T-Backs, T-Shirts, Coat, and Suit

by E. L. Konigsburg

  She knew! Bernadette knew. She had known from the minute the accident happened what Chloë had been wishing for.

  Chloë finished a thorough and poetic description of the accident before the nurse came to interview Bernadette. By the time they were ready to take X rays, Bernadette’s wrist and hand were so swollen they looked like a cow’s udder with five dangles instead of four.

  X rays showed a hairline fracture of one of the bones of her wrist. A medical assistant put it in a cast. The doctor offered Bernadette a pain pill, but she didn’t want to drive under the influence of a pill that could possibly make her sleepy, so she put it into her shirt pocket to take when she got home. The doctor also gave her medicine that was supposed to bring down the swelling, as well as a prescription for more pain pills.

  She and Chloë stopped at a drugstore to fill the prescription, and by the time they got to the house, Daisy was pawing the floor, whimpering, circling, doing all the things that Daisy did when she was not at peace or had to relieve herself very badly. Once they were inside, Daisy jumped up on Bernadette. Instead of trying to lick her face as she usually did, Daisy tried to climb inside Bernadette’s shirt pocket.

  “Down, Daisy. Down,” Bernadette said, but Daisy wouldn’t get down. As tired and as hurting as Bernadette was, she took time to calm Daisy. She took the pain pill out of her pocket and the medicine from the bag and let Daisy get a good whiff of them. “Good dog,” she said. Chloë watched, mystified. “Daisy can’t forget that she was a drug-sniffing police dog,” Bernadette explained. “She got a whiff of my pocket and did her duty.”

  Chloë brought Bernadette a glass of water so that she could swallow the pills. Bernadette asked Chloë if she would mind taking Daisy for a run around the block to let her work off some energy. “When you get back, I’ll tell you how I got Daisy,” she said.

  Daisy had been trained by the Canine Corps to be a drug-sniffing dog. She had lived with Jake, her handler. He brought her to the docks when the stevedores were unloading cargo from overseas. Jake was a cop. Daisy was his second drug-sniffing dog. The first one had been killed in a shoot-out at a drug arrest in town. Jake had had Daisy only a year and a half when he suffered a heart attack right in the warehouse where he and Daisy had been inspecting cargo from Venezuela.

  When Jake fell, Daisy set up a howl that made everyone come running. But Daisy wouldn’t let anyone near her master. Drug-sniffing dogs are trained to take orders only from their masters, so Daisy snarled and snapped, and it was worth a person’s life to try to get close enough to Jake to give him CPR.

  Bernadette heard the commotion and ran into the warehouse. She saw Daisy sitting beside her fallen master and a circle of people standing five feet away. Jake and Daisy looked like the bulls-eye on a target.

  Bernadette didn’t charge into the circle. She crouched at the edge and whispered to the man next to her, “Call 911.” Then she whispered again—this time, no one—not even those standing right next to her—could understand what she was whispering. They could hardly hear her. But Daisy must have, for she lay down, put her head between her paws and allowed Bernadette to approach. Bernadette didn’t walk upright and she didn’t make any sudden moves. She crawled to Jake. Crawled on all fours. Daisy moved nothing but her eyes, yet under her sleek black coat, every muscle appeared outlined and ready.

  Bernadette knew that Rule 1 in CPR was, Try to wake the victim. Shake and shout was the first order of business. But Bernadette knew that she would have Daisy’s teeth at her throat if she shook Jake. Slowly, slowly, slowly she lowered her head to Jake’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. There was none. She felt for a pulse in his neck. There was none. Slowly, slowly, slowly she tilted his head back, pried open his mouth, and gave him the kiss of life. But Jake did not respond. Daisy watched Bernadette without moving her head, her eyes riveted on Bernadette like a New Zealand heading dog.

  Bernadette worked on Jake for a full ten minutes before she gave up. She folded Jake’s hands over his chest and turned his face toward Daisy. Daisy stood up, went over to Jake, licked his face, stopped, licked his face again, then sat at his side, lifted her head, and howled. She howled so loud, you could see the waves of sound as they rose in her throat.

