Here Today

by Ann M. Martin

  The police. Ellie pictured the worried faces of her family, felt her father’s fear. She swallowed. What had she done? Maybe she should try to find a pay phone and call her family. But she didn’t want to leave her post.

  Ellie heard a door slam below, and she leaned over the railing to look down the stairwell. She saw nothing, but heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, then a key turning in a lock on the second floor, then another door closing.

  Half an hour later, Ellie had nearly decided to find a pay phone after all when she heard more footsteps on the stairs. These footsteps continued climbing until a head appeared at the top of the stairs opposite her. The head belonged to an old man, white hair in a crew cut that stood straight up from his scalp, his face pale and wrinkled. He grunted as he passed Ellie, then climbed the steps to the fourth floor.

  Ellie checked her watch for what seemed like the two thousandth time—5:52. She stood and stretched, stiff from sitting on the suitcase, and realized she heard footsteps on the stairs yet again. Ellie listened to the steps as they climbed to the second floor, and then the third. She watched the staircase, waiting for a head to appear as the old man’s had.

  The first thing she saw was a black velvet hair ribbon. Under it was lightly teased blond hair, then the top of a pair of sunglasses.

  Ellie leaped to her feet. “Doris!” she cried.

  Doris jumped, then gripped the banister to keep from falling. She let out a gasp. “Eleanor!” she exclaimed. “What on earth?”

  “Surprise!” said Ellie. “I’m here for a visit!”

  For just the smallest fraction of a second, Doris’s face registered surprise, alarm, and then dismay. “What?”

  “It’s—we’re having—it’s school vacation. You sent us your address, so I decided to visit. At first I wasn’t sure this was your apartment, because I didn’t see the Buick.”

  Doris set down the bag of groceries she was carrying. “What?” she said again. “The Buick? My friend Alex is keeping it for me. Eleanor, I can’t—you’re here—A visit? Well, that’s wonderful!”

  Doris opened her arms, and Ellie melted into them. She breathed in the scents of toilet water and hair spray and powder, and they masked the fishy odor and the old coffee and Maggie Paxton and Bad Things and slamming and stolen gym suits.

  “But—but how did you get here?” asked Doris. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Does your father know you’re here? You didn’t run away, did you?” Before Ellie could answer any of these questions, Doris went on, “Come inside, come inside. You can sit down and tell me everything.”

  Doris wrestled the door to 3B open and stepped through it with her groceries. Ellie followed, and found herself in a small dim room. It was lit by one window, through which she could see a pipe clinging to a cement wall. At the end of the room was a counter and behind that, a sink and a stove and a graying Amana refrigerator. The rest of the room was crowded by a couch, an armchair, a chest of drawers, a table, and two stools.

  “Wow,” said Ellie. “This is … great. What is it, the living room?”

  Doris laughed. “Hon, this is the apartment. The whole thing. Well, except for the bathroom. That’s through there.” Doris pointed to a doorway off the kitchen.

  “This is the entire apartment?” Ellie tried to keep her voice from wobbling or cracking. She knew that Doris was probably still getting established, but she had expected something bigger, especially now that Doris was on Broadway. How on earth were all the Dingmans going to live in this teeny space?

  “It’s just for now,” Doris said, as Ellie looked around. “This is just a starter place.” Ellie nodded. “Well, come on, Eleanor. Tell me everything! Tell me how you got here.”

  Ellie and Doris sat together on the couch, and Ellie leaned into her mother and tried to figure out how to tell her what she had done. Finally she drew in a breath, pulled away from Doris, and said, “Well, I didn’t exactly run away, but Dad doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “Eleanor—”

  “I just really needed to see you,” Ellie rushed on. And she told her mother the story of how she had traveled to New York City by herself.

  When Ellie was finished, Doris looked at her watch. “We better call your father,” she said. “He must be going crazy by now.”

  “I know,” said Ellie.

  “All right. Come on, then. Get your coat. The phone is half a block away, at the corner.”

