“What? You and Roy? Besides the fact you’re my best friend?” She smiles sweetly at me.
I give her a Be serious look. We both know that Blanche’s main concern is Blanche.
“Fine. I’m ’bout to admit something to you, Bonn, but you can’t do that thing where you purse your lips. Deal?”
“I don’t make deals with the devil.”
“Fair enough,” she says, with a strangely shy smirk. “I’m envious.”
I sit up straighter. “Of me?”
“Of you and Roy…”
She pauses, as if waiting for me to react, but I don’t. Externally, at least. Inside, I love that Blanche is jealous of something I have, ’specially something she’s never taken seriously.
“It’s just that…” she continues, navigating Big Bertha ’round a bend. “Well, Buck is amazing. I’ve been fighting it, but I could see us one day getting … hitched.” She forces the word out, sheepishly glancing at me.
Blanche Caldwell has my full attention.
“Stop that,” she says.
“Stop what?” I ask.
“Looking at me like you’ve just seen a unicorn.” She takes a deep breath. “Anyway, like I said, I’m envious ’cause I wish me and Buck was like you and Roy. I wish Buck was my first and only boyfriend. Kind of like a tooth.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve got the same teeth your whole life.”
“Huh?”
We bounce over the tracks into Cement City.
“We’re not sharks, Bonn, that loses one and grows another.”
She says it as if the concept is obvious, which it ain’t. It never is with Blanche.
“What ’bout baby teeth?” I ask.
“I reckon I forgot those existed.” She laughs, then her face lights up. “Aha! All those other boys were simply my baby teeth. So they don’t count. Buck is my adult tooth.”
“But we have like thirty-some adult teeth.”
Blanche growls and slows Big Bertha as we approach my house. “Stop poking holes in my tooth analogy, will ya? I’m all balled up now.”
I laugh. “So what you’re sayin’ is that Buck is important to you and the rumors are takin’ away from that?”
“We ain’t sharing him.”
Blanche’s voice is so serious I almost raise my hands defensively. “Everything will be okay. I promise.”
“I think you should tell Roy ’bout Doc’s.” She glances over at me, as if she wants to make sure I’m listening. “It’s only a matter of time before he finds out for himself, and it’d be best if it came from you. Besides, I could see him liking it there.”
“I don’t know,” I say, and I mean it. Before, I was ready to share that world with him, also believing he might enjoy Doc’s. But now there’s this Henry-sized fear standing in the way.
“Think ’bout it. In the meantime—and I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this—don’t do anything stupid to mess things up with Roy. The gossip mill would love that.”
I mumble some type of reassurance as I get out of Big Bertha, then race inside my house, as if it’s a safe haven, as if I’m running away from the memory of Henry’s body pressed against mine, the shelves digging into my back, the feel of his lips on mine.
15
As the days go by, the gossip escalates. Both Roy’s skepticism and Blanche’s annoyance escalate right alongside it. But, being Blanche is louder, her worries are front and center, and she’s hounding me on a daily basis ’bout finally telling Roy ’bout my flapper alter ego.
Tonight’s the first night all week that she hasn’t uttered a word ’bout it. I’d almost rather she would. Her yammering serves one good: it keeps my mind off my ma.
Blanche pours a drink, slides it to Mr. Champagne Cocktail, looking quite pleased with herself. Nothin’ new there.
“Hey,” she says, her voice seeming hesitant, “ain’t that the boy who followed you out of the back room? Haven’t seen him since then.”
Henry and I lock eyes, and a blast of heat courses through my body. He smiles wickedly at me.
“I think so.”
He turns away, strides ’cross the room, shaking hands, patting shoulders, throwing back his head in laughter.
“Bonn,” Blanche says, “you never told me why he was back there with you.”
I bite my lip and drop beneath the bar to get a new bottle of whiskey. When I stand, I come clean to Blanche as fast as possible. “I made a mistake, let him kiss me.”
