Waltzing on the Danube

by Miranda MacLeod

  “Eleanor? Look, I—”

  “I need to go.” Without another word, Eleanor turned from the water’s edge, moving with long, determined strides in the direction of the ship.

  Jeanie watched helplessly as she disappeared from view, uncertain what to do. Should I follow her? An image of Eleanor’s face, hollow and pale, flashed into her mind. Probably the last thing Eleanor wanted right now was to have Jeanie around. She seemed furious, and Jeanie reluctantly admitted she had every reason to be. Her insides tightened into a knot. One thing was clear, her clumsy blunder had inflicted much more damage on their budding friendship than Jeanie had initially realized, and she was far from certain that she had the skills to set it right.

  Chapter 7

  Eleanor pinched her cheeks firmly, searching her reflection in the bathroom mirror for any returning signs of life. The results weren’t promising. Even after dabbing on some foundation beneath her puffy eyes and adding a coating of gloss to the thin lines of her mouth, she looked haggard. The emotions of the afternoon had taken their toll.

  Her eyes squeezed shut and she could see the hard edge of gray cobblestones dropping off into swirling brown water beneath, and the seemingly endless line of iron shoes coated in rust. So many shoes. A shudder ran from her shoulders down the length of her back. Her lungs tightened like hands were squeezing them inside her chest. She’d realized instinctively what it was, where she was standing, even before reading the plaque at her feet. To the memory of the victims shot into the Danube.

  She gasped as her cell phone rang, then her breathing returning to normal as she recognized the ring tone reserved for Miriam.

  “Mimi? I’m so glad you called me back!”

  “Of course I did, Elle. I always call when you use the code.”

  They’d devised the codeword years ago, an ordinary word that could be left as a message or sent as a text to signal that something important was going on, good or bad, and needed to be discussed pronto. Eleanor had texted it to her as soon as she got back to the ship.

  “Oh, Mimi, it was awful.”

  “Awful? Ah, crap. I was hoping you were calling to tell me you’d already met someone and were planning to elope.”

  Eleanor laughed despite herself. “Seriously, Mimi? This is only my second day on the ship! Besides which, we’re going to need to have a little talk when I get back about the difference between European and American calendars.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you screwed up the dates, my dear. I swear, between you and Jeanie! The lesbian cruise you were so desperate for me to go on was last month. This month’s cruise is for senior citizens who want to learn how to dance.”

  “No! You didn’t use the code to tell me you’re coming home, did you?”

  “No, nothing like that. If anything, I guess I could use some relaxation more than I’d realized. I started to have a panic attack this afternoon. Not a full blown one, so don’t worry. I managed to keep it mostly under control. But still, it had me scared.”

  “Oh, Elle! But you’d been doing so well. You haven’t had one in over a year.” Not since the one that finally drove Sylvia away, Eleanor silently amended her sister's words. “What happened?”

  “It was that Holocaust memorial. Remember the one with the shoes that you wanted me to photograph for you? Well, I ran into it today. Quite literally.”

  Eleanor’s mind raced back to that afternoon when she’d chased after her tour book and all of a sudden she’d been just inches from the shoes. To the memory of the victims shot into the Danube. The memorial hadn’t specified that the victims were Jewish, but it didn’t need to. In a Nazi-occupied country at the height of the war, who else would it be?

  “So, you went to see it on a tour?”

  “No, it was a stupid accident. Jeanie had knocked my book into the river and I chased after it—no idea why, since any fool would’ve known it was lost for good—and almost tripped over the first shoe before I realized where I was. There was so much hatred there, Mimi. I swear I could still feel it.”

  Eleanor’s body shook while she described it. As a Jewish woman and a lesbian, she’d faced more than her fair share of bigotry before, but nothing in her life had prepared her for the visceral impact of standing in that spot. The magnitude of the atrocity that had once been enacted on that river bank had hit her like an icy wave where she’d stood. Her body had grown unbearably heavy, her knees threatening to buckle while her head spun. For one terrifying moment she truly believed she would follow in their footsteps, into the murky depths of the river.

