After the Fall

by Brad Graber

  “But what about your foster family?”

  Barney sighed. “They think I’m going to visit a cousin. They even gave me money to buy the ticket. I told them that I’d check in with them every day. But to be honest . . . I think they were kind of relieved to see the back of my head.”

  She suddenly pulled away, realizing the situation. “But where will you stay in Ohio?”

  “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I just sort of decided to do this at the very last minute. Packed a bag, bought a ticket, and here I am. I guess I can crash on Barbra’s uncle’s couch. I’m sure they’ll find room for an adorable runaway.”

  “Barney,” she said warmly, slipping her arm into his as she nestled close, “Barbra’s no longer talking to me.”

  “Why?”

  “We had a fight. Something silly. She said I wasn’t a friend and I couldn’t spend the week with her.”

  “Oh,” he waved a hand. “She’ll forget all about that when we get to Ohio. She probably just needs some time alone. I bet, wherever she is now, she’s regretting every word.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Sure. Absolutely.”

  Rikki wondered if he was right.

  ◆

  As the train approached Toledo, Rikki had already been up for an hour. It was 6:15 in the morning. Barney had disappeared some twenty minutes earlier, saying he was off to the restroom. As Rikki checked around the seat for her belongings, she worried that Barney would miss the stop entirely.

  Where can he be?

  She pulled down her travel bag from the overhead rack, dropping it onto Barney’s seat. She’d spent a long night worrying. They’d both tried to talk to Barbra but with no luck. She was being bratty and had no intention of taking them along with her, even though, for a moment, Barney had said he thought he’d broken through. “But when she heard you had to come along too, all bets were off. If it was only me, I definitely could have convinced her. She kept saying. ‘You have a roundtrip ticket . . . just go home.’” He laughed at the absurdity of their predicament. “All these hours on a train to Ohio, sitting up, and we have no place to go for Christmas Eve. So much for the well-planned journey. It kind of reminds me of Mary and Joseph.”

  Rikki wished it was funny. All she felt was irritation. And after this, she knew her friendship with Barbra was over. No matter what their history, she had no intention of ever talking to Barbra again. That was certain.

  “Over here,” waved Barney as he came up the aisle. “Man, the crowds are intense. Are you hungry?”

  She nodded.

  He miraculously produced a banana from his pocket. “Pretty cool, hey? Someone left it on a table in the dining car.”

  “Is that where you were?”

  “Well,” he said smiling, “this banana didn’t come from the men’s room.”

  She laughed, for the moment forgetting their dilemma. It was easy to do when staring into Barney’s blue eyes. All troubles seemed to fade in his presence.

  “Well, I guess we’d better get a move on,” he suggested as he slipped into his leather coat. I bet it’s plenty cold out.”

  He buttoned the top of her jacket, knotting the long red and white scarf he’d worn earlier about her.

  “But where should we go?” she said. “Back to Queens?”

  “Hell, no,” Barney said, linking his arm in hers. “We’re on an adventure. It’s too early to turn around now. The world is ours. We can go anywhere. Do anything.”

  Rikki smiled. He was joking. Being lighthearted, unaware that she had $300 in her pocket.

  Barney’s voice assumed an air of confidence. “So where would you like to go?” he asked, pulling her into a hug.

  Rikki gave the request genuine consideration. “Well,” she began, “I wouldn’t mind going back to Michigan. That’s where I was raised.”

  “Michigan, huh?”

  “Sure,” Rikki said with growing excitement. “To my old neighborhood. I’d love to see my old house.”

  “Do you remember the address?”

  “Why, sure.”

  “But I thought you had no memory.”

  “It’s the strangest thing,” Rikki admitted. “I remember Michigan. Going to school, the house, and my old neighborhood. It’s my mother who I can’t remember.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “I know,” Rikki said, her expression slipping from sheer joy to sorrow.

  “Oh, no,” Barney said, lifting her chin. “Don’t be sad. We’ll figure it out. You’ll see.”

  Rikki pressed her face to his chest and once again heard the voice. Don’t be sad, honey. I’m always with you. It was El.

