The telephone rang, and Sylvia answered. Teresa could hear her end of the conversation and stopped what she was doing, listening with a scowl on her face.
“What?” she asked when her mother hung up.
“Gianni is stuck at Angelina’s. Your father is going to the Morningside store until Gianni can get there. He wants you to do the deposit and take it to the bank.”
“Stuck at Angelina’s my ass,” Teresa said under her breath. She finished the prescription she was working on and went to the office, still grumbling.
“What are you saying in there?” Sylvia asked.
Teresa didn’t answer for a moment as she got on her hands and knees, dialing the combination on the safe bolted to the floor under the desk. She lifted last night’s moneybag to the desk and brushed her knees off.
“I said, it’s a good thing one of us makes it to work.”
“Your brother always has a good reason if he doesn’t make it in,” Sylvia said.
“Yeah, right. I got out and shoveled this morning. Why can’t he get his butt out and shovel and scrape and get to work?”
“He will,” Sylvia said.
“Why do you always make excuses for him?”
“I’m not making excuses.” Sylvia’s voice sounded far away from inside the candy case.
“You are. If he worked for anyone else and didn’t show up at work, he’d be fired. But you and Pop just let him get away with it. And for not showing up to work, he gets paid more than I do. I haven’t had a raise since I got out of pharmacy school.”
“He’s a man,” Sylvia said. “He has to save up to take care of a wife and family. You just have yourself and you live with us. What do you need more pay for, huh?”
“Maybe I’m not always going to live with you and Pop.”
There was a very prickly silence that stretched on and on, and then Sylvia’s heels clicked on the floor as she came to the office. “So you’re thinking about moving out?”
Teresa shrugged. “Maybe.”
Sylvia threw her hands in the air. “Maybe you should.”
“Maybe I will,” Teresa shot back as her mother stalked away. Breathing heavily, she had to count the change five times before she got an accurate number. She threw the coins into the bag and marked the deposit slip. She finished counting the bills and checks and stuffed everything into the bag. She crammed her feet back into her boots, pulled a hat on, wrapped her scarf back around her neck, and donned her coat over top of the sling containing the moneybag.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she said as she stomped through the store. She didn’t look at
her mother and didn’t wait for a response.
Outside, the sidewalk was a checkerboard of untouched snow in front of some buildings interspersed with short lengths that had been shoveled. Traffic was moving sluggishly. She passed more than one car whose wheels were spinning, trying to maintain traction going up a hill. She was glad she’d decided to walk as her legs pumped along like pistons. She was soon breathing hard with the effort of walking through the snow, but the exertion felt good. It wasn’t long before she was away from the commercial section and walking past houses, most of them still quiet, the sidewalks untouched, as the city’s kids had been given a snow day and weren’t outside yet.
As Teresa walked, she muttered to herself, continuing her argument with her mother, until she passed two kids coming down their porch steps with a sled. They looked at her as if she were crazy.
She chuckled. “Yes, I’m crazy.”
She got to an intersection and paused. Instead of continuing straight toward the bank, she crossed the street and headed toward her sister-in-law’s insurance office. The front windows looked dark as she approached, but when she stood in front of the building, she realized the glare of the snow outside masked the weak fluorescents burning inside. She pushed the door open.
Karen was at her desk, phone to her ear. She glanced up, looking harassed. When she saw Teresa standing there, she smiled and held up a finger as she took notes. “We’ll get someone out there as soon as we can to assess the damage. You stay safe, Mrs. Brezicki.”
Karen hung up the phone and took her reading glasses off, rubbing her temples. “I hate snow,” she moaned. “But I love seeing you.” She got up from the desk. Even on a day like this, she looked great, her slim figure shown to its advantage in a pantsuit, her blonde hair perfectly done—oh, God, what will mine look like when I take this hat off? Teresa suddenly wondered.
“Want some coffee?” Karen was saying. “You must be freezing. I can’t believe you walked here.”
Teresa stood on the mat inside the front door, stomping her snowy boots as she unwound her scarf from around her neck and flapped her coat. “Some coffee would be great in a minute, but your walk isn’t cleared.”
“I’m the only one to make it in so far,” Karen said with a fake smile. “The phone has been ringing since I got here, and none of the men have dug their cars out.”
Teresa glared at her. “Sounds familiar.” She rewrapped her scarf and buttoned her coat. Reaching for the shovel leaning against the wall, she said, “Have that coffee ready for me. Be back in a jiff.”
Several minutes later, she was back inside, stomping again as she took off her scarf and coat. “That should last you for a few hours unless it piles up out there.”
“Thank you so much,” Karen said, waving her over to a chair by the desk where a cup of steaming coffee was waiting.
Teresa held the cup in her two hands, letting the warmth soak in. “Oh, this feels good. Thanks.”
Karen sat back down behind the desk. “So what brings you down here?”
“I had to go to the bank,” Teresa said. “And I just had to get away from the store before I said something I would be sorry for.”
“What’s going on?”
Teresa didn’t answer immediately. She sipped her coffee, but just as she opened her mouth, the telephone rang.
“Sorry,” Karen said, picking up the phone. Teresa drank her coffee while Karen took down the details of yet another car damaged when someone else slid into it.
