After her father’s death, Ellie’s mother had insisted they go to the cemetery every Christmas, Easter, and on her father’s birthday. Daniel hated to go—“He was stupid enough to get himself killed working for that damned mill,” he used to mutter, but only so Ellie could hear. “I’m never working in those mills.” But he trudged along, sullen and resentful, with Ellie clinging to his hand as their mother tenderly laid flowers and cleaned the gravesite of any leaves or fallen branches from nearby trees. After Daniel was in Vietnam and Ellie’s mother got too sick to go, sometimes Ellie had to go alone. “Bring him flowers,” her mom had begged. “I don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten him.” Ellie had looked into her mother’s eyes, luminous in her wasted face, and wanted to ask, “If he’s in heaven, the way everyone says, why are we still acting like he’s there in the graveyard?” But she could never bring herself to say the words. Before long, it wasn’t one grave she was going to visit, but two.
Following the tracks of the cars that had recently wound along the paths through the cemetery, Ellie made her way first to her father’s burial site. A little bit of snow had clung to the granite, like frosting. She brushed it away, taking care not to disturb the snow over the grave. Michael Ryan, Beloved Husband and Father.
Ellie unwrapped one of the bouquets and laid the flowers against the headstone. “Here are your flowers, Dad. I’m a few days late, but I’m here.”
The only sound was the occasional soft plop of a clump of snow falling from a tree and the chattering of a few squirrels. She stood there a while, and then said, “I’ll be back to see you again soon.”
From there, she walked to her mother’s grave. “Can’t they be buried together?” Ellie had begged when her mother’s arrangements had had to be made, but the cemetery man insisted that there were no available gravesites near her father, and unless she could afford to buy two sites and have her father’s remains moved, they would have to be in separate places. That stone, too, had some snow clinging to it. She brushed it clean and set the second bunch of flowers against it. Ellen Ryan. Nothing else. Just her dates of birth and death. There hadn’t been enough money to have anything else carved on the stone. Ellie had been named for her. Everyone always thought Ellie was short for Eleanor, but “Ellie is my name,” she had insisted over and over to teachers and principals who tried to convince her that no one was named just Ellie.
She opened her mouth to speak, but sudden tears choked off the words. It was always harder to visit her mom. Things had been hard after her dad died, but they had managed. It had been so much harder when Ellen got sick, and then Daniel got drafted. Why? Ellie covered her face and cried. She knew it made no sense to ask that, but sometimes… sometimes she just felt so alone. She wiped her cheeks with her mittens, but the cold air chapped the damp skin, leaving her cheeks red and raw.
“I’ve met someone,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you’d feel about it. I think you’d like her.” Ellie closed her eyes. “I hope you’d like her.”
Sniffling, she stood up and made her way back through the silent cemetery toward the nearest bus stop.
Teresa stomped the snow off her boots and knocked on the back door before turning the knob. “Anyone home?” she called as she entered.
“Teresa!” cried Bernie’s mother, standing at the sink in her robe and slippers. She was even smaller than Bernie—“which makes me look like a giant when I come over here,” Teresa used to lament as she continued to shoot up during junior high and high school to her current height.
“Hey, Mrs. D’Armelio,” Teresa said. “I brought some of Mrs. Schiavo’s doughnuts.”
“My favorites,” said Mrs. D’Armelio. “Thank you.” She took one from the box Teresa held out.
“Is Bernie up yet?”
Mrs. D’Armelio cackled. “Are you kidding? On Christmas break? She doesn’t get up until noon.” She scuffed to the base of the stairs and called, “Bernie! Teresa’s here. Come on down.”
Teresa poured herself a cup of coffee and reached for a doughnut. “Good Christmas?”
Mrs. D’Armelio refilled her own coffee cup and joined Teresa at the table. “Could have been better. You know Denny didn’t come home this year.”
Teresa nodded. “Bernie told me. Did he call?”
