Her Sister's Tattoo

by Ellen Meeropol

  “Esther, he’s asking for your plea,” Joel whispered in her ear. “Say ‘not guilty.’ You can change it later, if you want to. After we hear what they offer.”

  “Not guilty,” she said.

  “I’m going to expedite this case,” the judge said. “Motions due in two weeks. Trial to start the third Monday in November.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Rosa

  “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” Rosa led Esther and Jake into the living room. She lifted a stack of heavy books sprouting yellow lined papers from the sofa and looked around for a place to put them. Similar piles lined the top of the bookshelves, jammed between empty Chianti bottles with candle stubs and drips of hardened wax.

  “There’s no place to sit, Allen,” she called. “Come move your mess.”

  “It just looks disorganized.” Allen grabbed the files and glared at Rosa on his way to the den.

  “Should I put the barley in the oven to heat up?” Without waiting for an answer, Esther took the casserole from Jake and walked into the kitchen.

  Rosa followed her. “Need anything?”

  “A potholder?”

  Rosa used a dishtowel to make room in the oven. She hoped Esther appreciated the effort she’d made with this meal. A whole chicken sizzled, surrounded by roasting potatoes and carrots and onions. That was as domestic as she got. The four of them used to eat together frequently— spontaneous meals of pasta or stir fry prepared between an afternoon of writing leaflets and an evening meeting—while they argued tactics or danced around the kitchen to the Supremes. That happened rarely now. This time Rosa had called two days ahead of time to invite them and suggested a babysitter for Molly so they could focus on the issues without interruption. She even borrowed a tablecloth from Mama.

  She’d been making an effort to be patient with Esther, too. In the two weeks since their arraignment, she called her sister every day. “What are you thinking about the trial?” she’d ask. Or, “Listen to this about the necessity defense. I think we’ve got a good chance.” Esther appeared to listen, but she didn’t seem convinced, no matter how compelling Rosa’s arguments, how relevant the case law. Tomorrow morning the DA expected Esther’s decision about her plea. Tonight was Rosa’s last chance to change her sister’s mind.

  Allen handed a glass of wine to Esther, another to Rosa.

  “Cheers.” Allen raised his glass and clicked it against Jake’s coffee mug.

  Rosa smiled at the two men. Best friends since summer camp, but so different. Skinny Jake, hair thinning on top even at seventeen, had always been brainy and quiet. Burly Allen, sporting a beard in defiance of camp rules, had been too heavy to be a stellar athlete, but was still the first person chosen for Capture the Flag teams.

  “To ending the war. And to working together,” Rosa added, clinking her glass to the others. “We’re family. You guys are practically brothers.”

  “I could use a brother,” Jake said. “These charges are scary.”

  “They’re trying to scare us,” Rosa said, leaning forward. “Which is why it’s so important to fight back. What are you going to tell the DA tomorrow, Esther?”

  Jake answered quickly. “Joel recommends that Esther take the DA’s offer. Plead guilty to the lesser charges. Pay the fine and get on with her life. Our lives.”

  “If you do that,” Rosa said, “you’ll have to testify against me.”

  Esther buried her face in Jake’s neck. Allen frowned at Rosa and stood up. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  Rosa tried to look apologetic. She’d promised Allen to go slow, not push Esther too hard. But she couldn’t help it. This was too important. Still, he was probably right. “Sorry. I’ll put the food out.”

  “Can I help?” Jake stood up.

  Rosa noted Esther’s small smile. Their women’s group had spent the entire last meeting discussing the politics of housework. Rosa insisted that men must be forced into doing their share of laundry and cooking and cleaning. “You wouldn’t expect slave owners to volunteer to help in the fields, would you?” Esther argued that their men weren’t slave owners and they could change. She must’ve primed Jake to prove her point.

  “Listen,” Rosa said when they were seated around the table. “Our defense is much stronger if we stick together. I want a jury trial. I know I can make people on a jury understand.”

  “It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Esther passed the platter of chicken to Jake. “What I want, what I need, is to take care of Molly.”