  Ellie followed Doris out of the apartment, down the stairs, outside, and to a telephone booth. She knew she should be feeling meek, like Dorothy in Oz on her way to meet the Wizard. But now that Doris had shown up, Ellie was far too excited to feel meek, or even very worried.

  “How much change do you need to call Dad?” Ellie asked as they jammed themselves into the booth.

  “None. I’ll call him collect,” Doris replied, and dialed the operator. Ellie stood patiently, waiting for her mother to start explaining things to Mr. Dingman. Instead, Doris suddenly thrust the phone at Ellie and said, “Okay, it’s your dad. Tell him where you are.”

  Surprised, Ellie took the receiver and put it to her ear in time to hear her father say breathlessly, “Hello? Doris?”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Ellie? Is that you? I thought your mother was calling. Where are you?”

  Ellie paused. “Well, actually, I’m … in New York City.”

  “What? You’re where?”

  “In New York City. With Doris.”

  For a moment, Mr. Dingman said nothing. Then he asked quietly, “How did you get there?”

  “On a bus. I bought a ticket with my savings.”

  “After I told you you couldn’t go.”

  Ellie wet her lips. “Yes.”

  “Did your mother know you were coming?”

  “No. I, um, surprised her.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you want to talk to her? She’s right here,” Ellie said helpfully.

  “Put her on, please.”

  Ellie handed the phone back to Doris, and stood first on one foot, then the other as she waited to hear Doris’s end of the conversation. Mr. Dingman must have had a lot to say, because for more than a minute, Doris did nothing but listen. Idly, she twirled a lock of hair. She stared out the phone booth. She waved at a man who turned the corner onto the block. Then suddenly she burst out, “I did not know she was coming! It was a surprise to me, too…. Mm-hmm … mm-hmm…. Absolutely not. Well, not tonight, anyway. It would be much too late.” There was another long pause, and then Doris said, “This is my fault? How is this my fault? Tell me.” She put her hand on her hip. “You’re the one she ran away from. This doesn’t look very good for you, you know.”

  “I didn’t run away!” exclaimed Ellie.

  “Well, I know you need her there, but she’s here,” Doris continued. “Look, I don’t particularly want—” Doris broke off abruptly as she glanced down at Ellie. “Why don’t you let her stay here for a couple of days,” she continued more gently. “It sounds like she could use a break…. Albert and Marie? Well, I don’t know. I didn’t think about that.”

  Mr. Dingman’s voice on the other end of the line was so loud that Ellie clearly heard him say, “You never think!” Doris held the phone away from her ear and mouthed to Ellie, “Thanks a lot.”

  Ellie, trembling now, said, “Could I talk to him again, please?”

  “Be my guest.” Doris smacked the receiver into Ellie’s outstretched hand.

  “Dad?” said Ellie. “I just wanted to tell you that Holly didn’t know what I was going to do. She really didn’t. So she shouldn’t get into trouble. I told her I needed a break for a day. That was all. And Dad? I’m sorry about Albert and Marie. I had them all taken care of for today, but I didn’t think about the rest of the week.”

  Mr. Dingman’s sigh floated along the telephone wires with terrible weariness. “There’s a problem here, Ellie,” he replied. “But you know what? It isn’t yours and it isn’t you. It’s much bigger than you. Don
’t worry about Albert and Marie. They aren’t your responsibility. I’ll call the ladies. Maybe they can help out for a couple of days.”

  “Or maybe Holly can babysit. I’ll pay her. I still have a little money left over.”

  “Like I said, this isn’t your responsibility. Let me talk to Doris again, okay?”

  “Okay. ’Bye, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

  Ellie, ashamed, slumped against the side of the phone booth, stared at the sidewalk, and rolled two dimes around in her pocket while she waited for her mother to end the conversation, which she did with an angry “No problem!” and slammed the receiver into the cradle. Then she leaned her forehead against the phone, muttered “Crap,” and pounded the receiver into the cradle five more times.

  “I’m sorry, Doris, I’m sorry,” Ellie said, backing out of the booth.