  ◆

  Barney rubbed his hands together. “How much money do you have?”

  “Where are your gloves?” Rikki asked. “It’s freezing out here.”

  Barney shoved his hands in his pocket. “How much money?”

  “Enough,” Rikki answered, unwilling to reveal the exact amount of cash. “Why?”

  “I looked up the schedule, and we can take a later train to Dearborn.”

  Rikki offered a blank stare. She’d never heard of Dearborn. “Where’s that?”

  “In Michigan,” Barney said. “Near Detroit. You miss Michigan. You wonder what happened to your mother’s friends. Your friends. I say, let’s go. Let’s go visit where you used to live. We have a week before we need to be back. Visit the neighbors—find those old friends. Find out why you haven’t heard from anyone since your mom died.”

  Rikki felt both excited and afraid. “What if they don’t want to see me? What if they’re all away for Christmas? I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Now come on,” Barney answered. “This is the moment. Look at us. We’re in Toledo with no place to go. Barbra’s long gone. That little bitch barely gave us a backward glance. We’re on our own, and I think,” he said, eyes squinting in the morning sun, “we should make the most of this.”

  Rikki grabbed his hand and warmed it in hers. This was the ideal opportunity. Rita was hundreds of miles away. She couldn’t stop her. Besides, Rita thought she was with the Winer family. “Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s do it.”

  “All right!” Barney shouted. “That’s my girl. Being all brave. That’s the Rikki that I like.”

  Rikki laughed. “But the doors to the train depot are locked.” A red sign hung on the door, sporting the face of a clock. The little hand on the nine. “We can’t wait out here for hours. We’ll freeze to death.”

  Barney pulled Rikki into an embrace as a yellow taxi cab pulled up. A dark-skinned man sporting a black ski hat and a dark beard and mustache leaned over the seat and called from the open passenger window, “Hey, you two. Need a ride?”

  Rikki and Barney looked at each other. Barney spoke. “Is there someplace open for breakfast nearby?”

  “Sure,” the cabbie said. “Not far at all.”

  Rikki nodded.

  The cabbie hopped out and rushed to the rear of the taxi, loading their bags into the trunk. “Nice and cold,” he said, his words creating a white cloud. “Where are you two from?” he asked as the cab pulled away from the curb.

  “New York City,” they answered in unison.

  He turned to look at them. “Ah, the Big Apple. I’m from Bangladesh. Almost as crowded.”

  Rikki and Barney looked at each other.

  “You haven’t heard of it?”

  Barney nodded. “Sure, but we don’t know anything about it.”

  “Why should you?” the cabbie said as he eyed them in the rearview mirror. “You don’t live there. Visiting family here for the holidays?”

  “It’s kind of a lark,” Rikki explained. “We’re catching another train in two hours.”

  The cabbie nodded his head. “Detroit.”

  “Why, yes,” Rikki said, surprised.

  “I know all trains passing through. You need to if you drive a cab.”

  “Your English is great,” Barney observed.

  “Oh, thank y
ou. In Bangladesh, we all want to come to America. You can do anything here.” He cleared his throat. “Even at your age, we all want to come.”

  As they turned a corner, Rikki could see the blinking lights of the restaurant. It was nothing more than a white wooden structure with a door in the center flanked by a window on either side. The neon sign flashed red: Good Eats.

  “This is it,” the cabbie said, his hand extended as he pulled the taxi over.

  Barney looked at Rikki and then back to the cabbie. “Isn’t there a McDonald’s nearby?”

  “McDonald’s?” the man shouted, his hand still pointing at the front door. “Why would anyone want a McDonald’s when you have this wonderful place?”

  “Are you sure?” Barney asked.

  “Absolutely,” the cabbie said, before giving Barney and Rikki an odd look. “Have you two done something wrong? Are you running away?”

  “Oh, we’re not running away,” Rikki said somewhat amused. “Not at all.”

  “Okay,” the man said, his dark brown eyes projecting concern. “You go in and get some breakfast and I will come back later for you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Barney said. “I’m sure we can grab another cab.”