  “Don’t you understand? This is about more than one baby.” She reached across the table and seized Esther’s chin, capturing her gaze. “I can’t believe you won’t fight this with me. Won’t stand up for the principle. Don’t you remember our vow?”

  How could Esther forget the final night of their last summer together at camp, when the four of them met at midnight at the Peace Crane sculpture? They pledged to dedicate their lives to each other and to changing the world—joining with their parents, Leah, and all the other freedom fighters through history.

  “Of course I remember, but this is different.” Esther whipped her head side to side, trying to loosen Rosa’s grip. “What’s the principle here? Our inalienable right to hurt horses and cops? Besides, sometimes you have to compromise.”

  Rosa refused to let go of Esther’s chin, not when her sister was breaking her heart. She pushed back tears and tried to control her voice. “You can’t compromise about the war.”

  “And you can’t bully me into this.” Esther swatted Rosa’s hand away, then reached for her glass.

  Rosa watched Esther’s hand tremble, sloshing the red liquid against the glass. This must be hard for her too. Maybe her mind wasn’t totally made up. If only Rosa could find the right argument to convince her.

  “So every woman with a baby abandons the movement?” Rosa said, trying to keep her tone low-key. “That’s it? No more activism, no more responsibility for changing the world? Just changing diapers?”

  Rosa felt a little guilty saying that. She could see how Esther struggled trying to balance Molly and meetings. Maybe she herself didn’t make it easier, always pointing it out when Esther begged off an action, instead of offering to help with childcare. In the future, she would help more. But this trial was different. Esther had to understand. They had to work together on this.

  “I’m not talking about everyone,” Esther said. “Just about what feels right for me. And I’m not abandoning the movement, you know. I’m just choosing to avoid prison. Not all activists have to go to jail. Besides, we’re guilty, remember? We did it. Don’t you ever think about that cop?”

  Of course Rosa thought about the cop. And these days her emotions seemed to be on heightened alert. She teared up at the smallest things. “I try not to,” she said. “The cops were brutal and we had to act.”

  “Get real.” Jake jabbed his finger, glistening with chicken grease, at Rosa. “You think you’re Bernardine Dohrn or Angela Davis? Well, you’re not.”

  “I wish I were! They make a big difference. I bet their families are proud of their actions.”

  Jake’s laugh was rough. “You didn’t bomb a napalm lab or defend the barricades in Paris or storm the Pentagon, Rosa. You’re proud of throwing rocks?”

  “Apples.”

  “Apples. At a horse, a poor dumb beast. Street fighting like a thug is nothing to be proud of.”

  “Not street fighting, exactly. More like a spontaneous act of rebellion, motivated by profound love for the Vietnamese people.”

  “Get a grip, Rosa. You’re not Che either.” Jake swiped at the grease on his hand.

  Damn him. Jake could be so condescending. “You get a grip, Doctor. This is serious stuff. The DA takes it seriously. Look at the charges.”

  “The charges do increase the political significance.” Allen’s voice was low, soothing. Under the table, he rested his hand on Rosa’s thigh. “Conspiracy is what they charge when they really want to nail you big time. We could set impor
tant legal precedent here.”

  “Precedent?” Jake said. “For the right to throw apples?”

  “I’m talking about political targeting,” Allen said. “Because Rosa and Esther are known activists, leaders in the movement. Plus, we do have some other investigatory avenues to explore, things that could blow holes in their case.”

  Jake looked skeptical. “Like what?”

  “Like the photographer, the hero of the day, sitting across the street. If it was so clear to him what Rosa and Esther were doing, why didn’t he try to stop them? Or warn the cops? See, he didn’t take it too seriously either, until the horse was hit and the officer thrown. That might help us.” Allen helped himself to more barley casserole.

  “You can’t have it both ways.” Esther pushed her plate away. “One minute, you’re acting out of revolutionary fervor to save the defenseless protestors against the armed cops. In the next breath, it’s just a little tossed apple, Officer, merely a prank. Which one is it, Rosa?”

  “Whatever it takes. This is war.”

  “I don’t want war,” Esther said. “War is what we’re against.”