  “Remember Rabbi Schultz’s wife, wasn’t she Hungarian? I think she grew up in Budapest during the war.”

  “Yeah, I remember her. She used to make the best hamantaschen for Purim, and she'd let us kids have as many to eat as we could stuff in our mouths.” She squeezed her eyes shut to keep back a fresh flow of tears. “I thought of her when I was standing there, Mimi. I thought of all of them—the ones we knew who survived, and the ones who didn't. And I just kept thinking that if I’d been alive then, it would’ve been me, too. I had to get away from there, and when I got back to the room, the panic hit me full-force.”

  “Oh, Elle, honey. That sounds awful.” The conversation fell silent for a moment. “So, who’s Jeanie?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Jeanie. You mentioned her twice.”

  “I…no, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Crap. “She’s just another passenger I met on the ship.” Whom I abandoned on the promenade when I ran off like a lunatic. What must she be thinking of me right now?

  “One of the senior citizens?”

  “No. She’s about my age, I guess. Maybe a few years younger.”

  “I see. So she was supposed to be on the singles cruise, too, huh?” The glee in Miriam’s voice was unmistakable.

  “You can stop right there. I know where you’re going with this. Yes, she likes women. No, that does not mean we’re going to be in a relationship, nor are we running off to get married.”

  “I see. So you don’t find her attractive?”

  “I…” Eleanor cringed at the hesitance in her voice.

  “Ha! I knew it. You totally do!”

  “She’s attractive, okay? Nice hair, great legs—so what? She’s unpredictable, and unreliable, and absolutely, one hundred percent, the opposite of me in every way.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, she’s fun?” Miriam teased.

  “Shut up. I can be fun.”

  “Mmm…hmm.”

  Sitting on the edge of her bed, Eleanor twisted the corner of the duvet around her fingers nervously as she remembered her behavior that afternoon. “The thing is Mimi, even if I were interested—and I’m not saying I am—she’s not going to want to talk to me after today.”

  “She was that freaked out by your OCD?”

  “Actually, no.” Eleanor smiled faintly as she recalled their walk from the train station. “That was the weird thing. There was a point where she was teasing me—”

  “I like her already!”

  “She was teasing me about the walking tour I was following. You know me, I had to do each step of it in the correct order. It was this historical gardening thing—”

  “A gardening tour? Elle, you grew up in Manhattan. Have you ever planted a single thing in your life?”

  Eleanor snorted. “Not as I can recall. You do know that this is the one area in my life where logic doesn't play a role, right?”

  “Oh, I know. So you insisted on stopping every fifteen feet to read the signs?”

  “It’s scary how well you know me. But the weird thing was, she seemed to get it.”

  “Really? That is weird. Do you think she has anxiety herself?”

  “Jeanie?” Eleanor laughed. “I think that Jeanie Brooks lives on her own special planet where anxiety and worry don’t exist. But she handled it really well. And it's not like she had any reason to pretend it bothered her less than it did.” Not
like Sylvia, who'd enjoyed riding in first class enough to hide her frustration, at least in the beginning.

  “Wait, you know her last name, too? This is serious. You never remember people’s names.”

  “Shut up.” It was true, but not something she was proud of. She knew it made her seem rude, unlike Jeanie who could remember the name of every person she ever met like some sort of magical memory goddess.

  “Fine. But you’ve never said why she won’t want to talk to you again. If it’s not the anxiety…”

  “Mimi, it was so embarrassing.” Eleanor’s stomach clenched. “I just froze when I saw those shoes. Then I said I had to go, and I turned and ran. No explanation. She has to think I’m crazy.”

  “So explain it to her.”

  “How do I explain something like that?”

  “Look, you like her. So all you do—”

  Eleanor stiffened. “Wait. I never said I liked her.”

