“We can go down there and look in the store,” said Gina. “They’re open at night.” She turned to Beth. “Let’s walk down there and show Francie, okay?”
“Sure,” said Beth. They all had reached the front door, having threaded their way through the closely packed tables in the Mexican restaurant.
“Okay, Uncle Mike?”
Mike indicated the door. “Sounds good. Lead on.”
“Did you like that Mexican food?” Gina asked Francie as the two girls pushed open the glass doors.
“Yeah. I never had it like that before. I’ve had chili, but what was that green stuff called?”
“Guacamole.”
“That was good.”
“I love it,” Gina said in agreement. “I ate so much I could burst.”
“This was a brainstorm,” Beth said to Mike as they followed the girls out the door and slowly began to stroll down South Street.
Mike pulled her arm through his and smiled a little smugly. “I thought so.”
“You’d think they were old buddies.”
“Well, that Gina is a good girl. And she never met a stranger. I figured they’d get along. They’re just about the same age.”
“It’s nice to see them having a good time,” Beth said thoughtfully.
“What about you?” Mike asked.
“Hmmmm…”
“Are you having a good time?”
Beth nodded. “Yes.” She watched the girls, who were chattering away, a few steps ahead of them. “I can’t believe Francie’s so talkative around you. She’s always so silent with me. That business about Max mailing the letter for her. She never even mentioned that to me.”
“She probably forgot about it.”
“I wonder if that letter was to Andrew. I’ll bet it was,” Beth said in a gloomy tone.
“Why don’t you ask her if you’re curious?”
“I don’t want to butt in like that. But I’ll bet it was.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it in any case. It was just a letter.”
“I suppose,” said Beth. “Anyway, it’s none of my business.”
A couple, both dressed in studs and black leather, with matching Mohawk haircuts were walking toward them. The young man’s stripe of hair was dyed electric blue, and his girl’s was magenta. She was wearing dangling metal earrings and a short leather skirt and ankle boots, while he was resplendent in crisscrossed bandoliers of metal studs. Francie stopped dead and stared at them as they went by, while Gina poked her and giggled.
As Beth and Mike caught up with them, they heard Gina saying to Francie, “South Street is sort of like the Greenwich Village of Philadelphia.”
“Oh,” said Francie, “I’ve never been to New York.”
“Everybody looks like that in New York,” Gina informed her in a confidential tone.
“Not everyone,” Mike said with a wry smile.
“That’s the store I meant,” said Gina, pointing across the street. “Meet you there,” she said to Mike.
Mike waved indulgently at them as they sprinted across the street in the direction of secondhand treasures.
“Amazing,” said Beth, shaking her head.
“What?”
“Francie. She’s having the time of her life.”
“It’s good to see her smiling,” said Mike. “She’s got a really sad aura about her. You can tell those eyes have seen some sorrow.”
“It’s true. They have.”
“Well, if anyone can make them sparkle, Gina can. She’s kind of goofy, like most kids, but she has a way of drawing people in.”
“It’s a gift,” Beth said ruefully.
A bell overhead tinkled as Mike and Beth entered the musty clothing store. The two girls were trying on old hats with veils and making fun of each other.
Gina began to hunt through the racks of old clothes and finally pulled out a faded leather jacket with a crow of triumph. “Try this on,” she insisted.
Francie looked at the coat. “That’s a nice one.”
“The lining’s perfect,” Gina pointed out.
Francie shrugged off her parka and tried on the coat, looking at herself in the cheval mirror in the corner. “Too big,” she said.
“It’s supposed to be big,” said Gina. “That’s the style.”
Francie looked at it doubtfully. “I don’t think so. I don’t like it as well as yours anyway.”
Gina pulled off her own coat and exchanged it for the one Francie was removing. She tried it on and admired herself. “Well, I like this better than mine.” Impulsively she hugged it around herself and rejected her own coat, which Francie was holding out to her. “No, you keep mine, and I’ll get this one.”
Francie looked horrified. “No, I couldn’t.”
Gina forced it on her with a laugh. “Yes. I’ve got some Christmas money, and I like this one better than mine anyway.”
Francie frowned at the jacket, her cheeks pink.
“Please?” said Gina.
“I’ll pay you for it,” said Francie firmly.
“No, no,” said Gina. “Just get rid of that old parka so I won’t be embarrassed to be seen with you.”
A blush of humiliation began to creep up Francie’s neck, but a glance at Gina’s kindly smile seemed to reassure her. She put the coat on with a shrug. “How do I look?”
“Great,” Gina shrieked.
Mike and Beth exchanged a glance. “She reminds me of you,” Mike said.
“Who? Francie?” Beth asked in surprise.
“It’s that stubborn little I-don’t-need-nothin’-or-nobody streak. All genuine offers met with suspicion,” he said in a bemused tone.
Beth was about to protest the unfairness of the remark, but she lapsed into silence instead as she mulled it over. After a minute she said, “You think I’m like her?”
“No, I think you’re a little worse.”
“Thanks,” she said indignantly.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re gonna have to work to keep up with these two.”
