Brooklyn Wars Page 14
When I said, ‘Like what?’ they told me not to be fresh with them! Mama cried and prayed. Papa said, ‘I’d rather see you dead.’ !!!”
“I cried and shouted and threatened to go live with relatives. Mama tried to get the priest from Sacred Heart to talk to me!!!
Finally my favorite older brother, Frankie, came home from basic training, and Mama told everyone, ahead of time, that the fighting had to stop while he was there. He was going to have a good visit before he got on that troop ship! She made threats about the evil eye but she doesn’t really believe all that. But I was so mad I didn’t care. I told him, and he told them. Boy, did he! He smacked the table and said if they want all the boys like him to come home, everyone had to pitch in and do what was needed. Then he looked at our parents and said, ‘What’s the matter with you? You think you didn’t raise her to be a good girl? You think she would play the puttana?’ They gasped when he said it. Dear diary, it’s a bad word that he’s not supposed to say in front of me.
“Then he said, ‘You think she doesn’t know how to behave herself? She’s not moving far away where you can’t supervise her. And besides, I taught her a good uppercut, so she could take of herself if anyone tried anything.’”
And Mama finally said, ‘How do you say no to the boy who’s going overseas with a gun?”
Then she wrote about the first few days on the job, how stupid she felt with the tools, how she’d made some friends, how the men at the yard stared at them. She wrote, “Some fool, again, shouted something rude and I had it. I gave it right back. That settled it. I smacked my hands together and got back to work. And one of those guys even gave me a thumbs-up. I hope my brothers would be proud.”
I was proud. You go, girl, I thought.
Chris was home. I heard her burst in. She called, “Mom, what is this wrapping paper? Did Grandma send me a present? It’s not even my birthday.”
She stood at the stairs with the brown paper in her hand.
I came out of my office with the diary.
“She sent you this. There’s a note tucked in the front.”
“You opened it. I see my name right here. What’s up with that?”
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t look carefully and assumed it was for me.” She looked ready for an argument and I redirected it. “But look at what it is. A real find!”
I handed it to her. “Watch out for the leather flaking off the cover.”
She looked it over, carelessly ignoring the tiny chips drifting onto her shirt. “She sent it to me for my project.”
“Yes, I saw her note. That’s when I knew I had goofed.”
“Mom, it’s a diary. Philomena’s. Do you know how great this is? No one will have anything this…this…is…so…so…”
“Personal?”
She nodded. “It’s more than history books. You know? This was the real Philomena’s. And now it’s mine. Wow. Maybe I could do a monologue of it? Or film it? We need to have a part that is using our imaginations. And no one will have anything like this for their project.”
“Well, they might. There are other diaries, and letters, too.”
“Pfft. I know. Mel has her great-grandparents’ wedding photo. And they were married right at Church of the Pilgrims. You know it? Down the street from school?”
“Yes, of course I do. It’s a famous old church.”
“And one of the guys, Tom Greeley? He actually lives in a house that was his family’s for six generations. Naturally he’s writing about that. Even though he hates it and wants to live on a farm. But still. This! Philomena’s own diary.” She jumped up. “I have to go call Grandma.”
“Chris!” She stopped. “Let me read it too. Okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure. Why not? You could make a copy.”
“I would love to but no. Copying is bad for something fragile. Just read fast, okay? Fast! Cause I’m dying to dig into it.”
As she walked away, I heard her saying. “Grandma? You are the best. The diary will put my project over the top. Did I tell you there would be an exhibit of the best projects? What? You want to come? And now mine…” And then her voice faded.
I smiled. I was raising a young historian. Even if she didn’t know it yet, she had that history geek gene. She’d probably deny it if I told her. She thinks of herself as an artist.
One of these days I should figure out what colleges offered strength in both and nudge her to apply to a bunch of them. Let her figure it out for herself, but don’t let her go someplace where she only has one choice. Is it next year we start some college visiting? What do I know? I went to college across the street from where I went to high school.
For now, all I needed to think about was how to get that diary out of Chris’ hands. We could share. I’d taught her about sharing toys in her toddlerhood. I hoped she remembered.
Chapter Fifteen
A peaceful evening. It was about time I had one. Chris claimed she had a big after-school snack and wasn’t hungry. She stayed in her room, saying she had work to do. I knew there would be a late-night creep into the kitchen for a sandwich or some ice cream, but that was all right. It meant I could have a sandwich for supper myself. I read some documents for my job, lying on the couch, and fell asleep, still on the couch. I was happy not to hear the words “birthday party” tonight.
My mind was full of things I did not want to think about: nice Lieutenant Ramos and his possible dinner invitation. Joe’s face at the restaurant. Chris’ birthday. My advisor’s deadlines, looming like thunderclouds. With the need to begin job hunting following right along after everything else. Or before everything else?
I could not even sort them out in order of importance.
