by Gail Cleare
As the third week came and began to pass, with no further sign of the elusive Mr. Novak, I sank into a mildly depressed state. I told myself it came as much from boredom as anything. Setting up the store had been a huge task, tons of work, and now that it was over I felt a lot less productive.
Every night I went home alone and spent the evenings watching TV or reading, with Tree curled up on my lap. I called my mother and told her the whole story, touching base with her comforting optimism and love. Once a week the girls and I were getting together for what we now called “Ladies’ Night,” which was wonderful and so much fun, but they all went home to their families afterwards and I felt abandoned.
I tried to re-immerse myself in work, and started dreaming up a cooperative marketing campaign for the merchants in the immediate area. The ad rep from our local paper was excited about it, and offered to put together a special section for anything we might agree to do. Laurel loved the idea, and helped me distribute a flyer to the stores on Market Street, inviting the owners to attend an early morning meeting at the Green Thumb to discuss the possibilities.
Siri was sensitive to my state of mind, and kindly invited me to come home with her for dinner one night.
“It’s just pot luck, no big deal,” she said, shrugging with her hands tipped out. “Just us, and a couple of friends.”
I modified my grandmother’s recipe for chocolate cake and made two, one for the shop and one for Siri’s dinner party. I used dark chocolate for the cakes and the frosting. In an inspired moment, I toasted some sliced almonds in the oven, let them cool, and sprinkled them on top of the cakes.
Siri left a little early that day to get things ready at home. I had never been to visit her before, and was curious to see her apartment. She lived in a large yellow brick three-story building that housed twelve rental units, two blocks down Market Street on the same side as our store. Isabella Reyes lived in the same building. They jokingly called it “The Palace.”
“It’s basically a dump, OK?” laughed Bella, when I asked her about it. “But it’s got a great feeling from all the tenants, who are really pretty cool.”
“The building is in disrepair,” Siri added seriously. “Our landlord is not very energetic. At least the rooms are fairly large.”
Bella and her husband were both coming to the dinner party, Siri told me. As were a couple of Tom’s friends. It sounded like fun, and I was glad to be going out for a change. I closed the shop at six and stopped in at Sorrentino’s for some vanilla ice cream, using a cake carrier I’d borrowed from Laurie and a big tote bag to carry my offerings.
I re-crossed the road and headed down the sidewalk past our corner. Next to us was a used clothing store, then a sprawling antique store, then a little tiny building set back from the sidewalk that was occupied by a seamstress who did custom-designed clothing and alterations. She was next to a hairdresser, and then came the Asian-fusion restaurant called Buddha, which smelled great. I had still not yet eaten there. My mouth watered. I glanced in the front window and saw Mei and another pretty Asian girl (her sister?) waiting on tables.
In the next block, I passed an optician, a professional building filled with lawyers’ and accountants’ offices, a shoe store, and a small jewelry store. Then I started closing in on my goal. I could see the big yellow brick face of it looming at the end of the block.
Two teenaged boys stood talking on the sidewalk outside the front door, one of them with a bike. A woman with a baby in a stroller sat in a folding lawn chair nearby. A small dog was leashed to the stroller, and stood alert with his tail up and wagging. They all looked at me and smiled in a friendly way as I slowly approached. The cake carrier was getting kind of heavy. It bumped against my legs.
The woman in the chair, who had glossy dark brown skin and wore a colorful African shirt and turban, observed my distress.
“Hey there, you, Superboy!” she called loudly. “Can’t you see that a lady needs some help?” She winked and smiled at me. The baby grinned and hooted, waving his hands in the air. I realized it was the same little boy I had seen many times in the stroller next to Siri’s daughter.
The teenagers jerked as if startled, then turned to focus on me in a dazed, distracted fashion.
“My son, Mr. Rashid the Oblivious, will now help the lady with her package,” she announced, staring meaningfully at one of the boys.