  “You like her. Maybe just as a friend, but you like her. So you just tell her the truth. She’ll probably understand. I mean, she already suffered through that gardening tour and survived. That sounded way worse than the panic attack.”

  “But, Mimi, I don’t even know where she is.”

  “You’re on a boat, Elle. On a river. So how many places could she be? It’s almost dinner where you are, right? Go find her in the dining room. Everyone’s gotta eat, and from what you described, she’ll be the only one there without silver hair.”

  Eleanor sighed. “Okay. I guess it couldn’t hurt. Thanks, Sis.”

  She hung up the call and stretched out on the bed, trying to summon the strength to go out and face the world. It was slow in coming. All she really wanted was to call the concierge and have a dinner tray delivered to her room. She could go to bed early and look for Jeanie in the morning. Or not at all. Despite the hour or two they’d spent touring together today, they were virtually strangers. Jeanie was probably just as happy to be rid of her company. Wouldn't it be easier to accept defeat now than try to make it right and fail anyway?

  That's just the anxiety talking. Eleanor pushed herself up from the downy depths of her duvet with a whimper. You know that's not how you operate anywhere else. Eleanor Fielding does not accept defeat! She and Jeanie were different as night and day, but they’d gotten along, and Jeanie had shown her a great deal of consideration in indulging her idiosyncrasies. The least she could do was apologize for running off. Eleanor owed her that much. Jeanie would probably not want to spend any more time with her on the trip, a realization that left Eleanor feeling hollow inside, but at least she could explain and be brave enough to face the consequences.

  But how? Telling someone you’d just met that you had a panic attack because the ghosts of your ancestors cried out for justice on the banks of the Danube sounded…totally nuts. Eleanor felt her cheeks tingle, mortified at how she’d allowed herself to lose control. She hated that her anxiety had the power to turn her into someone she barely recognized. It was humiliating.

  On her way out the door, Eleanor caught a glimpse of her face in a mirror and laughed in spite of herself. She looked a hundred times better than she had, her cheeks once more exhibiting a peachy glow. At least she could thank the utter embarrassment that she felt in herself for putting some color back into her complexion.

  She made her way reluctantly to the main dining room and peered through the glass doors. She squinted in confusion to find that, though the doors had opened for dinner a full five minutes before, the room was empty. Could the whole rest of the ship really be running late this time, or was she about to discover another snafu?

  “Excuse me, but are you looking for your friend, Miss Jeanie?”

  Eleanor spun around to see one of the crew members that Jeanie had spoken with on their first day. The nice one, not the one she'd threatened with a lawsuit. His name is…Nope. Eleanor couldn’t remember. “Where is everyone?”

  “The first dance class was today, and it’s running behind schedule. They’re down there,” he added, pointing down the corridor.

  “Thank you…Rolfe!” She added his name with a grin, feeling inordinately pleased with herself for recalling that detail.

  She found the classroom and pushed the door open, freezing in her tracks at the sight of dozens of couples swirling to the recorded music of a jazz band. She was completely out of her element in this setting, the chaos of the movements making her jittery. Just as the song concluded, she spotted Jeanie on the opposite side of the room. She’d changed into a full-skirted polka dot dress that twirled out around her as her partner gave her a final spin with a surprising amount of energy for a gentleman who could have danced to this music when it was new. Eleanor watched, transfixed.

  After a smattering of applause for the instructor, the dancers gathered up their things and headed to the door. Jeanie chatted amicably with a few of the other women as she approached where Eleanor stood. Her face clouded over as she caught sight of Eleanor, her jovial mood seeming to evaporate, and Eleanor’s stomach clenched. Jeanie was anything but happy to see her, and Eleanor still had no idea what she was going to say in her own defense.

  Chapter 8

  A few hours earlier…

  “Oh, Mama, I feel like such an idiot.” Jeanie lay across her narrow bed, elbows propped up on her single pillow, with her chin resting on folded hands. “Why am I always getting myself into situations like this? I’m too impulsive.”