Text from Darcy:
Early walk in park tomorrow. Pick you up at 7:30
No. Not that early. It was still cold. It was barely dawn. No. But yes, because Darcy doesn’t have a lot of free time and I needed to talk.
That was when I fell into my catnap, escaping. Only Chris’ rustling around in the refrigerator woke me up.
“You okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine. Exploring a bedtime snack. Do we have any salami?” She looked up and giggled. “Mom, go to bed. You know sleeping on the couch isn’t good for you.”
I nodded, wondering where she got that idea. Probably from me saying it to her. I nodded again and sleepwalked up to bed.
At seven in the morning, I was in my sweats from yesterday, drinking my second cup of coffee, when Darcy hammered on the door.
“Come on, lazy bones. I see your light is on.”
She was on my stoop, dressed in brilliant blue spandex running gear, cheeks pink, hair covered by a becoming cap. She was running in place, all bouncy and bright-eyed.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You only hate mornings, but that’s not news. Anyway, I am off to Provo, Utah, tonight, so this was the only time. Lace up your running shoes and let’s go.”
Who am I to argue with such an impressive figure? I grumbled but I laced, right after one more gulp of coffee.
“I’m sorry.” She urged me out into the bright, cold morning. “But you know this is good for you.”
“You’re not sorry. You sound like Joe. He thinks exercise is the cure for anything that ails me.”
“And it often is. How is Joe, by the way?” Her look told me she heard every mixed emotion in my voice.
We covered the two long blocks to the park before I answered with a brilliant, “I don’t know.”
A single raised eyebrow. How did she do that? “His life is very, umm. Right now, it’s very complicated.” I could barely explain. “And I don’t know how to handle it. I guess.”
“Complicated, how? Not another woman? He’s more into you than you believe. I can tell.”
I wasn’t going to touch that. Not now, not for anything.
“He has family problems.”
“Joe has a family? Tell me all. An ex-wife? A secret child?”
“What? No! Stop kidding. A sister. And he’s not acting like himself at all. And I can’t even focus on it, because I have too much else on my own mind.”
I spilled everything. We walked at a killing pace and it still took us to the lake deep in the park and back out the handsome stone entrance. As always, she had crisp, problem-solving answers. I guess that’s what being a vice president in the advertising business teaches you. Or maybe that’s what got her the big job and corner office in the first place.
“So, Chris. Local restaurants with party rooms. Not expensive. I’ll send you names. Not glamorous but put up a lot of balloons and loud music and no one will notice. A high school friend of my son has a band. I’ll put in a word, you’ll get a family and friends price. And let your father help! Why not? It makes him happy and Chris happy, too
“You think?”
“Come on. Of course. And this cute cop? If you want to, have dinner. But you don’t even seem to know what you want. So figure it out first. It’s not rocket science, honey.”
“If it was that easy, would I be talking about it here on a freezing November morning? While exercising?”
“Point taken.” She stopped me and put her hands on my shoulders. “Joe has been a great friend, but only you know what he means to you. But…”
“I knew there would be a ‘but’.”
“But, as to his family crisis, how often has he been there for you?”
“Oh. I can’t count that high.”
“My point exactly. So?”
“I’d be there for him if I knew how. But I don’t know and he’s. Not. Telling. Me. He’s keeping me out. And honestly, I don’t have the energy to figure it all out on my own. To be a sweet woman soothing his rumpled feathers.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “You’re smart. You’ll work it out. Why don’t you look convinced by my logic?”
“Because there’s more.”
When I told her about my work, the two-pronged pressure of my dissertation and the looming need to make some actual plans she grew very serious. My other issues might have seemed slightly amusing to her. Not this one.
“So tell me if I have this right. You’ve put in all these years with no idea about what to do when you finished?”
“No! Of course not.” She stared at me. “All right. Yes, maybe. It sounds so dumb when you say it like that!”
She gave me a small hug.
“It was like this.” I needed to explain it. “When I started I was only looking for a masters, to upgrade my teaching license. More money. And then I got interested and I got encouragement, and I somehow ended up committing to the PhD program.”
“Somehow? It was an accident?”
“That’s how it felt at the time. Like, I would go part-time and Chris was so little and I never truly believed I would ever get to the end.”
“And now it’s here, staring you right in the face?”
“That’s what Dr. Adams is saying.”
“So what have you concluded? Isn’t the usual career path into college teaching?”
“If you’re very, very lucky. The academic job market is bad, seriously bad. Or so I hear. Plus, I can’t pick up and go to any old place they offer a paycheck. Until Chris finishes high school, I need to be right here.”
“And Joe?”
I nodded. Slightly. Yes, he was a factor too. No, I did not want to talk about him.
“Well, honey, you need to start networking. In fact, you are way overdue. Believe me. I don’t know about dissertation writing but I do know about job hunting. I hope you know enough to start with your own department? Talk to everyone! Get advice. Get support. And the history museum where they love you but can’t hire you? So get to work! I’ll send you some good articles.” She hugged me again. “It will not be fun, but honest, it will turn out fine in the end.”