“That’s the third one this morning. Now,” Karen said a few minutes later as she hung up. “You were saying?”
Teresa shook her head. “I don’t even know what it is. I get up early to open the store, take care of whatever needs doing. I stay to close most nights. I have no life. Gianni goes in whenever he feels like it, leaves early to go to Angelina’s or out with his friends. He gets paid more than I do because he’s a man.” She stopped, feeling sudden tears sting her eyes. She never cried. She blinked down at her coffee cup as Karen watched her intently.
“It’s good to know some things in this world are constant, isn’t it?” Karen said.
Teresa hiccupped with laughter. “You’re right. It isn’t any different from what it’s always been.”
Karen sat back, still watching her. “Something’s different. Must be. Why is it bothering you now?”
“I don’t know,” Teresa said. “Maybe because it’s been going on for so long…” Her expression darkened. “I am in the exact same place I was ten years ago. And if my folks have their way, I’ll still be in that same place ten or twenty years from now.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, if it’s where you want to be,” Karen pointed out.
“I guess,” Teresa said. “I never questioned it before, but now… I feel restless. Like my life is just passing me by. Everyone my age is married and having kids. I don’t want that, but I watch my aunts, all single, all heavy and unhealthy. I don’t want that to be me, either.”
Karen smiled. “Well, Rob found a way to break away. Maybe you should talk to him. Why don’t you come over for dinner one night? How about Saturday?”
Teresa’s expression brightened. “That would be great.”
“Bring someone if you like,” Karen said.
Teresa felt her face get hot. She leaned over to retie the laces on her boots. “Maybe. I’ll see you Saturday. Six o’clock?”
“Six is good,” said Karen, walking her to the door. “Thanks for shoveling.” The telephone jangled again. “Gotta go. See you Saturday.”
Bundled up against the cold again, Teresa headed back out into the snow. Inside the bank, the lobby was deserted. All of the tellers looked up at her entrance. “Hi, Teresa,” came a chorus.
“I can help you here,” said Linda.
Teresa stepped to her window, avoiding looking at Ellie.
“Cold day for a walk.”
“Better than trying to drive in this,” Teresa said, struggling to extricate the moneybag from the sling under her coat. She got it out and plunked it down on the counter. While Linda counted the deposit, Teresa stole a look in Ellie’s direction, but she was busy doing something and didn’t look up.
“Here you go,” Linda said, handing the moneybag back. “The deposit slip is inside.”
“Thanks,” Teresa said. “See you soon.”
She went to the counter in the middle of the lobby where she stalled, taking her time getting the moneybag tucked back into the sling. Another customer came into the bank.
“Need some help?”
Teresa looked up to see Ellie standing there. She looked very pretty in a navy turtleneck. “Thanks, I think I’ve got it.” The other customer had stepped up to Linda’s window. Lowering her voice, Teresa said, “Are you doing anything Saturday evening?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, my sister-in-law asked me over to their house for dinner on Saturday, and I just wondered if you’d like to go. If you’re not busy.”
Ellie’s face lit up. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to meet your brother and sister-in-law.”
Teresa finished buttoning up her coat. “Great. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty?”
“Five-thirty. I look forward to it.”
Teresa didn’t remember much about the walk back to the drugstore. Her mind was occupied with the anticipation of spending Saturday evening with Ellie, and her heart was racing. She knew it had nothing to do with the exertion of walking.
“I wondered when you were going to get back.”
Teresa did a double take as she entered the store. Bernie was sitting at the counter, drinking a latte.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
Bernie twirled on her stool. “Snow day. Thought I’d come over here and hang out with you for a while.” She glanced over to where Sylvia was vigorously polishing the glass of the candy dis
play case, her back to them. She looked back at Teresa with a questioning expression.
Teresa jerked her head toward the back. Bernie slid down off her stool, carrying her latte back to the office where Teresa was peeling off layers.
“What in the hell is going on?” Bernie whispered. “Your mother’s been pissy since I got here.”
Teresa rolled her eyes. “I got mad because I got my butt down here early to shovel and open, and Gianni calls to say he’s going to be late over at Morningside. Do they yell at him? No. Do they do anything? No.”
Bernie held up her hands, sloshing her latte over the side of the cup. “So? That’s how it always is. Why is your mother so angry?”
Teresa grabbed a tissue and wiped up the spilled coffee. She closed the office door and sat down to unlace her boots. “I might have said some things.”
Bernie perched on the desk. “What things?”
“I’m sick and tired of Gianni getting paid more than me for not working.” Teresa sighed. “I said I might not always live with them.”
Bernie’s mouth opened and closed. “Holy shit! Are you moving out?”
“No,” said Teresa quickly. “I just… I want them to not take me for granted.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said it.”
“Don’t go feeling all guilty, Bennie.” Bernie took a sip of her latte. “You always do this. When you finally get fed up enough to say something, you feel guilty about it. They know this about you. They use it. To hell with them.”
Teresa looked up at her.
“I didn’t mean that,” Bernie said. “But, Jesus, you need to stand up for yourself and not feel bad about it.”
Teresa flung an arm toward the store. “That’s easy to say. Until you have to live with the silent treatment.”
Cast Me Gently Page 8
