“Justice wouldn’t care,” Temerity said with a dismissive wave. “And if you think he does, you’re not giving him enough credit. Ellen, my new friend, you have to have a little bit more confidence in people.”
“Like strangers?” Ellen asked, knowing that Temerity would pick up on the attempted humor in her voice.
“Strangers? Hell no! But there are people worth letting in, a few anyway.” She paused and then said, “Speaking of which, thanks for sharing this with me. It’s been quite an adventure. Honestly, T-bone’s physical assault excluded, it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I just hope that he’s okay.”
There was a knock on the door, and they both jumped, then giggled behind their hands. “Cops,” Temerity whispered. “Let’s do this.”
She fixed her sunglasses on her face and went confidently to answer the door. Ellen stayed in the kitchen, smushed in behind the refrigerator.
“About time!” Temerity said as she opened the door to the stocky man in blue. “How’s T-bone?”
“Excuse me?” The officer was taken aback.
“My neighbor who was shot. I don’t know his name, so I call him T-bone.”
“I see. And you are?”
“Ellen Homes. Nice to meet you, Officer—”
“Ricco. Officer Ricco. Can you tell me if you saw or heard anything?”
“Sure. I thought I heard a gunshot, but that’s not unusual around this place. You should be here on Cinco de Mayo, it’s like the O.K. Corral. Then I saw a guy at T-bone’s back door. You guys rode up, guns blazing, and he freaked. He ran up my back stairs and climbed onto the roof. He ran around to the far side, then jumped down onto the next building.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“Well, I’ll tell you.” In an attempt at what she must have assumed would be a casual stance, Temerity crossed one foot over the other and reached a hand out to lean against the doorjamb. She miscalculated its location by a couple of inches, lost her balance, but recovered and propped herself up, attaining an awkward, unnatural pose. Between the sunglasses at night and the unsteady movements, the officer probably thought she was drunk, at least. “It’s dark, and I wasn’t really paying attention at first. But, best guess, he was young, I’d say about seventeen, eighteen, shortish, about my height, shaved head, jeans and a white T-shirt, white sneakers, light gray jacket, oh, and scars, a bracelet of burn scars around his right wrist.”
The cop had been fiddling with his pad, listening with skeptical disinterest, but now he looked up sharply. “Scars?”
“Yep, a bracelet, in a pattern, you know, like connected triangles, diamonds. Here,” she pulled a paper from her pocket, a small sketch that Ellen had made, and held it out, slightly off to one side. “I drew it for you, so you’d have it.” Ellen saw the officer narrow his eyes at the paper, but he took it and studied it. “That’s about it. I’m afraid I didn’t get a good look at his face, so . . .” She threw her hands out to illustrate their emptiness, smacking her knuckles against the door with the gesture. “Ouch, I have got to switch to light beer.” She smiled angelically in Officer Ricco’s general direction.
The officer grumbled and glared down at the sketch. “We’ve seen this before; it’s a kind of gang marking.” His deep sigh said all he could have about what their chances were of catching the guy. He pulled a card from his pocket and held it out. “If you think of anything else, can you give us a call? This is the supervising detective’s number.”
Temerity hesitated, and Ellen realized she had no idea where the card might be floating in front of her. Pawing repeatedly at thin air would be a definite giveaway. But showing her capacity to find a way, as she had put it, she stuck her hand out, palm up, the way she had with Janelle, and the officer placed the card in it. “Sure thing. You didn’t say if my neighbor is going to be all right,” she pushed.
“I’m afraid I don’t have that information,” he evaded.
“And how about Cindy?” The cop looked slightly confused and didn’t answer. “You know, the pregnant one. She okay?”
“She’s fine. One of our officers took her to Saint Vincent’s.”
“Oh, great. Good hospital. I’ll have to drop in on her, maybe tomorrow, take her a basket of baby . . . uh . . . stuff, you know. Blankies and diapies and whatnot.”
