by Vanda
“I think this place is closing,” I whispered. “The proprietor has his hat on.”
“He always has his hat on,” Henry said, taking off his own hat. “If the Germans come and he has to run, he wants to be sure to have his hat. Hey, Gus, I brought you some business.”
“I can see that,” Gus grumbled. “Sit down and quit makin’ pronouncements. I’ll be right with you.”
We took seats at one of the Formica tables. “So … coffee?”
“Ya know, I really don’t like coffee very much. Sorry.”
“No sorry about it. What about tea?”
“No! I hate tea!” I sounded like he’d just offered me a cup of arsenic.
“Easy. You don’t have to have tea. Honest. Pie?”
“Actually a Coke would be fine. ”
“Aren’t you sick of Coke after being at the Canteen all evening? I know. What about a black and white soda?”
“A black and white soda. Finnegan’s.”
“What?”
“It’s silly. My grandmother used to be a waitress at a place called Finnegan’s, and sometimes, I’d go there at the end of her shift and have a black and white soda and we’d talk.”
“You’re really still a little girl, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You’re a lot younger than me, though. Am I robbing the cradle?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“That’s not so much older. I’m nineteen.”
Gus stood at our table. “So, what’s it gonna be?”
“Well, you know what I want, and a black and white soda for the lady.”
Gus grunted and left.
“You come in here a lot?” I asked.
“I come here to write. Gets me out of the house.”
“You’re a writer?”
“Well, some days I think I am.”
“Not another writer.”
“You had a bad experience with a writer? Just my luck. What was his name?”
“Danny.”
“Tell me.”
“You know, you kinda look like that guy in Frankenstein .”
“Note: The girl does not want to talk about Danny. Which guy? Not the guy with the stiff legs and the screws in his head.”
“No. That was the monster. You don’t look like a monster.”
“Phew. Is it the doctor? You know the guy who—” Henry’s arm flailed at the air. “It’s alive! It’s alive!”
“No.” I laughed. “The other guy.”
“The little one who’s all hunched over with crooked eyes and a crooked mouth?” Henry hunched over, squinting his eyes and scowling.
“No,” I laughed harder. “That’s the doctor’s assistant. It’s the guy who tries to help Dr. Frankenstein. Not the old one, the young one. He’s good-looking.”
“Is he?”
“He watches out for Dr. Frankenstein’s fiancée. You look a little like him. Same dark hair with the part on the side. Only you don’t have a mustache, and you have broader shoulders.”
“Ya think so?” He wiggled his shoulders. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
He reached across the table to put his hand on mine. I pulled my hand away .
“One coffee, black,” Gus said, placing a cup of coffee in front of Henry. “And one black and white soda for the lady.” It had gobs of whipped cream on top.
“I can’t believe I’m having this big thing and you’re only having that.”
“Enjoy.” He took a sip of his coffee.
“I intend to.” I tore the end of the straw paper off with my teeth and blew the paper at his face.
He caught it. “You are a kid. Tell me about home.”
I stuck my straw in the soda. “Nothing much to tell. I grew up in Huntington, Long Island in a house not far from the potato fields. A pretty usual story.”
“And you visited Grandma, the waitress at—where was that?”
“Finnegan’s. A soda shop like this. But bigger. My mother had problems when she was little, so my grandma had to work to get money to take her to specialists. Grandma kinda resented it ’cause all her friends were housewives and never worked. She would’ve rather have been knitting or crocheting big fancy quilts. I have a really nice one on my bed. She never used a pattern, just what she made up in her mind. But she rarely had time to do it ’cause of all the shifts she had to work. And I have no idea why I’m telling you this. Tell me about your family.”
“One mother, one father, two younger brothers, both in the Army Air Corps. I was raised in Minnesota on a farm. Mom and Dad are still there. My brothers, father, and I all flew the old biplanes, crop dusting. We fell in love with flying; hence, my brothers enlisted in the Army Air Corps and I would have too, if … well, you know, but I’d rather listen to you. Tell me more about Grandma.”
“Grandma and I were pals. On weekends I’d go over to her house and she’d let me bring my friend Aggie, and we’d play tag, and hide-and-seek, and in the fall we’d rake up her leaves and—” I stopped. A cold chill rippled through my body.
“And what? Tell me about raking up the leaves.”
“It was nothing. A child’s game. Drink your coffee. It’s getting cold.” I sucked on my straw; it made a horrible sound.
“I think this is one of those awkward moments,” Henry said after a while. “But I’m not sure why. Did Danny jump in the leaves too?”
“No.” I laughed.
“So tell me about Danny. He’s my competition, isn’t he?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I knew Danny since we were children.”
“And?”
“And Dickie, Aggie, Danny, and I came here from Long Island to be in show business.”
“What happened?”
“Dickie, Aggie, and I are in show business, except Dickie’s in the navy till after the war. ”
“And Danny?”
“He’s in the army. Like everybody.”
“Not everybody.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ….”
“Danny and you didn’t separate on good terms. Did you?”
“You’re very persistent.”
“What happened?”