  It’s not that simple, Rosa thought. Sometimes the battleground felt so big it made her chest ache. How could they ever right all the wrongs? Maybe Esther was right—maybe she was trying to do too much. But how did you choose what to fight? And how did you accept giving up some battles? It made her stomach clutch and dive, and for a moment she thought she would throw up all over the faded lilacs on Mama’s best tablecloth. She took slow, shallow breaths, and tried to make her voice quiet.

  “We don’t have to agree about everything, Esther. Let’s just stick together, like we always do.”

  “You mean, let’s do it your way.” Esther folded her napkin and tucked it under the edge of her plate. “I can’t do that. Not anymore. Not with Molly.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Esther

  The afternoon before Rosa’s trial, Esther answered a knock at the apartment door to find Maggie brushing a frosting of snow from her hair. Her smile looked as bogus as a snowman’s crooked grin of pebbles.

  The morning after the awful dinner at Rosa and Allen’s apartment, Esther had changed her plea to guilty and accepted District Attorney Turner’s deal. In the two months since, she barely left the house except for her part-time job at the bookstore, where she was assigned to unpack boxes rather than sell books at the counter. She stayed home from the weekly women’s group meetings and she hadn’t heard a single word from Maggie or any of the other women in the SDS collective. She tried not to blame Maggie for her silence; everyone knew Maggie was Rosa’s best friend. Just a few months ago, Esther had thought Maggie was her best friend, too.

  “I guess sisterhood isn’t that powerful,” Jake had observed. Esther argued with him, but her heart wasn’t in it. Maybe he was right.

  Maggie wiped her glasses on her scarf, succeeding only in smearing them. “Hey. Can I come in?”

  Esther took a step back so Maggie could enter. Esther touched her finger to her lips. “Molly’s sleeping.”

  Maggie nodded and followed Esther silently into the living room. At least that response was better than Rosa, who usually raised her voice at the request to be quieter, insisting that babies had to learn to sleep through talking and music and meetings.

  “How’s Molly doing?”

  What kind of answer did Maggie want, pleasant or honest? Esther sat at one end of the sofa hugging a hand-me-down pillow with orange blossoms. “Fine. She’s crawling. Still not sleeping all night, though.” Maggie loved kids, claimed that the only negative to being a dyke was the difficulty making babies. But she hadn’t come over to discuss Molly’s developmental milestones. “What’s up?”

  Maggie rearranged herself at the other end of the sofa, tucking one leg under her. The tip of her tongue peeked between her top and bottom teeth, like it always did when she was nervous. “I can’t stand this,” she said.

  You can’t stand it? Esther wished she could sob her misery into her old friend’s arms. She didn’t trust herself to speak past the lump in her throat, so she just shrugged and waited for Maggie to continue.

  “This is really hard. I’m sorry that my support for Rosa means not being here for you. I want to help.”

  “Help me?”

  “Both of you. Rosa is just as miserable as you are. Not that she’d ever show it.”

  “Did she send you here?”

  Maggie shook her head emphatically. “She’d be furious. This is my idea, because I want you and Rosa to work this out. So you don’t have to testify against her tomorrow.”

  Esther put her foot on the rocking chair next to the sofa and pushed. The squeak of the springs, rusty under the denim-patched pillow, was loud in the silent room. Soon Maggie would leave and Molly would wake up from her nap. Esther would bundle her in the plush rose-colored snowsuit with bunny ears that Mama bought in preparation for Molly’s first Michigan winter. Dressing a baby girl in pink was conforming to gender stereotypes, but Esther loved the slippery feel of the fabric and the hopeful color. They would walk to the neighborhood park and Molly would ride the baby swing, squealing with delight at every rise and fall of the arc.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Maggie asked.

  “Talk to Rosa, because she’s the only one with a choice now. I have to tell the truth about what happened. I mean, how can that be wrong, telling the truth? We did it, you know?”

  “Rosa sees it as a betrayal. Besides, is there only one truth here? There are no possible nuances of motivation or necessity?”