Rashid seemed to snap out of it.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said politely, “Can I help you Ma’am?” He shuffled forward to take the carrier carefully out of my hands.
“Thank you, I don’t want to drop it! Now I’ll have to give you a piece. Do you like chocolate cake?”
He shot a shy smile over to his mother, who watched with approval as she jiggled the baby stroller with one hand.
“Yes Ma’am I sure do!”
“See,” his mother observed as we entered the building, “Being polite is not such a bad thing, is it?”
“No Ma’am.”
“Just like I told you, right?”
“Yes Ma’am!”
Rashid said he knew where the Rodgers family’s apartment was, and led the way up to the third floor. At the head of the stairs, two apartment doors directly across the hallway from each other were standing open. Music played in both apartments, and several small children were scooting back and forth on toy vehicles. The boy carrying my cake headed straight into the door on the right, then back to Siri’s kitchen, obviously familiar with the territory.
I followed at a slower pace, dodging a child riding a giant snail on wheels, and entered the living room. At the moment, no one else was there. It was extremely tidy. The furnishings were done in earth tones, and looked to be a mix of old and new items acquired over the years. Several tall, engraved brass lamps, a woven wall hanging and a hand-carved pierced wooden folding screen spoke of India. A dining table and chairs occupied one end of the room, the table set for dinner.
Siri came running out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel, crying, “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to our home!” and suddenly the room was filled with people as Isabella and Rolando Reyes, Tom Rodgers, and Siri’s father, Gupta, all appeared and crowded around to hug me or shake my hand. The kids crowded around too, sensing a competitor for the adults’ attention, and the Reyes’ little girl started to whine. She was scooped up by her daddy, who took her back across the hall to her playpen.
We three girls headed for the kitchen. Siri was roasting a leg of lamb with rosemary, to serve with curried rice. Bella had made a gorgeous salad. My cake awaited, having survived the trip with only a little superficial damage. I cut a hunk for Rashid, and put it on a paper napkin. He thanked me politely and sped off, wolfing it down as he went.
Bella poured three glasses of Chardonnay. We raised our glasses and clinked, standing together under the spotlight in front of the sink.
“To friends,” I said.
“To friends,” they repeated. We drank, smiling.
“Speaking of friends, I hope you’re not going to kill me.” Siri had turned her back to me, stirring the pot on the stove.
“What do you mean, kill you?” I asked her.
“She’s matchmaking again!” Bella announced, shaking her finger.
“Matchmaking! Who? For me?” I said, indignantly.
Siri turned and grinned at me.
“No, no, not for you, not exactly that is,” she said. “It’s for Jim, he’s the one who needs a little help, that’s all.”
“You mean, Jim-your-husband’s-friend, that Jim?” I asked, remembering him from the opening party at the store. He was cute, as I recalled.
“Yes, Tom is very concerned about him. He just moved here, and he doesn’t know anyone, and he’s so lonely. “
“Oh I see. The poor boy.”
“The only thing is, we kind of think there is a slight possibility that he might be, well…gay. Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Well, maybe, he might be. He didn’t actually say so
. But, he never really talks about girls, you know, the way most of the tradesmen do. Tom says he seems a little embarrassed when they all start telling dirty jokes.”
“So, maybe he is just more refined than they are. More polite. Or maybe he’s…gay,” I agreed with her logic.
“And tonight we might find out,” she said cheerfully, turning back to the stove. “I invited Jim, and I invited you, the perfect temptation for any heterosexual single man, and, I invited my friend Larson.”
“Larson?” I inquired, never having heard the name before.
Bella smiled knowingly and nodded her head.
“Larson Moss. The perfect temptation for any gay single man,” she finished Siri’s confession.
“So, you mean to dangle both of us in front of him and see which one he goes for, is that it?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” Siri said, picking up her wine. “That’s it exactly.”
“Oh, really!”