Mrs. D’Armelio snorted. “For about five minutes. He doesn’t come home since the summer, and he can’t spare more than five minutes to talk to us?” She dunked her doughnut in her coffee and took a bite.
Teresa chewed thoughtfully on her own doughnut. “Do you mind he went away?”
“No,” said Mrs. D’Armelio. “He had to. There’s no future for him here in Pittsburgh. I could stand him living somewhere else, but he never comes home to visit. That’s the hard part.”
“Hey,” said Bernie sleepily, coming into the kitchen in her nightshirt, her hair tousled and sticking up on one side.
“Put some clothes on!” Mrs. D’Armelio said, scandalized.
“What? It’s only Bennie.”
Teresa grinned. “After all the times we slept over at each other’s house, I’ve seen her in her nightshirt more than I’ve seen her in clothes.”
Mrs. D’Armelio gave an impatient cluck. Turning back to Teresa, she asked, “Your mother and father are good?”
“Both good. Ma’s more impatient than Francesca for the new baby to be born.”
“Your mother is lucky. What I wouldn’t give for some grandchildren,” Mrs. D’Armelio said pointedly.
Bernie rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette. “Not gonna happen, Mom. I teach the little bastards all day long. Why would I want to come home to them? With or without a husband.”
Teresa laughed. This argument had been going on for the past fifteen years, and she knew it would continue until the day one of them died.
Mrs. D’Armelio got up and shuffled out of the kitchen. Teresa waited until they heard the vacuum cleaner roar to life in the living room.
“So, did you see Tom?”
Bernie exhaled and nodded. “We got together Christmas evening, after they got home from his in-laws.”
Teresa knew “getting together” meant sex in Tom’s car in some back alley somewhere—a thought she never wanted to contemplate in any detail, but now, after what she’d been feeling for Ellie, she had more sympathy for how powerful that drive could be.
“What about you?”
Teresa looked up to see Bernie watching her closely. “I invited Ellie to spend Christmas with us,” she said casually.
For days, she’d been debating whether to say anything, but there was too big a chance Sylvia or someone else might say something, and if Bernie found out about Ellie from anyone else, she would hound Teresa to death over it. Besides, Teresa argued with herself, maybe her reaction won’t be bad. Maybe, you’ll be able to tell her the truth…someday.
“What the fuck?”
Okay, maybe not. Teresa shrugged. “She’s all alone. I just thought she might like to spend the holiday with people. It’s not like one more mattered at the aunts’ house.”
“You took her home for Christmas? And you act like that’s not a fucking big deal? What, are you thinking about marrying her or something?” Bernie sat with her cigarette suspended an inch from her lips as she watched Teresa’s face.
Teresa cursed herself as she felt the heat rise up her neck to her cheeks.
“Oh, my God!” Bernie hissed. She ground out her cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“What?” Teresa forced herself to meet Bernie’s incredulous gaze.
“Are you…are you queer? Is that why you’ve never dated anyone?” Bernie whispered.
“No!” Teresa felt her face burn even hotter at the lie. “She’s just lonely. Why can’t I be nice to someone without you turning it into something nasty?”
Bernie sat back and lit anothe
r cigarette. “Because I know you, Bennie. You like this girl. I’ve seen it before, when we were young, but not like this. You want to screw her—or whatever two women do together.”
Teresa’s nostrils flared. “Like you should talk?” she whispered back. “You, the paragon of virtue? How many years have I listened to you moan and cry about how worthless you feel, screwing your married boyfriend in the back seat of his car whenever he feels like leaving his wife and kids to fuck you?”
Bernie’s face went white with anger, but before she could respond, Teresa pushed to her feet and stormed from the house, tears stinging her eyes. Her heels slammed into the pavement with every step as she walked home. She’d been an idiot to think Bernie would understand. That anyone would understand. She laughed mirthlessly at her fantasy hopes that somehow, her family might accept Ellie.
“It’s never going to happen,” she muttered, wiping tears from her cheeks.