  Bernadette did not try to comfort Daisy. She let her howl. She got up slowly and stood over Jake’s body.

  No one moved until the rescue squad arrived and broke through the circle. Bernadette took Daisy’s leash and led her out to her van. Dogs from the Canine Corps don’t usually bond with anyone besides their handlers, and it can be dangerous for anyone else to try. Sometimes they are so hostile to anyone besides their handlers, they have to be put down, but Daisy and Bernadette got together the day that Jake died. They have been together ever since.

  Bernadette’s eyelids were getting heavy. She needed sleep. At that moment, Chloë was so proud of Bernadette, so full of admiration, she could hardly talk. Yet, even as Bernadette was telling the story, she was thinking how it fit right in with what she wanted to tell Tyler.

  The following morning, Chloë awakened before Bernadette called her. She started to turn over, to wait for her call, but she sensed by the slant of the light in the room that it was late. She jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen to look at the clock. It was 6:45. Six-forty-five! Fifteen minutes past the time they should have been at Zack’s!

  This was an emergency.

  She ran toward Bernadette’s bedroom, ready to pound on the door to break the news to her. She had never once disturbed Bernadette from the time she entered her bedroom at night until she was called in the morning. But this definitely was an emergency. She lifted her hand to knock on the door but didn’t. She suddenly felt very shy about invading Bernadette’s privacy.

  Instead of knocking on the door to awaken her, she opened the door slowly. The first thing she saw was Daisy on the floor at the foot of the bed. Daisy’s head turned, and Chloë signaled her to stay quiet. She looked around the room. The Florida sun pressed through the blinds, giving it an apricot glow. Chloë had never before seen Bernadette asleep. She was lying on her side, her back to the door, her good arm curved under the pillow, her injured arm lying on top of it, making a heavy dent. Chloë focused on the naked shoulder that was visible above the blanket. She felt embarrassed being there.

  She hesitated.

  This truly was an emergency.

  She had to do something.

  In a flash she knew what she would do. She would both welcome the unexpected and help Bernadette. She beckoned to Daisy to come and quietly closed Bernadette’s door behind her. She led her through the kitchen door and shooed her outside to do her business. “Be quick about it,” she said.

  She checked the list of numbers that Bernadette had posted by the phone. She found Grady Oates. She dialed. As the phone rang—once, twice, three times—she waited for a muffled click and the dread sound of low static that would tell her that she was about to speak to an answering machine. Please, Grady, please answer. Please, please, please. Please, no answering machine. Please. Please. Please be there.

  After the fifth ring, she heard Grady’s deep, warm voice say, “Hello.” She quickly explained what had happened and asked him if, instead of going to the commissary, he would please come pick her up. “Will you please drive Bernadette’s van today? I’ll help,” she said. “I know the routine, and I am very good with condiments. Then I’ll help you with your job at the mall. I promise I will.”

  * * *

  Chloë and Grady were so late getting to the commissary that there were no ham or tuna sandwiches left. They loaded up as best they could and headed out to Talleyrand. There was no chance of their getting the best spot. They were the last van in line at Talleyrand. As soon as Grady parked, Chloë hopped out, opened the window, put up the awning, and set out the condiments. No one came. The only van doing business—and it was doing excellent business—was the one in Bernadette’s old spot.

  Chloë went down the line to see what was going on and asked Grady to
please wait by the van to catch any stray business that might come their way.

  Down the line she went. One van, two vans, three vans, four. Down the line, at van number five, in the spot that used to be Bernadette’s, there was a battalion of men, their arms raised to the sky in an effort to give money or receive goods from driver-server Wanda. Ditto to yesterday.

  Wanda was busy. Very busy. She was wearing a T-back. Ditto to yesterday.

  On the other side of the crowd, two of the vans were serving a couple of women who worked in the shipyards. The others were doing zero business. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

  Chloë returned to Grady. “It wouldn’t have made any difference if we had gotten the best spot,” she said. “It wouldn’t have made any difference at all.” Chloë told him what was happening down the road and what had happened yesterday at the Ritz.

  Grady burst out laughing. “There’s an old saying in business,” he said. “Don’t sell the steak, sell the sizzle. Wanda and Velma are selling sizzle.”