After a few more stops along the way Mike finally convinced Gina that it was time for her to go home and drove her down to his sister’s house in South Philadelphia. Beth leaned forward and held the seat down as Gina started to climb out and then reached back to give Francie a hug.
“When are you coming back?” Gina asked.
“I don’t know,” said Francie.
“Well, let me know.”
“I will.”
Beth felt herself getting a cramp in her side as she held the seat at its awkward angle during the lengthy good-bye. They were congratulating each other on their coats again. You’d think they were sisters, Beth thought.
“Come on, girls,” she said irritably.
“I had a great time,” Gina caroled as she bounded up the stoop to the front door of her house. She waved as she let herself in.
“She’s really nice,” said Francie as Beth pushed the seat back and slammed the door shut. Mike drove to the comer and then headed back uptown in the direction of Beth’s house.
“She is a nice girl,” said Mike.
“She’s your niece?”
Mike nodded. “The oldest daughter of my oldest sister. I have five other nieces and nephews too. Gina has two younger brothers.”
“I know,” said Francie. “She told me.”
“Now my younger sister has only one child. A boy. But I am partial to him because he’s named after me.”
They chatted on amicably for the rest of the ride home, Francie questioning Mike about his family and Mike cheerfully filling her in. Beth sat silently in the front seat, staring out the window.
Mike and Francie were still chattering as Beth unlocked the house, and they followed her inside. “We’re here,” she announced.
“Anyone want a cup of coffee?” asked Mike as he headed into the kitchen.
“No, it’ll keep me up all night,” Beth said, hanging up her coat.
“No, thanks,” said Francie. She flopp
ed down into a chair in the living room. “That was fun,” she said.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” said Beth.
“I’ve never been in a city before. There’s so much going on at once here. It’s like a circus.”
“I’ve always liked it,” said Beth. She could remember very clearly her first time in the city. There had been a street fair going on, people smoking dope in the sunshine and Hare Krishna monks chanting on the corner. It had scared her a little but instantly convinced her that she wanted to stay. She wished that Francie would ask her about it or at least seem interested. Words to describe that kaleidoscopic day waited eagerly for an opening.
Francie took off her glasses and squinted at them. She fished in her pocket, found a Kleenex, and began to wipe them off. She was still wearing the coat that Gina had given her. Beth thought for a minute of the necklace she had bought for her in Maine, the day they had gone to the lawyer. She hadn’t yet seen Francie wear it.
“We’ll be leaving fairly early tomorrow,” Beth said in a stilted tone.
“Oh, okay.” Francie sat up straighter in the chair and replaced her glasses on her nose.
“You’d better get some sleep. It could be a long trip again.”
Mike came into the living room carrying a cup of coffee as Francie was getting up from her chair. “Going up already?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”
Mike nodded.
“G’night, Mike. It was nice meeting you.”
Mike smiled broadly at her. “The pleasure was all mine. See you again.”
“Night,” Francie said to Beth. “Thanks for everything. I had a good time.”
Beth smiled briefly at her. “I’m glad. Sleep well.”
Mike leaned back and sipped his coffee. “That’s good instant,” he said, smacking his lips.
Beth nodded, her face sunken into a frown.
“I thought the evening went swimmingly,” he said.
“Mmmm,” said Beth. “I guess so.”
“They had a blast.”
“Yeah.”
“So you don’t sound too thrilled.”
Beth shrugged and sat up, hugging herself. “You know, Mike, I felt pretty good when she agreed to come down here with me. I—I don’t know. I guess I thought we might be making progress. But—”
“But what?”
“I don’t know. I feel as distant from her as ever. More than ever—”
“I thought she was quite friendly. She was clearly enjoying herself.”
“I can’t talk to her,” Beth complained. Then she sighed. “Well, that’s just the way it is. Too much has happened. All the arguing and the bad scenes up there. I should be grateful we can even tolerate each other and leave it at that. It doesn’t matter all that much, the little we see each other.”
“Can I tell you what I’ve noticed about you two?”
“Go ahead,” said Beth.
“I think she wants to be friends with you. She seems pretty willing—”
“In other words, it’s my fault,” said Beth, running her hands through her hair. “Look, Mike, we’re just not on the same wavelength. You don’t understand. I can’t just chatter away with her the way you can. I don’t feel comfortable doing that. I’m not like that.”
“Wait a minute. Wait. At the risk of sounding—well, it seems to me you’re both willing. But you’re being altogether too polite. I mean, you seem to keep on saying all the polite things, but you’re not really saying anything. Maybe if you just jumped right on in. She’s your family after all. You can talk at her if you want to. Say whatever comes to mind. You don’t have to be formal with your family.”
Beth shook her head. “I don’t want to be the boring older sister. Besides, I don’t think she’s all that interested in my life.”
“So you censor everything you want to say. You’re cautious. You worry about what she will think. But the best thing about family is that you’re entitled to be yourself, even if you’re being a jerk. And they’re entitled to tell you to stuff it. The whole idea is that in your family you are free.”
“Your family must have been different from mine,” said Beth. “It must have been fun.”
“Just the way our family is going to be,” he said. “But let’s start with you and your sister.”
Beth sighed, and stood up. She paced the living room while Mike drained his coffee, waiting for her to speak. Finally she stopped pacing and looked at him.