“You let him?”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t stop him.”
Blanche shakes her head. “And now,” she says, slowly, “we’re in this predicament.”
“It’s fine. Henry is fine. It’s no big deal he’s here.”
“Yeah,” she says, drawing out the word. “Why don’t I have Raymond ask him to leave?”
“God, no. That’s so embarrassing. It’s fine.” I give Blanche a pointed look when she opens her mouth, and say, “Really.”
Blanche doesn’t look convinced, and I ain’t too sure, either. I discreetly watch Henry as the night wears on, hating that I do. Eventually, he swaggers toward the bar, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I’m okay,” I whisper to Blanche.
She taps her fingers against a bottle, as if she’s deliberating, but eventually she curses and turns to Mr. Champagne Cocktail to see if he’d like another drink.
“Hi, Bonnelyn.” Henry casually slings his jacket atop the bar. “Miss me?”
“It’s been a while,” I say, and wipe down a spot on the bar that ain’t even wet.
He smiles. “I’ll take a drink. And, another kiss.”
I reach for a glass and steel my nerves at seeing him again. “I can get you that drink, but I’m afraid there won’t be another kiss.”
“Aw, Bonnelyn, I do recall you kissing me back.” He flashes a smile. “Don’t punish me for being away for so long.”
“I’m not. Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“’Cause of your boyfriend fiancé?”
Hearing Henry acknowledge Roy turns my stomach.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Henry adds.
And that comment toughens my resolve. “Sorry, Henry, bank’s closed.”
“You’re kidding, right?” His demeanor shifts, hardens. “You’re going to tell me no?”
His name may be Henry but his narrowed eyes are nothin’ like my daddy’s. My daddy’s eyes were never cruel.
“Sweetie,” he goes on, his voice patronizing, “girls like you are a dime a dozen.”
I clench the glass. “I reckon it’s time you’re on your way then. Like I said, you ain’t going to get another kiss from me.”
Henry turns, leaves, goes straight for the door.
I let out a breath and put Henry’s empty glass back, my hand not quite steady.
Blanche is immediately at my side. “Real glad to see he’s gone.”
“Yeah.” I exhale.
“Don’t worry ’bout him. Henry’s on his way out. Things with Roy and you are good. Buck and I are good. All is good. Who knows, maybe things are ’bout to get even better.”
“Yeah?” I drop my hand to the bar, right atop Henry’s jacket. “Ah, shoot. He forgot his coat.”
Blanche rips it from my hands. “I can take care of that for ya.”
“I’d feel better returning it now.” I move to take the jacket from Blanche, but she holds on. “I know what I’m doing, Blanche. This way, he doesn’t have a reason to come back.”
I yank the coat free.
“Bonn—”
I’m ducking under the bar’s partition before Blanche can say another word.
This chapter of my life, I just want it to end. No loose ends, or jackets.
I hurry out of the room, up the stairs, and give Raymond a quick wave. He shouts something at me, but I don’t hear him, either. I’m already slipping into the apartment side of the building, and then outside.
Sidewalk traf
fic is calm this late in the night. I easily spot Henry’s back and a puff of smoke. I call his name and hold out his coat. He turns, a conceited expression appearing on his face.
“Couldn’t stay away, could ya?” He closes the distance between us in three giant steps. “I knew you’d be back for more.”
His smoky breath hits my face, and I hold my own. He reaches to stroke my cheek. My fingers tighten ’round his jacket. I take a small step back.
“No, Henry.”
At the same time, someone else shouts, “Henry!” but this voice is shriller, angrier.
Down the sidewalk is another woman, older, draped in a dark fur coat, her arm wrapped protectively ’round her belly.
“Who is this?” the woman demands, pointing at me, her whole body rocking with the motion. Her fedora shifts and she fixes it. “I’ve been wandering the streets, worried sick that you’re late, and you’ve been with her?”
“No.” Henry takes a step away from me. “I got stuck late at work, that’s all.”