But if it didn’t, what then?
Can you make a choice?
It won’t come to that.
But if it does?
Teresa couldn’t face that thought. How could she choose between Ellie and her family? It was like asking her to choose between her heart or her lungs. How could she live without either?
She walked blindly. She didn’t want to go home and she sure as hell didn’t want to be at the store on her only day off. She found herself standing in front of St. Rafael’s. Climbing the steps, she pulled open the heavy oak door and entered the empty sanctuary. Without the overhead lights, the church’s interior was lit only by the sunlight coming through the southern-facing stained glass windows and by a few candles. The nave was still decorated for Christmas, with a wall of poinsettias creating a backdrop for the Nativity.
Teresa went to the alcove dedicated to Our Lady and, dropping a couple of quarters in the coin box, lit a votive candle. She knelt at the prie-dieu and tried to pray, but couldn’t. “What do I ask for?” she whispered.
She listened, but there was only silence.
CHAPTER 17
Ellie rushed home and changed out of her bank clothes into jeans and her favorite sweater. “Come on, little one,” she said to KC. “Let’s get you fed before she gets here.” She jumped at a rap on the door as she scooped some wet food into a bowl, but the knock came from the living room. Groaning, Ellie set the bowl down for KC and went to answer the door.
“Hey there,” Sullivan said, bounding in as soon as the door opened. “I thought we could spend another worthless New Year’s Eve together.” He held up a grocery bag in one hand. “I bought munchies and beer.” From behind his back, he produced a small box. “And look! I got a Betamax machine for Christmas. We can watch Phantasm!”
“Oh, Sullivan, I’m sorry,” she said, “but I have plans.”
He stared at her with a lop-sided grin on his face. “No, you don’t. You and I never have plans for New Year’s. We are our plans.”
She grimaced apologetically. “Not this year. I really do have plans. I’m going out.”
“Really?” He looked crestfallen. “Oh, well. Guess I’ll watch Phantasm by myself.” He looked at the grocery bag. “If I have a hangover tomorrow, it’s all your fault.”
“It would be your fault whether I was there or not,” Ellie said, laughing. “I don’t drink beer, remember?” She glanced at her watch. “Gotta go. See you later.”
“Have a good time,” he said as he slouched back across the hall to his apartment.
Ellie locked the door and hurried back to the kitchen. “Be good, little one,” she said to KC, who was cleaning her whiskers. “Not sure when I’ll be back.”
She ran down the stairs, yanking her coat on as she went. She smiled when she saw the VW pulling up to the curb.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly as she got into the passenger seat.
Teresa turned to her. “Hi.”
For a long moment, they sat looking at each other before Ellie cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “We probably should move.”
“Okay,” said Teresa. “But you never said where we’re going.”
“Driver, take us to Station Square.”
Teresa glanced at her as she put the car in gear. “Station Square? Did you make dinner reservations?”
Ellie grinned mischievously. “You’ll see.”
“All right,” Teresa said, pulling away from the curb. She wove her way toward their destination. “I’m really glad you called.”
Ellie turned to her. “Tell me what you normally do on New Year’s.”
“The usual. Go down to the aunts’ house. Eat. Wait until midnight when everyone goes outside to bang pans and make a lot of noise. Go home and sleep.” She shook her head. “Same thing I’ve done every New Year of my life.”
“It sounds wonderful. Sorry. You must get tired of hearing me say that every time you talk about your family.”
Teresa shook her head. “No. Don’t be sorry. It’s made me appreciate my family more. I really do love them, although I may not have conveyed those sentiments to you.” Ellie smiled, and Teresa said, “It’s just like anything else, I guess. When they’re close, always there, you just don’t see. We did have a Christmas miracle I haven’t told you about.”
“What?”
“My dad gave me a raise. First one I’ve had since I started working for him after pharmacy school.”
“Oh, Teresa,” Ellie said, laying her hand on Teresa’s arm. “That’s wonderful. Isn’t it?”