  “This is Toledo,” the cabbie explained. “You can’t just grab a cab. You need to call for one. So, I will come back.”

  Barney leaned forward. “Okay, well, what do we owe you for the ride?”

  “Nothing,” the man said waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

  Rikki scooted forward. “Oh, but that isn’t right.”

  “Okay, then. You can pay me after you eat breakfast,” the man said. “We’ll make it a round trip fare of five dollars. Does that seem all right?”

  Both teens nodded.

  “You know, when I first arrived in Toledo, I had no idea where I was. I wasn’t much older than you two. Only eighteen when I left my family. I had an uncle who had a grocery store here. I worked and stayed with him. Then, he suddenly died. The grocery store closed. Kind people helped me. So, now I will help you. Go inside, have breakfast, rest, and when I return, I will take you back to the station.”

  ◆

  At the age of twenty-three, El found herself as an intern at Haney & Lewis, one of New York’s hippest design firms. It offered much more than home décor. With a cadre of talented artists, architects, designers, and project managers, the firm understood how to transform texture, color, lighting, and architectural symmetry into a lifestyle brand. Located in a former sweatshop, H&L retained the exposed pipes, high ceilings, and industrial windows so fashionable in Manhattan’s burgeoning loft market. The massive brick interior, carved up by movable faux walls, was a showcase to dazzle the high-end tastes of its elite clientele.

  “I think we’re going to need to work on that last name of yours,” said Bill Allington, Chief Operating Officer and Founding Partner of H&L.

  Together he and El sat in his plush office, he behind a gorgeous mahogany desk and she in an antique Victorian side chair. Allington radiated a youthful, yet sophisticated joie de vivre, even as he admitted to being in his late forties. His voice and manner so reminded El of Tony Randall that at first she thought he was putting her on with an imitation.

  “Oh,” was all that El could manage to say. “But that’s my name.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Allington acknowledged as he rubbed his chin. “Perhaps to your family,” he said with certainty, “but to our clientele . . . that name . . . is far too ethnic.” He rolled a black, shiny Mount Blanc pen between his index finger and thumb. “I know. How about Lisa Richards?”

  El was speechless.

  “Yes,” he said, “Lisa Richards. It has a solid ring to it.”

  “Mr. Allington, Richard is my brother’s name. It would be too strange.”

  “No,” he said with self-satisfaction. “It’s perfect. You’ll never forget it.”

  “Couldn’t I at least keep my first name?” El asked.

  Mr. Allington paused and then began to search his desk, finally retrieving El’s resume. After a moment he looked up with a flash of what El could only think he believed was creative inspiration. “How about we spell your name E-l-l-e, like the magazine. Oh yes, that’s very elegant.”

  El pondered the change. “Well, I guess that will work.”

  “There’s no guessing about it. Young lady,” Mr. Allington said boldly and with all the dramatic flair he could muster, “you’re about to be reborn.”

  Elle’s stomach lurched. If this was her rebirth, she’d hoped it might come with a bit more money than an intern’s stipend.

  ◆

  After breakfast, Rikki and Barney found the cabbie had been true to his word; he’d returned and was waiting outside of the restaurant. “Did you like the food?” he asked as they settled into the back seat. He turned around and flashed a bright smile as he accepted the five dollars that Barney offered.

  “Yes,” Rikki answered, mesmerized by the man’s beautiful white teeth. “Very much.”

  “Oh, I’m glad,” he said, shifting his attention to Barney.

  “Yes, yes,” Barney stuttered. “Yes, it was very nice.”

  Rikki couldn’t believe the man’s smile could get any wider and yet with Barney’s affirmation, Rikki could now see a gold molar in the rear of the cabbie’s mouth.

  “That is so important. You see, I own that restaurant.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

  “You do?” Rikki said. “How can you be a cabbie and own a restaurant?”

  “I can do both,” the man answered matter-of-factly. With an index finger held up, he emphasized his point. “You can do whatever you want in America. Work two jobs. Work three. My cousin, who came over three years ago, manages it for me. His wife was your waitress.”

  Rikki nodded, suddenly realizing that the husband and wife were similarly ethnic. “Well, they are very good at what they do,” she offered.