A picture of Danny running into Max’s parlor naked that night flashed in front of my eyes. “Nothing. Things just didn’t work out.”
“Another girl?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. No, I’m not.” He smiled his big smile and put his hand on mine. This time I didn’t pull away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Let’s dance,” Henry said, crushing his cigarette out under his good foot and leaning his cane against the wall. Music drifted out of the Canteen into the alley.
“Volunteers aren’t allowed to dance with each other.”
“Not even in the alley?”
“Well ….”
He put his arms out for me to take.
“I’m not that good at dancing.”
He looked down at his crooked foot “And what am I? Fred Astaire?”
I laughed. He put his arms around me and we danced slowly to “A Nightingale Sang in Barkley Square.” He held my body close to him and laid his cheek against the top of my head.
He stopped suddenly and looked down at me. “Miss Huffman, I like you very much.”
I looked away from him. “And I like you.” I slipped out of his arms. “But I must get back to work. Miss Cowl will think I went AWOL.” I hurried toward the door. He grabbed my hand.
“Alice. I know I’m not Danny but give me a chance. Okay?”
“Sure. I just have to go in.”
“Let’s go to a club tonight.”
“Okay.”
“You will? Oh, gosh, I thought you’d say no. I’m going to show you the best time.”
“I know you will, but I do have to go inside.”
As soon as I got back inside, I stopped short. Virginia stood near the band talking to Miss Cowl. I watched
from a distance, holding my breath, trying to read her lips. Miss Cowl listened so intently that whatever Virginia was saying had to be important.
I swaggered over to a nearby table, picked up a rag, and started wiping the table with it, straining to hear.
“Pervert,” I heard Virginia say. Miss Cowl nodded, her expression one of surprise. My heart pounded. Should I run out? Never come back? Should I confront them and deny it? My mind buzzed. Some unknown band, The Star Lights, played “Chattanooga Choo-Choo” headed up by an unknown girl singer. All around me in a blur were soldiers jitterbugging with hostesses. Everyone was so dang happy, and I was about to lose everything. I never did anything to Virginia. Why would she do this to me?
As Virginia left Miss Cowl, Miss Cowl thanked her profusely. Yeah, sure, she’s grateful for telling her about the pervert she’s got working for her. Humiliation spread over me like thick molasses. When would Miss Cowl tell me to go? Would she tell everyone about me? Would I get fired from Gimbels too? Never get another radio job? Never get any job? End up on the street living in a cardboard box?
“Alice,” Miss Cowl said, clicking her fingernails against the table I was cleaning.
“Prior to your departure this eve, will you not perambulate to my office for a brief tête–à–tête?” My breath caught in my throat, and all that came out of me was a squeak. I marched into the kitchen. I had nothing to lose.
“Virginia. I want to see you in the back room. Now.”
“Is that an order, General? Do you mind if I finish drying this dish first?”
“Don’t drag it out.”
When we got into the back room, Virginia stood near the closed door of her locker with her arms crossed over her chest.
“How dare you tell Miss Cowl about me,” I growled.
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard you use the word pervert.”
“Never . Did it ever occur to you that I wouldn’t want her to know about me or my friends either, that talking about your little meaningless foray would jeopardize all the people I care about? Think, little girl, think. Our world is a dangerous one, and I do not mean the war. We survive because we don’t talk. Ever.”
“Then what were you talking about?”
“That’s none of your business! But … Miss Cowl is acquainted with my mother. My mother, on a whim, long ago, invested in one of Miss Cowl’s theatrical productions. So totally unlike my mother. She never did it again, but she continued to be an admirer of Miss Cowl’s work, which is saying quite a bit since my mother detests actresses. I was telling Miss Cowl that my mother isn’t well. Does this explanation satisfy you, Alice ?”
I felt relieved and like a thoughtless donkey at the same time. “I’m sorry about your mother. ”
“Mother will recover. She always does.”
“But then what does Miss Cowl want to speak to me about?”
“I haven’t a clue. Now, do you want me to introduce you to Kit Cornell or not?”
“Katherine Cornell is here?” I exclaimed in totally unsophisticated excitement. “Oh, gosh, you mean there’s just one wall between her and me? She’s right out there. I think I might faint.”
“I’d expect by now that you’d be used to meeting ‘stars.’ Why all this fuss?”
“Katherine Cornell isn’t just some star. She’s the reason I’m here in the city. She changed my whole life when my nana took me to see her play. How do you know her?”
“She’s a close friend of Max’s.”
“He has all kinds of friends, right? From his days as a club owner.”
“Yes. But that’s not how he knows Kit.”
“Then how?”
“As I said, we don’t talk.”
“You don’t mean she’s—”
“We don’t talk.”
“But my nana was a very moral person.”
Virginia did introduce me to Katherine Cornell that night, and I acted like a silly giggling fool, but Miss Cornell was gracious and invited me to visit her backstage when I came to see her in Three Sisters the following week. It was hard to believe she was that type of woman. She wasn’t scary at all. When I told Virginia that Miss Cornell couldn’t be that kind ’cause she was married to Guthrie McClintic, the great theater director, Virginia simply said, “Lavender,” and walked away. Now, what was that supposed to mean?