  They managed to do some business with the shopworkers, but they were at a disadvantage because they didn’t have ham or tuna sandwiches, both popular summertime items. When it was time to swing back to the docks to take care of lunch hour there, they could have been selling panty hose in a monastery for all the customers they had.

  * * *

  When they returned to the commissary, they saw Bernadette’s Firebird in the parking lot. She was inside talking to Zack. “Out partying all night?” he asked, smiling. Bernadette didn’t answer. “Seeing someone special for a late-late show?” he asked.

  Bernadette said, “The only thing worse than a smart-mouthed man who is not witty is a smart-mouthed man who thinks he is.”

  Zack laughed, and winked at Grady and Chloë as they approached. Bernadette saw them and lifted her arm to wave. That was when Zack noticed the cast on her arm. “What happened to you?” he asked. “Did you have an accident? I didn’t notice. I’m sorry. You know what a madhouse it is around here in the morning. What happened?” he asked.

  “If you’re not interested in finding out why, once in seven years, I am late for work, I’m not interested in giving you an education,” Bernadette said. She turned her back and walked away.

  Grady and Chloë unloaded Bernadette’s van. Bernadette did what she could to help and signed the clipboard that Zack silently held out to her. Then they walked with Grady to his van. Once he was behind the wheel, Bernadette leaned against the window on the driver’s side and said, “I owe you, Grady. I don’t forget favors.”

  “Neither do I, Bernadette. I remember who got me this job in the first place.” He put the key in the ignition. “Funny thing. I was on my way out the door when the phone rang, and I almost didn’t answer, but the Lord turned me around and led me back to the phone. I tell you, Bernadette, I was only too happy to have your niece call on me. Delighted, I say.”

  “We’re in for some changes, Grady,” Bernadette said.

  “Oh!” Grady replied, laughing. “I’ve already seen the sizzle.” He waved good-bye.

  * * *

  By Wednesday, four out of seven of the women driver-servers on Talleyrand wore T-backs. Wanda and three others.

  Thursday: Josetta and Lenore showed up in them. Josetta and Lenore were very large women. Chloë told Bernadette that they must have bought their T-backs from a Sumo-wrestler supply house.

  Bernadette said, “Oh! I don’t know. If God had wanted us all to be thin and firm, He wouldn’t have given us a taste for cheese and chocolate.”

  Friday: Lionel, the one male driver-server on Talleyrand, showed up in a T-back. Lionel said, “Equal’s equal, and fair’s fair.” The women shoved folded paper money into the strap of Lionel’s T-back, and didn’t ask for change. Chloë noticed that the men were not shoving dollar bills into the straps of the women’s T-backs. She thought, if equal were really equal, they would.

  Bernadette’s sales were way down, and since Velma had usurped their place at the Ritz, they were returning to the commissary with most of what they had loaded.

  * * *

  On the second Friday of T-backs, Zack told Bernadette that he would like to see her in his office.

  Chloë followed. Zack stopped in his tracks. “It’s Bernadette I want to talk to.”

  “Chloë can come,” Bernadette said.

  Bernadette and Chloë sat down. Zack asked if they would like something cold to drink. Both refused. He cleared his throat several times, and at last said, “I don’t know what’s happening, Bernadette. You used to be my best driver-server.” He picked up her clipboard and flipped through the week’s receipts. “Your sales are way down. Way, way down.” He asked if having the kid along was keeping her from giving her customers the kind of service she used to, and Bernadette said, “Chloë’s a big help, Zack.” He asked if something else was keeping her from giving her customers the kind of service she used to, and Bernadette said, “Maybe.” Then he asked Bernadette if she thought she needed a change. She asked what kind of change.

  “Time off. A little vacation maybe. Time to spend with the kid.”

  She said, “No, thank you.”

  Zack cleared his throat so that he could start a new paragraph. “I’ve been thinking about giving Velma the Talleyrand route and shifting you to the highway. For your own good, Bernadette. It might be a little less wear and tear on you. Velma’s brought that highway route right along. She’s bringing in almost as much business from that stop as we do on Talleyrand.” Zack started reaching for another clipboard. “Here,” he said, “I’ll show you.”