  “Family is so important,” the cabbie declared as he shook his head back and forth. “We must take care of our own. Now, it is still early. Do you want to go back and wait for the train? Or, maybe, I can drive you to Detroit. It isn’t that far.”

  “Drive us?” Rikki lurched forward. “Oh, no. We can’t afford that.” Rikki looked over at Barney.

  “How much would you charge?” Barney asked, taking ownership of the situation.

  The man rubbed his chin. “Just a bit more than the price of two train tickets,” the man haggled. “You won’t have to wait for the train, and I’ll make sure that you get to your destination.”

  “No,” Barney wavered. “I’m not sure . . .”

  “You leave it to me,” the cabbie said. “I will only charge you one hundred dollars. That’s less than those two train tickets. And I’ll take you directly to your destination.”

  Rikki considered the terms. “But why would you do that?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Do what?” the man said, confused. “This is something that I must do. I can’t let two young people wander alone. No,” he confirmed, wiping away any doubt with the wave of a hand, “Samir will see you safely there. It will be my honor. And please, call me Sammy.”

  Rikki exchanged worried looks with Barney. That was one-third of the cash she had on hand. Though she still had Rita’s credit card, she was reluctant to use it. “Barney,” she whispered, “do you have any money?”

  He leaned close to her. “I have my return Amtrak ticket and the fifty dollars that I earned last summer cutting grass.”

  Rikki couldn’t imagine anywhere in Queens with enough grass to even merit such a job.

  “I know you’re good kids,” Sammy continued. “I can tell. So, you will do me this honor. It’s my way of playing with it forward.”

  Barney laughed. “You mean paying it forward.”

  “Of course,” Sammy jovially answered. “That’s what I said.”

  9

  Lil examined her figure in the studio mirror as she stretched in preparation for the 6:00 a.m. Christma
s Eve class. Though things had certainly shifted, she’d maintained her lean shape. I couldn’t very well be a pudgy yoga instructor, she thought as her eyes strayed to her feet, the one part of her body that had suffered the most wear and tear over the years.

  There had been a time when she’d had beautiful feet.

  Toes well-shaped and nesting together like a lovely fan in the closed position. But as a child, her mother wanted her to study ballet. Five years of en pointe had taken the soft skin and hardened it. Thick calluses had formed as a protective layer. And when she was fifteen, enrolled in ballet class, she began to bleed as the nails shredded under the weight of her adolescent growth spurt. The blood seeped out of the lining of her toe shoes and onto the highly polished floor, causing her to lose balance as she performed a chassé, sending her tumbling onto her rump and breaking her right ankle.

  Though she never danced again, her feet had been hopelessly marred. Going for a pedicure caused intense anxiety. She thought of her feet as claws, eagle talons that, in her professional life as an instructor, she needed to expose, all the while being ever mindful and self-conscious of what others must think.

  She’d been grateful that for the longest time Harry had not noticed her feet. She’d worked hard to make sure they were always covered up. Even in bed, while other women might keep their bras on due to insecurities about the shape or size of their breasts, Lil was focused on her feet. The mere sight of them dangling on the end of her graceful legs killed the mood.

  “Do you always wear socks in bed?” Harry had finally asked one night, which had almost caused her heart to stop.

  “My feet are always cold,” she muttered, hoping to quickly change the subject.

  “Really?” he said, sitting up in bed and pulling her closer to him. “Maybe I should rub them. It could be poor circulation.”

  Instead of giving into the moment, she pulled away. “I really should be going,” she’d said, feet now on the floor as she gave her hair a quick shake. “I’ve got an early morning class tomorrow.”

  “You know you can stay,” Harry had offered, though it sounded to Lil half-hearted.

  She let out a sharp laugh. “Oh Harry—you don’t want me here when you wake up. When I stayed in the guest room, I saw the look on your face that next morning. You nearly had a heart attack.” She slipped on her panties. “And besides, how would Beetle feel about that?” she teased. She looked over at Beetle, who was tucked into a tight crescent, fast asleep in his crate by the bed.