“Sure.” The officer was ready to go now. Ellen could see him close his pad and shift impatiently. “Well, thank you. Good night.”
“You take care now!” Temerity called after him as he went down the stairs. It took her three tries to find the door and shut it, but fortunately Officer Ricco did not look back.
Ellen came out. “That was awesome!” she said.
“I was good, wasn’t I?” Temerity seemed surprised and proud as well: she was trembling from the excitement. “Whew, thought we were toast there for a minute when he offered me that card. It could have been a bad Marco Polo moment.”
Ellen thought back. She had heard of this Marco Polo guy as some kind of trader, but maybe he was also blind or had trouble finding things. Before Ellen had time to ask why this moment would have anything to do with him, Temerity went on.
“And guess what else?” Temerity said, doing a little dance in place. She sang the answer to her own question in a playground taunt that Ellen had to disassociate from her own torturous memories. “We know where they took Cin-dy. We can go check out the New-lands.”
“Oh no.” Ellen’s heart sank, and she followed it onto the sofa with the rest of her body. “We’re going to the hospital?”
“You bet we are. But not tonight, she’ll need some time to have that baby. I’m guessing we can meet there tomorrow morning. No, darn it! I have rehearsal at eleven.”
“Then let’s go at nine.” Ellen was shocked by the finality of the decision, and even more stunned to realize it had come from her own mouth.
She walked Temerity to the bus stop and waited with her. It would have been insanity to leave her. The drunks, deprived of their diverting drama by police barricades, were staggering about in wobbly, circular patterns of increasing radius looking for something new to occupy their polluted double vision. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Ellen felt a strange sense of protectiveness for this woman who had meant nothing to her two days ago.
She got back to her apartment, watched the police team taping off doorways and collecting evidence, and wrote furiously in her notebook until she was groggy enough to try to sleep.
Though Ellen wasn’t aware that she was doing it, she replayed what had happened outside to distract from the festering poison that had bubbled up within. And in that rushing montage of everything she had witnessed, one image kept on repeating itself in her mind’s eye, a picture stuck on instant replay.
The young man’s silhouette as he jumped from her roof. His bare arms waving for balance.
She forcibly turned her thoughts to the next day, and somewhere among the jumbled pile of emotions, trepidations and fears lurking in the near future, a new sensation was emerging.
Because of its unfamiliarity, it took her a while to identify it, and even when she gave it a tentative label, she was uncertain and untrusting of her conclusion.
It couldn’t be anticipation, could it?
She was actually looking forward to tomorrow.
Her life being largely nocturnal, her nights off were always fitful, and Ellen slept only a few hours. When she woke, a confusing combination of dreams and memories sparred in her brain, sending her rushing to the back window, half expecting it to be as barren as every other morning. But the bright-yellow police tape across the courtyard and T-bone’s door, with its smashed window, confirmed the reality of last night. She stood watching for answers, feeling a vacant space where the information was lacking. What had happened to T-bone? Was he even still alive?
Left alone, Ellen would eventually have been able to put these que
stions aside like an unfinished novella left on a park bench, but knowing that she would see Temerity, who shared her interest, fortified her curiosity. A fresh, unfamiliar enthusiasm prodded Ellen to action. She dressed quickly, then crept down her stairs and turned left on the sidewalk. At the corner, she went left again, past the front of the building, took a third left down the narrow access between her apartment and the neighboring one, and came to T-bone’s front door, which was crisscrossed with more yellow tape. Next to the door was his mailbox. The painted 1A had faded to a mere suggestion. Opening the flap top, she pulled out a magazine, and on the label was a name—J. B. Tunney.
She put it back into the box and let the lid fall, its squeaky hinge objecting to its rude dismissal. J.B., she thought. J. B. Tunney, T-bone.
The hospital, Saint Vincent’s, was only a few blocks away, and she and Temerity had agreed to meet out front. After breakfast, Ellen walked the short distance, eating two Snickers bars as she went, to keep her strength up. The peanuts and caramel fortified her nerves, padding her still new but emerging courage with plump, stiffening insulation. She waited outside until a cab pulled up and Temerity got out.