Teresa glanced over quickly. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Ellie began, suddenly feeling she was walking on shaky ground. She pulled her hand away. “When we had dinner with Rob and Karen, it sounded as if you were trying to find a way to break free of the store. Rob was giving you advice on how to look for another job. Has that changed?”
Teresa considered it. “I don’t know. The main reason I got angry was because I felt like they took me for granted. I work my butt off, and my brother gets away with doing so much less.”
“From what I’ve seen of your brother, that’s never going to change,” Ellie said flatly. “I think the thing you need to do is figure out how happy you can be, working your butt off, because I don’t see you doing things any differently. Not while you’re there. You could work for someone else and maybe do less, just work your hours and leave. But if you stay with your dad’s store, you have to accept that some things won’t change. You have to decide what you can live with and what you can’t.”
Teresa chewed her lip as she thought about what Ellie had said. “I guess you’re right. Maybe they sensed how close I’ve been to walking out.”
“So the raise will keep you there?”
“For a while.” Teresa downshifted as she braked for a red light. “I don’t feel like I can leave now.”
“Then it worked,” Ellie said.
“Do you think I shouldn’t stay?” Teresa asked.
“No,” Ellie said quickly. “Not at all. Like I said, I think you need to figure out what will make you happy. Maybe you like working seventy hours a week, and the challenge of making the store successful. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Except—” Teresa stopped abruptly as she put the car in gear again.
“What?”
“The reason I work seventy hours a week is because I have nothing else to do. Nowhere I’d rather be. At least, I didn’t.” She glanced in Ellie’s direction. “But that’s changed.”
“It has?”
Teresa nodded. Ellie laid a hand on Teresa’s thigh. When Teresa didn’t react, she started to pull away, but Teresa caught her hand and pressed it to her thigh again.
“Did you leave dinner for Dogman and Lucy tonight?” Ellie asked.
Teresa smiled. “Yes. Before I came to pick you up.” She turned left. “What do you usually do for New Year’s Eve?”
“We could have invited him,” Teresa said wryly.
“No.” Ellie laughed. “I don’t feel that bad. I want this time with you. Alone.”
Teresa turned to her, her eyes shining. “Me, too.”
A loud growl suddenly filled the car over the chug of the VW’s engine.
“We are going to eat, right?” Teresa asked, rubbing her stomach.
Ellie sat back. “Yes, we are going to eat.”
“And then?”
“You’ll see,” Ellie said.
Teresa found a parking space near Station Square and Ellie led the way.
“I haven’t been down here in ages,” Teresa said, looking around as they walked.
“Me, either,” Ellie said.
They entered a well-lit restaurant. The hostess checked their coats and took them to their table.
“That’s a beautiful sweater,” Teresa noted as Ellie placed her napkin on her lap. She looked closely at the cable pattern knitted into the body of the sweater. “Is it Irish?”
“In a way,” Ellie said. “My mom made it for me.”
“Really? The green looks nice against your eyes.”
Ellie felt a flush creep up her neck at the compliment. She picked up her menu. Their waiter came to take their drink order. He was back in a moment with their wine and took their dinner order. “We have live music tonight as well,” he said, indicating a small stage set up in one corner of the dining room.
“Tell me more about your mother,” Teresa prompted when he left.
Ellie twirled the stem of her wine glass in her fingers as she thought. “When I was little, I remember her and my dad dancing and kissing a lot.” She smiled, her eyes focused on the past. “Then, they would grab Daniel and me and dance with us. I knew how to waltz before I could ride a bike. We used to laugh a lot.” Her smile faded. “After Dad died, we had a little money every month from his steelworker’s pension, but Mom had to go back to work as a schoolteacher. It let her be home with us more than any other job, but it didn’t pay much.” Ellie paused, remembering. “She was pretty. Small, with long auburn hair. I look more like my dad, I think.”
Cast Me Gently Page 17