  Doris closed her eyes, opened them, put a smile on her face, and said, “It’s okay. Never mind. Listen, I have to make one more call. Why don’t you go back to the apartment.” She dug in her purse. “Here’s the key. You know where to go, right? Make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” Ellie took the key and walked slowly along the block. Once, she looked over her shoulder at the phone booth, but she couldn’t see Doris, who was hidden by a large oak tree.

  Ellie trudged up the stairs to 3B and let herself inside. She flopped on the couch, but almost immediately jumped to her feet again, restless. She walked around and around the room, peering at everything. She didn’t see a bed and would have to ask Doris about that. She noted the chest of drawers, which she assumed were filled with Doris’s clothes. Spread across the top were Doris’s combs and sunglasses and assorted plastic jewelry, tiny bottles of this and that, a can of hair spray, and some coins that did not look like any money Ellie had ever seen. On the table was a stack of movie magazines.

  In the kitchen, Ellie peeked in the bag of groceries and saw that it contained a package of paper plates, a box of Kleenex, six cans of Fresca, and a box of saltines. Tacked to the walls of the kitchen were coupons and flyers and eight black-and-white snapshots of Doris with people Ellie had never seen before. Ellie took a look around the rest of the room for photos of her or Marie or Albert or their father, and for the Christmas cards that she and Marie had made and that Mr. Dingman had promised to mail to Doris, but she saw none of these things.

  “Doris?” Ellie said the moment she heard the door to the apartment open. “Where—”

  Before she could finish speaking, Doris exclaimed, “Fabulous news, Eleanor! Tonight you and I are going to go out to dinner with some of my showbiz friends.”

  “What?” Ellie stared at Doris. “Tonight? But I just got here.”

  “Well, I know, hon. But these friends are important to me. Don’t you want to meet them?”

  “Are they in the Broadway play with you?” Ellie asked tightly.

  Doris cleared her throat. “They’re … they’re just my good friends. But look, if it really matters to you, I’ll call them back and tell them I can’t come after all. I just have to run back down to the phone.”

  “No, don’t do that.” Ellie slumped sulkily onto the couch. “I don’t want you to change your plans.”

  “Really?” Doris brightened. “Great. I think you’ll have fun tonight. I know! We’ll get dressed up. Come on. You need to change out of those pants if we’re going to go to Café Lune.”

  Café Lune was a small, very dark restaurant not far from Doris’s apartment, with a bar that took up more than half the room. And Doris’s friends—there were four of them, two men and two women, none of them married—were crowded into a booth at the back. They greeted Doris heartily and Ellie vaguely. Then they ordered drinks and all began talking at once. Hardly any of them listened to the others. Ellie tried to listen to all of them. As far as she could tell, both of the women had once been showgirls, and one, Jo, was now working as a singing waitress in a large restaurant in Midtown, while the other, Tina, was looking for a job. One of the men, Alex, used to play a character named Todd on a soap opera and now worked in the mailroom of a publishing company, and the other, Paolo, had just auditioned for a revue. “It’s at the Centurion Theatre. That’s the smallest of the small,” he added for Ellie’s benefit. “But who cares. It’s a job.”

  While Paolo was talking, Alex was gazing at Ellie and trying to stab an olive in his glass with a toothpick. Suddenly he said, “So you’re really Doris’s daughter?”

  Ellie, who had been feeling sleepy, jerked her head up. “Me?” she said. “Well, yes.” She frowned.

  “Sorry,” Alex said, stabbing at the olive again. “It’s just that you look nothing like her.”

  “And also,” said Tina, “she never mentioned you before.”

  Ellie felt herself shrinking. She truly thought that she was growing smaller. Or that the bench on which she was seated was spreading away from her somehow, swallowing her.

  “Oh, now,” Doris said with a laugh.

  Ellie straightened up. She glared furiously at Doris, then turned back to Tina. “For your information,” she said, “Doris also has a son and another daughter.” She paused. “And a husband.”

  “Listen, kid, I’m sorry,” said Tina. “Maybe she mentioned you guys. I don’t know. Who can remember?”

  “Of course I mentioned them!” said Doris gaily.