  “You don’t have to, Zack. I believe you.”

  “So you’ll take Velma’s route, then?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Bernadette said.

  Chloë asked, “If Velma’s doing so terrifically well out there on the highway, why pull her off?”

  “Because I said that it will be easier on your aunt.”

  “Do you know wha—,” Chloë started to say, but Bernadette interrupted her.

  “When do I start?”

  He got busy with some papers on his desk. “Monday,” he said.

  Zack never mentioned T-backs because, up to this point, work at the commissary had gone on as if they did not exist. Everyone who wore a T-back on the job continued to wear jeans and shirts over them at the commissary, both when they loaded up in the morning and when they checked in at night. The syllables T-back never crossed anyone’s lips, and the outfits themselves never seemed to cross the threshold.

  So by the end of the first full week of T-backs, so after being with Zack for seven years, after years of building up business, Bernadette lost Talleyrand. The progress that she had measured in years, Wanda measured in months, and Velma, days.

  Bernadette and Chloë settled into a new work routine.

  Chloë said, “I won’t take any more salary, Bernadette, until we’ve gotten our commissions back up to what they were on Talleyrand.”

  Bernadette said, “Thank you. I’ve never had much trouble living within my means. I always make sure that my wants don’t exceed my needs by too much. I thank you for your offer, Chlöe, and I accept.”

  Bernadette’s accepting Chloë’s offer meant that she took her help seriously, and that made Chloë feel even more helpful.

  Within a week of driving the highway route, they began servicing the construction sites of a large office park south of town and the condos at Crossroads. Work was not easier than it was on Talleyrand because they had to hustle from place to place, but Bernadette had known it wouldn’t be. And she knew that Zack knew it too.

  Once their new routine was established, they returned to the sporting-goods store and bought wrist guards, elbow guards, and knee pads, taking great pains to avoid the clerk who had waited on them the first time. Neither Chloë nor Bernadette wanted to give him the satisfaction of seeing Bernadette’s wrist in a cast.

  Chloë learned to keep her ankles straight and to skate backwards. She was not doing spins or camels, but she f
igured when you start at square one, all improvement is one hundred percent.

  She had thought about Tyler a lot, so on the day that Bernadette was due for a checkup on her arm, Chloë invited him to join her at the dollar-movie parking lot. Bernadette arranged to pick him up on her way to the doctor’s office.

  While waiting for Bernadette to shower, Chloë flipped on the TV to watch the early news. The weather report was the only part she was interested in. Heavy rains meant that there would be no work on the highway, and the condo and the office-park construction would be cut by half.

  Just before the first commercial break, the male anchorperson said, “How much will the traffic on Talleyrand bear? That story and more as the news continues.” Chloë turned up the volume and called Bernadette. “Something’s happened on Talleyrand.” Bernadette came running, and they turned their full attention to NewsCenter Five.

  There was a little news and a sports report, followed by laughter, chitchat, and a few commercial messages. A little more news and the weather report, followed by laughter, chitchat, and a few commercial messages.

  Chloë lost patience. “I can’t figure out why they need two anchorpersons in the first place,” she said. “They take up half the time talking to each other, and there’s so little news, they have to divvy up the sentences between them. How come the networks need only one anchorperson for news of the whole U.S.A.?”

  Bernadette just shrugged. “When you figure it out, tell me.”

  * * *

  A tape of the first news broadcast about the T-backs showed the following:

  ANCHOR I: NewsCenter Five reporter Richard Roebuck went down to the docks on Talleyrand earlier this afternoon and has filed this report. Richard?

  RICHARD ROEBUCK (close up, holding a microphone): There is something old and something new on Talleyrand today. (The camera pans to a line of driver-servers, their backs to the camera. Blue blobs cover their lower halves.) Answering a call from a disgruntled employee, we went to Talleyrand today to find shipyard workers enjoying an old service with a new twist. (The camera continues to pan up and down the line of servers as Richard Roebuck’s voice explains the new dress code on Talleyrand.) We spoke to several of the T-back wearers today.