“Yes really,” she said earnestly. “Whichever of you he wants to pursue a friendship with, if he does, so much the better. Isn’t that true? You are all three fine, lovely people, and everyone deserves to find their happiness.”
She regarded me solemnly.
“Anyhow, how are people ever going to meet each other if their friends don’t introduce them?” Bella added, logical as always.
“I see,” I replied. “OK. I’m in. I think Jim is cute, and I’m certainly not seeing anyone, not at the moment. I’ve got nothing to lose.” I rolled my eyes.
We lifted our glasses and clinked them together once again.
“Let the games begin,” said Bella.
“No no, no games!” I protested.
“How about, ‘Gentlemen, start your engines?’” Siri suggested.
“That’s better!”
We heard voices in the living room, the sound of a welcoming. Heading in to see who had arrived, we discovered Tom shaking hands vigorously with Jim, who stood in the doorway carrying a bottle of red wine. They were laughing at something we had missed. Both men looked over as we women entered the room. Jim spotted Siri and greeted her, coming over to kiss her on the cheek and hand her the wine. He shook hands with Isabella, whom he apparently knew as well.
“You remember my friend Emily, don’t you Jim?”
“Yes, of course. From the wonderful shop down the street,” he said, shaking my hand. He was very tall, and built solidly. His eyes crinkled up when he smiled, and his cheeks were rosy. I decided he reminded me of a young Santa Claus. Lumberjack-style. He was very friendly and seemed delighted to see me, and everyone else for that matter.
Tom opened the red wine and poured some for Jim, and for himself. We all settled down in the living room to talk. Siri had put out some cheese and crackers on the coffee table, and a little bowl of Calamata olives. It was nice. I felt like an adult. I realized I had not been out in ages.
The conversation flowed along as Tom got Jim to tell a funny story about one of their customers at work, and everyone else chimed in with laughter and comments. Jim was definitely attractive. A great guy. He looked each of us in the eyes as he spoke, including everyone and talking with big, expressive gestures. He was well spoken, and funny too. Bella and I caught eyes, and I nodded, showing my interest. I gave Jim my best, brightest smile, trying to appear responsive and attentive. He smiled back at me, obviously pleased.
Then a voice came from the door to the hall, which still stood open.
“Well, is anybody going to invite me in, or do I have to trespass?”
Larson Moss had definitely arrived, and stood posed in the doorway.
“Forgive us our trespasses, darling Siri, don’t you know?” he vamped, as she sprang up and ran to greet her friend.
He was short, balding and dapper, wearing a well-cut gray suit with a black T-shirt and a tasteful gold chain. He had gold studs in his pierced ears. They hugged and she pulled him into the room to make introductions. He giggled at something she said under her breath.
“Larson,” she said, “This is Emily, and Tom’s friend Jim-from-work, and of course everyone else, you know. Everybody, this is Larson, my friend from the food coop.” She finished and we all greeted him.
Then I glanced back at Jim again, and the mystery of his sexuality was immediately, utterly revealed. He stared at Larson with his eyes aglow. His mouth had literally dropped open. Oh, he had liked me, fine and dandy, but he was fascinated by this new guy. As in, guy. And Larson seemed quite taken with Jim, too. He stared up at the big man with a look of delight on his face. The sparks between them practically lit up the room.
I smiled over at Bella, who was noticing the same thing. She shrugged her shoulders, oh well! We caught Siri’s eye too. She was grinning from ear to ear. The men all talked on and Rolando Reyes came back from across the hall with a beer in hand, to join in.
We three women excused ourselves and escaped back to the kitchen. We burst into laughter. Bella threw herself down into one of the kitchen chairs, clutching at her sides as she guffawed. Siri and I clutched at each other.
“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about Jim being lonely any more!” she gasped.
“Nope!”
“And may they live happily ever after,” I added. “Anyhow, I’m kind of relieved.”
“You’re not still pining after that handsome art dealer, are you?” Bella scolded, shaking her finger.