  “Really?” Ellie said sweetly. “Did she also tell you that we all live up in Spectacle, and we’re waiting for Doris to start earning enough money so she can move us down here with her?”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “So you can what?” He hesitated, then said, “Eleanor, really, darling. You don’t look anything like your mother. There’s almost no resemblance. It’s uncanny.”

  “Yes, the lack of resemblance is uncanny,” said Paolo. He smiled to himself, then pulled a small spiral notebook out of his pocket and scribbled something on it with a Bic pen. “That’s a good line,” he murmured.

  “Are we almost done here?” Ellie asked Doris.

  “Why, Eleanor, we haven’t even ordered yet.”

  Ellie crossed her arms. “I don’t care.”

  “Eleanor,” said Doris. “This behavior strikes me as rude.”

  Ellie looked at her mother. “That sounds like a line from a play. Are you rehearsing, or is this real life?”

  “Eleanor, I’m not kidding. You are asking for it.” Doris glanced around the table at Tina and Jo and Paolo and Alex. She tried to laugh. “Don’t pay any attention to Eleanor. She’s just tired. She had a long day. Come on, let’s order dinner. You might as well eat, Eleanor. As soon as you’re done we’ll go home.”

  Eleanor Roosevelt Dingman rested her forehead in her hands. She wanted to cry.

  Ellie managed not to cry, but only just barely. When the waiter came to their table with his pad and pencil, she ordered a hamburger. Then she sat mutely while the grown-ups talked. Their chatter floated around her and over her and she was largely ignored.

  Oh, well, she said to herself, which made her think of Holly. And then for some reason she thought of the cheerful Mouseketeers, in particular of Annette with her dimples and her bright smile. What would Annette do if she were in Ellie’s place? She would make the best of it, Ellie decided. She would tell herself that she was in New York City! She was eating dinner in a restaurant—late at night! She was with people who were ordering drinks with olives and talking about showbiz. And tomorrow she was probably going to go sightseeing. She would visit Central Park and the Empire State Building. Which reminded Ellie of what she had said in school on Friday. Which further reminded her that New York City was supposed to be her escape from the sparrows, and that if she were truly going to live here one day, she probably shouldn’t antagonize Doris.

  Ellie ate the last bite of her hamburger, rested her knife carefully on the edge of her plate, folded her hands, and placed them primly in her lap. She tried to smile in a sophisticated way at Jo, who was now telling a story about singing “Happy Birthday
” to someone while lying on top of a piano. She didn’t utter another word until Doris looked at her watch, heaved a sigh, and said, “Well, I guess Eleanor and I should go. It’s getting late.” She turned to Ellie. “Ready, hon?”

  “I’m ready.”

  Ellie and Doris said their good-byes and made their way out of the restaurant, Ellie now determined to remain cheerful.

  “So how did you meet your friends?” she asked as she and Doris walked through the streets of New York. Considering that it was after eleven o’clock, Ellie was surprised at how busy Seventh Avenue was. At this hour, Witch Tree Lane would be dark and silent, most of its residents already asleep. But here in New York City, Ellie saw people and dogs and cabs and buses, just as she had in the broad light of the afternoon.

  “Oh, at auditions mostly,” Doris replied. “Now we try to get together a few times a week.”

  Back in Doris’s apartment, Ellie rummaged through her suitcase and found her nightgown and toothbrush. “Hey,” she said suddenly. “Doris, where’s your bed?”

  Doris smiled. “Right here.” She removed the cushions from the couch, pulled at a small metal handle, and a bed emerged from within. “Voilà!” she exclaimed. “A convertible sofa bed. We can both sleep on it.”

  Ellie was content to snuggle up to Doris, but had trouble falling asleep. At home in the winter the only nighttime sounds she was aware of were made by Kiss, Marie, and her alarm clock. Here, Ellie heard clinking, pounding, hissing, rumbling, and, briefly, voices so loud that she thought surely they must somehow be in Doris’s apartment. But eventually she began to feel drowsy.

  “I’m sorry I was rude,” she whispered.