  Esther let herself sink back into the sofa, so weary. If only she could disappear into the lumpy old stuffing. “The truth is that we caused an accident and a cop was hurt.”

  “He’s not hurt that bad. Rosa says that—”

  “He’s paralyzed,” Esther interrupted. “That’s pretty bad. Listen, I know you want to help. And I know Rosa is a force of nature. It’s impossible to say no to her. If I didn’t have Molly, I probably couldn’t do it. But I do have Molly, and I’m going to tell the truth tomorrow.”

  “Can’t you try one more time to talk with each other?”

  Trying to talk with Rosa when she was determined was a complete waste of time. Maggie must know that after all these years. Feeling so isolated and alone these days, Esther was growing equally as resolute. Whenever she pictured her sister, she saw the black and white television image of Rosa’s face. An ashen oval framed by high voltage hair.

  Esther shook her head. “Won’t do any good.”

  “She’ll never forgive you.” Maggie’s mouth moved stiffly, as if forming the words took great effort.

  Esther stood up. “I know that.”

  “Please try once more.” Maggie was begging. “I’m scared. If anyone can persuade Rosa, it’s you.”

  How peculiar that Maggie would say that. She was usually so smart about people. Esther never had much influence over Rosa. She had always been the little tag-along, the follower, the faithful sidekick. And now, when the stakes were so high for both of them, Esther felt even smaller. No. Despite Maggie’s wishful thinking, Esther had absolutely no influence on her big sister.

  Esther spoke before Jake was through the door. “Maggie was here today.”

  “What did she want?” Jake tossed his coat on the rocking chair and leaned down to kiss Molly’s forehead.

  “Just for me to change my mind and not testify tomorrow.”

  “Great, so they slap you in jail? You’ve got a deal with the DA. Does Maggie remember that detail?”

  Esther didn’t answer.

  “Did Rosa send her?”

  “Maggie claims not. She says Rosa is miserable.”

  Jake sat on the sofa and put his arms around Esther, gathering her and Molly against his body. “I hope she is. Serves her right, treating you like a traitor.”

  “Rosa can’t help it. She can’t believe that anyone, me or you or Allen or Maggie or anyone, could disagree with her on something this
important. I admire that about her, how unshakeable she is.”

  “Well, I don’t.” Jake emptied his pockets onto the coffee table. Stethoscope, reflex hammer, dog-eared laminated card with pediatric emergency dosages, two-inch tall blue plastic monkey that opened its arms and legs and squawked when you squeezed its back. At the sound, Molly opened her eyes, pulled away from Esther’s nipple, and reached for the monkey.

  “You’re the Monkey,” Jake said to Molly. “Let me wash this first, then you can play.”

  “Well, I do admire her,” Esther repeated, loud enough for Jake to hear over the splash of the kitchen faucet. “I just wish she didn’t demand everyone’s agreement.”

  “Everyone’s obedience, more like it.” Jake squeezed the monkey twice and handed it to Molly, who brought it to her mouth and sucked on the head. “I can’t believe you guys come from the same parents. How did you turn out so different? She’s warped.”

  Esther shrugged. “She thinks I’m the one who’s warped.”

  “Well, I’m starved.” Jake held out his arms to Molly. “I’ll play with her while you make dinner. And tomorrow we’ll see what the jury thinks about who’s warped.”

  It’s not the jury’s opinion I care about, Esther realized as she opened the refrigerator for the leftover brown rice.

  When she heard Jake and Molly’s laughter from the living room, Esther dialed Rosa’s number. The empty rings of the telephone echoed in the dark hallway.

  CHAPTER 8

  Rosa

  “One more word from you and I’ll hold you in contempt of court.”

  The judge’s words landed like spittle on Rosa’s cheeks. She ached to wipe her face. Instead she sat up straight in the witness stand, willing her hands to stay clenched in her lap. She returned his stare, imagining her own olive skin facing off against his purple complexion. Maybe he would burst a blood vessel. Imagining that worked better than picturing him walking naked down the street, the emperor without clothes—that’s what her lawyer suggested if she felt intimidated by the courtroom ceremony, the robes and office. But she would not be intimidated.