“Liar!” she screams, and storms toward us.
“Gertrude,” Henry calls. “Don’t make a scene.”
“Who are you?” She comes so close she nearly bumps me with her belly. “Why do you have my husband’s jacket?” She rips it from my grasp.
Husband. Husband?
“I didn’t know he was married,” I say weakly, too stunned to say anything more intelligent. This poor woman saw me inches from her husband, with Henry ’bout to stroke my face.
“You didn’t know?” she screeches, her voice cracking. “How could you not have known he was married? He’s wearing a goddamn wedding ring.”
Henry steps closer to his wife, his hand closing ’round the woman’s arm, displaying a wedding ring that wasn’t there before. “Calm down,” he says to her. “Gertrude, this isn’t good for the baby.”
“Don’t touch me!” She rips her arm free and throws the coat in his face. He doesn’t bother to catch it, lets it fall to the sidewalk. “I knew it. I knew you were cheating. I bet you were with her that night you never came home.”
“Gertrude, honey,” Henry says, softening his voice. “We’ve already talked ’bout that. You’re confused and it’s late. Let’s go home.”
She ignores her husband, turns back to me. “Who do you think you are, you little wench? Henry is married. Henry has a baby on the way. You think ’cause you’re young and beautiful that you can have any man you want?”
“No.” I wildly shake my head, my thoughts frantic and unfocused. “I’m not like that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The woman starts weeping, her face falling into her hands.
I want to reach for her, comfort her.
Henry does, and she shakes him off. “Don’t touch me!”
For the first time, Henry looks at me. His expression shocks me, as if he’s mad at me, as if all of this is my fault. His crooked tooth shows within his snarl, and there’s nothin’ endearing ’bout it.
“Tell her!” I scream at him. “Tell her the truth!”
“Honey, this girl was only returning my jacket.” He bends to pick up his coat and puts it over his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll take you home.”
“No.” She lowers her hands, exposing red, angry eyes. “No, I’m going to my sister’s.” She pins me with another menacing glare. “You can have him.”
“Please, Gertrude,” I say, hoping the use of her name will sound more sincere. “Listen to me. It’s not like that. We’re not together, I swear.”
“Then why were you close enough to kiss my husband?” She stares at me, waiting for a response.
I—I can’t form words to answer that question. My head’s too balled up to know what to say.
Part of me is relieved when she flees, running down the sidewalk with one hand under her belly, her hat flying off.
Henry takes a puff of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into my face. “You were a mistake. A mistake from the minute I laid eyes on you.”
He jogs after his wife, calling Gertrude’s name and swooping her hat off the sidewalk.
I stand there, fury and disbelief and shame radiating through me. I press my fingers into the corners of my eyes to keep tears from falling.
Taking a deep breath, I hold the air in my lungs, my chest quivering.
I exhale, trying to breathe out every essence and memory of Henry. My breath hitches, and I know it’s from the way his wife’s hand shook as she protectively clutched her belly. I turn back toward the apartment building’s door, certain that visual will stay with me for months to come.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a subtle movement.
My stomach plummets before my mind fully registers who’s standing only a few feet away.
Roy.
16
Roy and I stare at each other, both at a loss for words.
He simply stands there, his clothes seeming baggy, his face seeming droopy. His hand hangs limply at his side, holding a piece of paper.
“Roy,” I say shakily, and step closer. “How much of that did you hear?”
He makes me wait for what feels like an hour for his stern response: “Enough.”
That single word is packed with so much anger. I wring my hands. “I can explain.”
“Of course you can. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”
“No, no,” I say. “You’re not stupid. I am.”
“That may be the only thing we can agree on right now.”
His words push me back a step. I struggle to meet his gaze. “I deserve that. But Henry is nobody.”