As it turned out, Miss Cowl wanted to see me ’cause she needed someone to run the telephone room on weekends. It became my job to get some of the junior hostesses to make phone calls to the volunteers who hadn’t been showing up. Other times Miss Cowl wanted me to help schedule the entertainment, making sure we had enough of it. Finding entertainment for six hours every night was hard. But instead of wearing that silly apron as a senior hostess I got to wear an American Theater Wing pin on my blouse. It was even shaped like wings. I spent hours at the Canteen, while still working at Gimbels, auditioning for radio and plays, and going to my acting class with Mrs. Viola Cramden.
Miss Cowl had the stagehands clear out one of the back storage rooms so I could have an office. Smittie, an old guy who’d just retired, decided to make my office into a monument to his life’s work by painting it to look like a Caribbean Island with palm trees, sand, water, and some fluffy clouds.
One night, we got a donation of a few bushel baskets of cherries from a downtown greengrocer. They were just sitting on the kitchen counter, so I thought it would help my girls who’d been doing the unglamorous telephone work for two hours feel appreciated if I brought them some.
I left the room and headed toward the kitchen when a familiar voice said, “Hi there.”
Max Harlington stood near the kitchen door in his uniform, sergeant stripes and all. “Virginia told me you were here. It’s been a long time. How you been?”
“Uh, I’m kinda busy so—”
“Too busy to tell me how you’ve been?”
“Oh, yeah.” I giggled stupidly. “I have to go.”
“Are you avoiding me?”
“Why would I be?”
“You tell me.”
“I have no reason to …. I just have work.” I headed back toward the telephone room with no cherries.
He followed me. “I wanted to thank you for encouraging Tommie to volunteer here. He loves it.”
“Sure.” I dashed back into the room and leaned against the closed door catching my breath. He knows everything about me. No, he doesn’t. Why am I letting him scare me? I should go back out there and have a normal conversation with him like I do with the other G.I.’s.” I took in a breath. I’m gonna get those cherries.
When I charged back out, Max was still leaning against the wall near the kitchen.
“Look,” he said pointing at the stage. Tommie stood in front of the microphone with somebody’s army hat on his head. The band played the introduction and Tommie sang in a mellow baritone, “I left my heart at the Stage Door Canteen.”
“Irving’s latest,” Max whispered. “He’s donating the proceeds from it to the war effort.”
“Tommie’s good,” I said. “I mean, at the party he was fun, but this—he’s serious and he’s good.”
“I know. I just taught him that song an hour ago. Someday he’ll be a star.”
“You really think that?”
“I really do. You’d be surprised how many of us are, Al.”
“Alice. That’s what they call me here.”
“Max!” Virginia called, walking toward us, her heels clicking against the floor. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”
“I took a late train. Shhh.” He pointed at Tommie.
When Tommie sang the last note, the audience cheered, and some of the men lifted him on their shoulders carrying him to their table.
“He seems to be doing well with the G.I.’s here,” Max said.
“Yes,” Virginia said. “They treat him like a mascot. ”
“I was worried they might give him a hard time,” I added, “about being, you know ….”
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“Yes, Al. I mean Alice . I do know what Tommie is. I’m that, too.”
“Anyway, they all just seem to think he’s too young to serve and don’t notice the other.”
“I’d say they watch out for him,” Virginia said. “And he’s a good worker. Miss Cowl and Miss Royle love him. Dance with me, Max.” She tugged on his sleeve.
“Don’t hang on me.” He yanked his arm away. “I have my eye on a cute little soldier sitting over there.”
“Max, you can’t do that here,” I whispered.
“Relax. I only go after the ones who want to be gotten and know how to be discreet.”
Virginia turned abruptly and walked back into the kitchen.
“Do you have to say things like that in front of her? It hurts her.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, but—”
“Then stay out of it. You’ll never understand what Virginia and I are to each other.”
“Fine. Don’t go after anyone here, and I think you should talk to Tommie. I’d hate for something to happen to him.”
“Like what?”
“The way he moves. He wiggles when he walks.”
“That’s Tommie.” Max laughed. “So?”
“No one’s said anything so far but that wiggle.”
“And I suppose you walk like a delicate flower.”
“Max, if you could just talk to him. It could be dangerous.”
“Dangerous for whom? Tommie or you?”
“It has nothing to do with me. Forget it. Virginia told me you’re working on that show Irving Berlin’s preparing for Broadway. There wouldn’t be some small part for me?”
“Oh, so now I don’t look like such tasteless oaf, hey?”
“I know you don’t like my singing, but I’m better now, and I thought maybe in the chorus—”
“Sorry, hon. The chorus is only composed of enlisted men; there are no women in this musical.”
“Oh. Just thought I’d ask. It must be really exciting working with Irving Berlin.”
“He’s completely impossible , but we’re managing.”
“And I suppose you’re easy.”
“As pie. In between working on the show, they’ve got us marching around in formation. We have to get up at five in the morning for calisthenics. Five! Don’t they know how dangerous that is for theater people?”