“Am I babbling on about me, me, me? How are you? Start with Provo, of all places.”
“It’s a huge tech center. You’ve heard that?”
“Uh. Maybe.”
She sighed. “I forgot you don’t live in modern times. Anyway, I am pitching a client. But yes, Provo.” She sighed again. “The middle of nowhere. They promise me I can get alcohol in the local restaurants, but I’m not sure. Isn’t my job a whirlwind of glamour?”
I laughed.
“My real news is that there is going to be a wedding. And about damn time!” Darcy’s children were all grown and in serious relationships. “Luke and Cassie are finally making it legal. Next summer, on a Caribbean beach.”
I hugged her. “You must be so excited. Is there a lot for you to do?”
“Nope. Mother of the groom. The old rule is keep your mouth shut and wear beige. Not that I’d wear beige on a beach.”
“Or ever.”
“Right. Never. I’m thinking very expensive resort wear. Maybe a silk caftan. But yes, finally, dancing at a wedding with my kid.”
By then we were back at my house.
“Thank you. You helped straighten me out.”
“Glad to do it. Honestly? It’s nice to have company on my morning exercise. Let’s do it again.”
“Oh, ha-ha. But keep me up to date on the wedding plans, okay?” I smiled. “And have a great trip to Utah.”
“Ha-ha right back. I must go home and pack now. Boring clothing, believe me.”
“But stylish.”
“Yes, walking that fine line, stylish enough to impress but not enough to make them hate me. Business suit but Manolo shoes, maybe.”
Now back at home, I had a plan firmly in my mind: support Joe as he has supported me. Figure out what he needs. I can do that. At least, I can be kind. Be there. Just be there. Darcy was the source of all wisdom in my life, somewhere between the mother I lost, the big sister I never had, the older cousins I’d outgrown.
My improved mood lasted about thirty minutes. Joe called and thirty minutes is how long it took him to get to my house.
It went downhill before he even stepped through the open door. He stood on the stoop, arms folded, his normally friendly face all storm clouds.
“What is going on with you?”
“Come in and sit down? Do you want coffee? Or something to eat?”
He stepped in then, but did not sit down. He leaned against the now closed door.
“No coffee, just some answers. I’m serious.”
I sucked in a breath of air.
“I can see that you are, but I honestly have no idea what you are talking about.”
Honestly, I did have an idea, but I was being cautious. No room for misunderstandings today.
“That cop.”
“He has a real name and you know it.” I did not like his tone of voice. “And a title too.”
“I don’t care about his name or his rank. I care about who he is to you.” He stopped himself but then continued. “Are you dating him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I know what I saw. Twice.”
I’ve known him for ten years. He never acted like this. Advanced jerk. Never. And I sure did not like it. I did not like the way my heart was beating and my hands were sweating.
“And exactly what is it that you think you saw?”
“Don’t play games with me, Erica. Laughing, having fun. The way you looked at him.”
“Well, he’s nice to look at. So there! And we were talking and laughing. So what? And what makes you think you get to interrogate me, anyway?”
He looked stunned.
“
I don’t get to question you? But he does, that cop?”
“It’s his job, but it’s not yours.”
“Erica.” His voice softened. “You’re right, a little. But you and me? I haven’t been dating anyone else and I do get to ask what the hell you are doing.”
“You do? You think you do? No one does, not even you.”
He walked out without another word, and my fury turned into angry tears. Even in my self-righteous fog, I knew I was not altogether right. Okay. Mostly, I was not right. I probably should not have said Ramos was nice to look at. Didn’t I know it was oil on the flames? So much for my plan to be kind.
But he hadn’t made it easy, coming in with that attitude. I was too upset, then, to wonder where that attitude was coming from. Or to consider how childish my own behavior was.
My own child came down, bed hair all wild, rubbing her eyes. “Did I hear you and Joe? Shouting? Or did I dream it?”
“Nice of you to get up and join the world.” I was, to say the least, still angry at everyone.
“Well, gee, Mom. It’s only…”
“Noon!”
“So?”
“Go have some breakfast. Or lunch. Something. Wait! Why aren’t you in school?”
“School-wide testing. And mine are tomorrow.” She squinted at me. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, it was Joe, or yes, you were shouting, or yes you didn’t answer?”
“All. And we’re not talking about it.”
She looked wary but her eyes opened up. “Are you crying?”
“No!” It was not a lie. I had been crying, but I wasn’t now.
She headed back upstairs with a dramatic sigh.
I went into the kitchen to make some lunch, forgot what I was doing after I put bread and mayonnaise on the counter. I went back to my computer, but the words blurred on the screen. I started for the stairs to get Chris up for real and then thought, “Why bother?”