“Did you go in yet?” Temerity asked as Ellen approached her.
“How did you know it was me?” Ellen was startled.
“I heard you.” Temerity smiled. “Everyone has a pretty distinct footstep, and you also have a floppy rubber sole.”
Ellen looked ruefully down at her left shoe and sure enough the silver tape had worn through and a larger section of sole had pulled away from the canvas so that it made a soft, flapping sound with each step. She’d have to get some more tape until she could get to the thrift store.
“There’s a guard,” Ellen told her. “You have to sign in.”
“Do you see a gift shop?” Temerity asked.
Ellen looked through the glass doors into the lobby of the hospital. The guard sat at a security desk in front of the elevator banks, and tucked into a corner of the lobby on the left was a small shop selling flowers and cards. “Yes,” she said.
“Good, I’ll go in and buy some balloons or something and then we’ll head right up to see our friend’s new baby. Common enough. I don’t think anyone would question that.”
Ellen thought it sounded risky, but it was the best idea they had, so she took Temerity to the door of the gift shop and left her to negotiate the transaction. In a few minutes, she tapped her way out, holding three silver balloons tied to a small teddy bear. Temerity inquired from the security guard where Maternity might be and was told to take the second elevator bank to the fifth floor. When he asked her to sign in, she smiled and said that might be difficult but gave him Cindy’s name. He checked for it on the hospital roster, then told her to go on up. Ellen, her eyes fixed firmly on the back of Temerity’s shoes, just followed along like a dinghy on a towrope in her powerful wake.
In the elevator, Ellen told Temerity about finding T-bone’s actual name. Temerity clutched at her arm in excitement. “They must have brought him here,” she said. “It’s the closest trauma center. Okay, first Cindy, then J.C.”
“J.B.”
“Right.”
“What are you planning to do?” Ellen asked nervously as the elevator doors slid open. “Maybe I should just wait here for you.”
“You’re coming,” Temerity said, grabbing a fistful of Ellen’s shirtsleeve. “We’re not going to talk to anyone, just listen—that’s me—and watch—that’s you. Now, where is the nursery?”
Ellen read the signs, and they headed off down a slick hallway dotted with framed children’s art until they came to the nursery. A window looked in on a large room with clear plastic cribs filled with babies bundled in blue or pink blankets. Each crib was marked with a large, handwritten sign declaring the baby’s family name. Ellen searched but did not see any label that said either Newland or Cindy’s last name, Carpenter. “I don’t see it,” Ellen said.
“It’s only been about, what? Fourteen hours? Maybe she hasn’t had it yet.” Temerity stuck out her bottom lip thoughtfully.
The sound of vaguely familiar voices caught Ellen’s attention. Standing a little ways down the hall were the Newlands. They were involved in a heated discussion, and Ellen couldn’t quite make out what was being said. She leaned toward Temerity and whispered, “It’s them.”
Temerity cocked her head to listen and then motioned that they should move a little closer. There were a few chairs in a small waiting area close to where the Newlands were arguing in restrained, tired voices, and Ellen steered Temerity toward those. They sat down and listened.
“This is outrageous. I’m just stunned. I can’t believe she didn’t tell us,” Edward Newland was saying.
“But she’s a beautiful baby,” Susan countered. “I know we said that it’s not what we wanted, but it’s been so long and . . .”
“You aren’t seriously considering this,” her husband said. He looked at her searchingly. “I thought we wanted a child that people would think was ours. We discussed this in depth. Nothing against mixed families, but we didn’t want to put a child through that.”
“Would it be so bad?” Susan asked, and Ellen heard in her voice a human pleading that hadn’t been there before.
“Yes!” her husband insisted. “She should have told us the father was black!” He shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he half moaned.