“Henry?” Roy’s eyes get bigger. “You’re on a first-name basis?” He looks away, back. Roy gestures behind me, to the spot where Henry and I argued, the brownness of his irises seeming darker. “I guess you would be. Who is he, Bonnelyn? Is that the guy Hazel caught you with?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Go figure. Even Blanche has too much self-respect to be with a fella like that.”
His words sting, but I deserve it. I deserve getting caught, getting yelled at. Still, I take a step forward, trying to make our conversation more intimate, and give Roy what he deserves: the truth.
“I ain’t at the diner anymore. I’m a bar-back at a speakeasy. It’s called Doc’s.” I wait for Roy’s face to change at the admission of my secrets, but it doesn’t. “And that guy, he comes in. But he’s nobody. I told him today to leave me be.”
“And before today?”
I swallow, searching for the right words. “He was just someone at Doc’s. I didn’t know he has a wife, I swear.”
“Him having a wife is a different matter. Who is he to you? He’s obviously more than someone.”
I blink my eyes closed, hold ’em that way while I collect my thoughts. A tear slips out. Normally Roy would leap forward and wipe that tear away. Not today. I do it myself, and say, “We flirted a little. I liked the attention he gave me. I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Roy. I love you.”
“What kind of attention?” Roy asks, his voice dangerously low.
“I don’t know. He said nice things to me.”
Everything ’bout that sounds lame, downplayed. Roy’s face mimics my sentiment. “So what did you do with him?”
I reach for Roy, but he twists, avoiding my hand, and I insist, “He’s nothin’—”
“Stop sayin’ he’s nothin’. Obviously he’s something, if I caught you arguing with him and his poor, pregnant wife. What did you do with him, Bonnelyn?”
I reluctantly respond, barely more than a whisper, “He kissed me once. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I’m so sorry.”
“He kissed you?”
I nod.
“And you just stood there? An innocent bystander?”
My chest quivers. “No.”
Roy runs his hand through his hair. He’s silent, thinking.
I pick at a bead on my dress. “I’m so sorry ’bout the past few months and for lying to cover everything up. I w
as afraid if I told you the truth, you’d be upset. And I needed the money—it was always ’bout the money.” I unsuccessfully reach for him again. I end up hugging myself, trying to rid myself of the chill I feel, from both the air and Roy. “I did this for us, ’cause I wanted to create a better life for you and me.”
He steps backwards, shaking his head. “No, don’t you dare do that. Don’t say we’re standing here ’cause of your feelings for me. It’s the opposite, Bonnelyn.”
“I’ll apologize a million times if I have to. Please forgive me. We can get past this.”
“You lied, Bonnelyn. You kissed someone else. How could you have done that if you truly wanted to be with me?”
“I—”
“I don’t know if I can get past that. I’ve been a fool, trying to convince myself that you running off with Blanche was nothin’, your new look and how you’ve been acting was nothin’, the rumors were nothin’.” He looks beyond me, down the sidewalk, as if he’s picturing poor, pregnant Gertrude. “Hell, this is worse than the rumors. But I just kept telling myself, ‘This is Bonnelyn, the Bonnelyn you’ve wanted to marry since you were a boy.’”
“That doesn’t have to change. Please, don’t let that change.” But even as I say it, I know I’m not that Bonnelyn anymore, and I so desperately want Roy to get to know the Bonnelyn I’ve become.
“It’s too late,” Roy says.
“No, it’s not. It’s not too late.”
“God, it’s been so easy for you, hasn’t it?”
I shake my head. This hasn’t been easy. Not at all. “Roy—”
“I go to work all night, you come here.” He lets out a long, controlled breath. “This whole time, I’m none the wiser.”
“I wanted to tell you. Come inside with me. I’ll show you everything. I’ll—”
“Here’s the thing I don’t get, Bonn. Why did you even ask me to come tonight, if that jerk also comes here?”
“What?”
Roy waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t even bother answering. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters anymore. I shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have written this.” He holds up the piece of paper I forgot he was holding.
Becoming Bonnie Page 14