“I am not pining.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not, I’m just—oh, nothing at all. I am feeling nothing. I’m just…bored.”
I pouted and frowned. I didn’t really like them getting so close to the truth.
“Don’t worry,” said Siri. “You are much too beautiful a person to be single for long.” She put her arms all the way around me and hugged me once, hard, then let me go again.
“I know,” I protested, pretending to brush her away. “OK, don’t get all sappy on me. I’ve got a lot of good things going on for me right now, anyhow. I’m too busy to get depressed. Anyhow, I like spending time alone. I get a lot done.”
The girls just smiled at me knowingly and we all pitched in to get dinner onto the table. We all gathered round, including the kids, except for the Reyes baby who was now asleep in her port-a-crib despite all the noise. Tom carved the lamb and served it like an old-fashioned host, sitting at the head of the table. Siri sat at the other end across from him and passed around the steaming bowl of curried rice. Bella dressed and tossed the salad, standing up to serve as people held out their plates. I went around with a pitcher of ice water and poured some into every waiting glass. Jim poured more wine. It was a happy, busy, noisy group as everyone filled their plates and then their mouths, and we all enjoyed each other’s company.
After dessert was over and everything had been cleared away into the kitchen, where Tom and Jim were doing the dishes while Larson sat at the table and supervised, I sat on the sofa with Siri’s father, Gupta, drinking tea. He preferred a green jasmine tea called “Dragon Pearls,” which was light and flavorful. This was the first time I had spoken with him alone, and I enjoyed his intelligent conversation.
I was telling him about the girl Amy, who showed up every few days to do some small chores and stuff herself at my kitchen table, always holding back to save something for her mother, whom she said was still sick and unable to work. She refused to tell me where they lived, or her last name, or her mother’s name, or the whereabouts of her father. I’d actually gotten pretty cagey about trying to trick the information out of her, but to no avail. I was wondering if it was a mistake not to call the police and get her some help, perhaps from the Department of Social Services.
Gupta listened carefully to what I said. He sipped his tea.
“Do you have any reason to suppose the child is being abused?” he asked.
“No, not really. She is never bruised or anything like that.”
“And, the mother? Is she someone in need of protection?”
“Maybe,
I don’t know. Amy just tells me she is sick. Perhaps she needs a doctor, or some medicine.”
He sipped the tea again and wiped his gray mustache on a napkin. He looked thoughtful, putting down his cup.
“Do you know what I think?” he said with certainty. “I think perhaps if you tell the police, they might take Amy away to a foster home, and then what will become of the mother? Who will feed her then, who will take care of her? And, how will the family ever be reunited?” He grew animated, and waved his hands in the air just the way Siri did when she got excited.
“But what should I do?”
“I think maybe it is not so hard to find these people after all,” he said convincingly. “There are two places you haven’t looked, that I can think of. There are probably more.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, the laundromat across the street,” he said, pointing. “Everyone who lives in an apartment around here goes there, at some time during the week, to wash their clothes.” He smiled at me as I nodded in agreement, realizing the truth of what he said.
“Second, the church on the next corner,” he continued. “They have AA meetings there with free coffee and doughnuts, and sometimes soup or a potluck dinner. People who are hungry would know this, and come there. Anyone is allowed to enter the meetings, anyone who is accepting of help.”
He was right, of course. I told him so, and thanked him profusely. Why hadn’t I thought of this?
“I have a good idea how we might keep an eye on the laundromat,” he added. “Remember our young friend from downstairs who likes chocolate cake?”
“Rashid?”
“Yes, of course. He is the perfect investigator!”
I realized this was true, as well. Gupta was a very wise man, and full of useful suggestions tonight.
“Leave it to me,” he said, rubbing his hands together with a twinkle in his eye. I got the feeling that the old fellow was actually going to enjoy this project.
“I will speak to the boy, and a few others I know. We will soon locate Miss Amy, and find out the rest of her name, too,” he said.