“Ed, please.” Susan put a hand on his arm. “I want a family. I’ve wanted a family for so long. What difference does it make if this baby’s skin is a different color from ours? We would love her just the same.” She burst into tears, and instead of comforting her, her husband took a step back as though she were contagious.
“What difference does it make?” Incredulous, Edward leaned toward his wife. “Why are you acting like we never talked about this and both decided against it? We might as well run up a flag that says ‘Adopted, we weren’t capable of having our own child.’”
“What a dick,” Temerity whispered under her breath.
But Ellen was watching Susan Newland. A nurse was coming down the hallway from a double door marked DELIVERY, pushing one of the plastic cribs. Susan’s eyes, tear-filled, followed the crib as the nurse pushed it through the nursery door.
“Let’s go,” Edward Newland said wearily to his wife, grasping her arm. “We’re done here. You’ve been through enough, we both have.”
But Susan pulled roughly away. “I’m not going.” She said it with so much conviction that even Temerity sat up and looked impressed. “A black child might not have been our first choice, but maybe that child has come into our life for a reason.”
“What reason?” Edward licked his lips as though his mouth had gone dry. “So that we can be the desperate, infertile parents with the ethnic kid? So the kid will have to explain to everyone in her life why her parents are white and she’s not? I thought we agreed that wouldn’t be fair to the child.” He was pleading, but Susan looked so affronted that he stepped in closer to her, lowering his voice. “Listen, honey. I know how you’re feeling right now. I know you’re disappointed, but there will be other babies.”
“Better ones? Whiter ones?” she asked, and there was steel in her voice.
Edward began to plead in earnest. “That’s not fair. I’m not a racist, and I want us to have a family too. You know that! We agreed. Why are you making me the bad guy? Do you want a child to be ridiculed and scoffed at? Kids can be ruthless!” He stopped to take a couple of deep, calming breaths.
Well, I can’t disagree with that, Ellen thought.
“It doesn’t have to be like that!” Susan said, softening and clutching at his arm. “People don’t think that way anymore, things have changed.”
He snapped. “The partners at the firm think that way and you know it! We show up at the company Christmas party with that little bundle and I can say good-bye to ever making partner. It migh
t not be fair, it might even be sad and pathetic, I’m not arguing with that. But it’s the unfair, sad, pathetic reality.”
The door to the nursery opened and the maternity nurse stuck her head out. “Mr. and Mrs. Newland? Would you like to come in while we bathe the baby? Then you can feed her if you like.”
Susan kept her eyes fixed on her husband’s face. Edward shuffled his feet uncomfortably and mumbled something inaudible. Watching his eyes intently as though tracking a target, Susan said very clearly, “I’ll be right with you.” She waited for the door to close before she spoke. “I’m making a choice, Edward. You have to do the same. You go home with me and that child, or you go home alone.”
“Susan, please, you’re not thinking rationally.” His eyes were wide with fear.
“On the contrary, I’ve never felt so lucid,” Susan said to him. With tears streaming down her face, tears that Ellen was sure Temerity could hear clearly in her voice, she said, “I’ll be here. Let me know what you decide.”
She turned toward the door, but before she’d gone two steps, Edward said in a tortured voice, “We can’t do this, and you know why.”
Susan stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back. “I’m sorry that I had a relationship with Jeff. But you were the one who wanted a separation, not me. I know he’s black. I know that you think everyone will assume it’s Jeff’s child, but I just don’t give a damn anymore what everyone else thinks. I’m sick to death of it.” She leaned forward and touched his arm. He flinched and wouldn’t look at her. “I guess if you don’t understand that, then we feel differently and there’s nothing more to say.”
She smiled with heartbreaking sadness, and then turned and went through the nursery door.
Edward Newland leaned against the wall and watched, his face a twisted mask of pain, as the nurse picked up the tiny baby and placed her in his wife’s arms. Then, with a bitter exhale, he turned and strode away down the hall.
“Do you want me to tell you what happened?” Ellen asked Temerity.
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