“Do you know, something so odd happened last night?”
“What?”
“I was in bed, getting ready to go to sleep, and she had her door open down the hall. I was going to close my door, the way I usually do. And then I decided to leave it open.”
Mike nodded.
“I imagined that I could hear her breathing—you know, sleep breathing. I’m sure I couldn’t actually hear it. She was too far down the hall. But I felt this peaceful feeling. I hadn’t felt it in years. It had to do with her just being there, sleeping in that other room.”
“It’s called security,” said Mike.
“I have security with you,” said Beth.
“It’s something different. I know what you mean. I feel it whenever I stay with one of my brothers or sisters. Especially my brother Ron. Whenever I stay at his place or he stays at mine, it’s like we’re safe, being there together. I’m not sure what it is we’re safe from. Maybe it’s like going back to childhood and not knowing the things that grown-ups know and worry about.”
Beth nodded and looked at him in genuine surprise. “Yes,” she said. “That’s it. Safe. Isn’t that odd?” She walked to the foot of the stairs and looked up toward the rooms above. “I hardly know her.”
“I’m telling you,” said Mike. “It’s in the blood.”
Beth turned and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “In the blood. I see. That’s a very scientific way for a doctor to talk.”
“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”
“Thank you, Will Shakespeare,” said Beth wryly.
Mike shrugged. “I believe it.”
But Beth was not listening. She stared up the empty stairwell, hugging the newel-post. The expression in her eyes was at once intent and perplexed as if she had sent a question up into the darkness and were waiting there, patiently, for her answer.
Chapter 20
HE WAITED UNTIL SIX O’CLOCK, when the darkness outside was complete and almost everyone would be home from work, huddling inside to avoid the cold, probably eating supper. Then he began.
First he went downstairs and opened the door that connected the garage to the basement. Using a flashlight, he located his old bike and tried walking it around the perimeter of the car. The steady click and whir assured him that the chain was not broken, and the tires still had spring to them as they moved, so they clearly were not flat. He had not used the bike in a long time, and he congratulated himself on his luck. Having leaned the bike against the side of the car, he unlocked the trunk and then folded the bike inside. It was also lucky that it was an old car, with such a deep well in the trunk.
It was true, he thought as he lowered the trunk hood and locked it, that the plan involved a major sacrifice. He hated to give up the car. But it was a brilliant plan, all the same, better than any in all the books of the decimater series that he had read. What made him think of it finally was Francie’s mother. She had been snuffed in a car accident. The car had just flipped over on her on an icy highway. It was neat and simple. The roads were steep and dangerous around here. It could easily happen. Someday, when they were far away and it was long in the past, he’d have to tell Francie how she had inspired him with that story about her mother. She’d be proud of him, he thought.
Andrew tried the trunk lid for security and found it locked tight.
That was good. He didn’t need it springing open on him while he was driving. Then he opened the car doors and went back into the hous
e.
Now came the hard part. He had to drag it down to the garage and then hoist it into the front seat. He went into the living room and looked down at the body. He had gotten used to seeing it there. That didn’t bother him. But the idea of touching it, lifting it up was repulsive. The flesh was cold now. He tried not to touch it as he squatted down and lifted it up under the armpits. For a moment, as he hoisted up the dead weight, he had a sudden image of his mother’s lifting his father’s body this same way. He could not tell if he had actually seen it happen or just imagined it. There was blood all over both of them. His teeth started to chatter at the thought, and he felt weak in his extremities. He felt the body slipping down and willed the thought from his mind, rearranging his grip on the corpse and starting to pull.
She was not light, and each backward step involved an effort that made his arms and shoulder muscles burn. As they reached the doorway, the body became hooked onto a multicolored rag throw rug. It bunched the rug up into folds that became impassable. Cursing himself for this oversight, Andrew maneuvered the body onto its side while he freed the rug from beneath it. He tossed the rug onto a chair by the door and then turned the corpse over again and pulled it through the doorway. He began to back down the hall, hauling her under the arms. The stiff hands dragged along the ground, and the feet fell open, heels scraping grooves in the wood floor. He was nearly to the top of the cellar stairs when her foot caught the cord of the phone on the table in the hallway, and the cord twisted around the table legs and pulled the table over. It fell on top of her, the phone clanging and making a harsh ring as it banged off the corpse and onto the floor. Andrew jumped and let out a yelp of anger and fright. “Goddammit,” he bellowed. Every moment’s delay seemed eternal, every sound in the house sure to attract the police. He forced himself to calm down and decided not to drop the body in order to replace the phone. If anyone was trying to call him, he didn’t want to talk to that person anyway. Except Francie, he amended the thought. But he would talk to her later. Once he had fixed everything for them.
Leaving the phone braying its off-the-hook signal on the floor, he started down the cellar stairs, pulling the corpse behind him. The body thudded down each step and then began to veer diagonally over the steps between the handrail and the stairs. At first he tried to right the direction, but then he realized that it was unnecessary. He let go of the shoulders and gave the back a shove. The body slid under the handrail and tumbled to the floor below, landing with a crack of bones breaking.
Little Sister Page 18