  Her mother’s sympathetic face looked back at her from the screen of her tablet. “You know I won’t argue with you about that. Not after you just emptied your savings account and flew off to Budapest on a whim!”

  “It wasn’t a whim! I’ve been saving up for a trip to Europe for years.”

  “A trip, yes. But not this particular trip. You went from seeing the ad to booking the ticket in a matter of minutes! It’s no wonder you mixed up the dates.”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t the mistake I was talking about. We already discussed that one yesterday, and I’ve gotten over it. I’ve decided this is still a very nice cruise, and I’m going to learn how to dance, too.” Jeanie stuck out her tongue at her mother’s doubting face. “Today's issue is why I can’t stop myself from flinging other people’s books into the Danube!”

  “Oh, Jeanie.” Her mother chuckled. “You’ve always had trouble maintaining your poise when there’s a pretty girl involved.”

  Jeanie bristled. “How do you even know she’s pretty? I never said she was.”

  “You didn’t have to, sweetie. It was obvious as soon as you said that you tossed her book in the river.”

  “Fine. She’s pretty.” Jeanie rolled her eyes. Her mother could always be counted on to see right through her. “And confident. And gallant. And sometimes dorky, but in a cute way. But also rigid and arrogant. And if there were any other single women on this ship like there were supposed to be, I wouldn’t be giving her a second thought right now.”

  “You’re certain about that?”

  “Yes! We have nothing in common, except the ability to reverse dates on a calendar, apparently. And she won’t even admit that she did it, which is really annoying. Blamed her sister.”

  “Still, you like her enough that you’re upset by the possibility of not seeing her again.”

  Jeanie sighed. “We were having a nice time before I ruined it.” She shut her eyes tightly as she recalled the way the tour book had sailed through the air. “The thing is, Mama, I can’t help doing stupid things sometimes. I get nervous. I ramble and say things I regret later. That’s just me. If she’s going to get angry every time I do, there’s no use thinking we could get along for the next two weeks, let alone anything else.”

  “Goodness, you must really like her.”

  “What do you mean?” Jeanie frowned in confusion. “No, I don’t. She's rigid and arrogant, remember? I'm sure I mentioned it. But it would have been nice to have a companion on the cruise. That’s all.”

  “So why are you worried about getting along aft
er the cruise?”

  “I’m not! I…” Jeanie’s earlier words played back through her mind. “Oh.”

  “So maybe she’s more than just a convenience?”

  “I…” Jeanie slumped against the pillow, burying her face. She let out a muffled scream. “No,” she answered, looking at her mother on the screen. “It’s just me being stupid again. Rationally, even if we patched things up enough to go sightseeing together again, that’s all it would be.”

  “You’re sure about that?” her mother asked, and Jeanie nodded. “You're not usually all that swayed by what's rational. But if that's really how you feel, and you do end up spending more time together, try to go easy on her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean, Jeanie Louise, is that you’re a merciless flirt! You don't want to lead the poor woman on.”

  “I am not!”

  “You are, sweetie. Women, men, straight, gay. You can’t help yourself. You flirt with everyone.”

  Jeanie thought back to her recent encounters with the security guard and the men on the crew. She was always nice to people, and sometimes she'd butter them up a little so that she could get their help, but that wasn't really flirting, was it? She groaned. Her mother might have a point. “I don’t mean any harm by it.”

  “I know that. But Eleanor doesn’t. Try not to confuse her.”

  “I won’t, not that it matters,” Jeanie added with a sinking heart, remembering the cold, sunken look on Eleanor’s face. “She’s too angry to ever give me a second chance.”

  Once the video chat ended, Jeanie slid off the bed into a pile of clothing on the floor. Trying to fit her wardrobe into the built-in drawers had been an exercise in frustration, and Jeanie appreciated that leaving everything out allowed her to see all of her clothing options at a glance. What her system lacked in tidiness it made up for in convenience, at least as long as she remembered to lift her feet when she walked so she wouldn’t trip. It worked for her. Some people would probably not approve.