Invisible Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  “I’m pretty sure it’s your turn.” Ellen grimaced at her own joke.

  Temerity laughed out loud. “Who knew you could be so loquacious?”

  Encouraged, Ellen admitted, “Not me. But that’s because I don’t know what ‘loquacious’ means.” She made a mental note to check her worn dictionary.

  “Talkative,” Temerity told her through her bubbling amusement. “The only reason I know what it means is because Justice told me that’s what I was, among other things. Okay, here’s my story: I don’t have many friends. Lots of acquaintances, but the reality is that most seeing people aren’t comfortable being friends with a blind chick. It’s not their fault. I mean, I have a few girlfriends, other musicians mostly, who I can talk to about music and other stuff too, when we take the time, but I know it’s not comfortable for them to meet me out somewhere, for lunch say, much less go see a movie or visit a museum. What would be the point?” She sighed and turned her head toward a light, moist breeze that promised rain. The resulting clouds made the late afternoon darker than usual. Not that Temerity would know that. “I understand, of course, but the unavoidable result is that, more often than not, I’m on my own. That’s definitely been a factor in my becoming a competent musician. I had lots of spare time to practice when I was a kid. Not too many blind kids my age at the Braille Institute. Which, I like to remind myself, is a good thing overall. If it weren’t for Justice, I think I’d just give up on people and play violin by myself all day long.”

  It was Ellen’s turn to sigh. “Heaven,” she half sang.

  Temerity laughed so hard she doubled over and held her stomach. When she had wiped the tears from her eyes, she said, “Oh, I’m so glad I met you. You want to get something to eat?”

  Of course Ellen wanted to get something to eat. After only one sandwich and a few crackers, she was stunned to still be standing. “I don’t go to restaurants,” she reminded.

  “Fine. Let’s pick something up and go to your house since it’s closest. Okay?”

  Resistance was futile. So Ellen found herself standing outside a restaurant while Temerity went in and ordered something she called “taco salads.” Though Ellen was concerned about the use of the word “salad,” she was reassured by the weight of the brown paper bag as she carried it back to her house. When they arrived, she was presented with a new problem. There was no table, and only the one stool that pulled up to the kitchen counter. When she mentioned this, Temerity said, “Fine. I’ll sit on the counter—it’s safer for me to eat sloppy food over the sink anyway—and you can have the stool. That way, you can watch outside. Anything interesting?”

  Ellen took up her usual post, but everything was quiet, so they devoted themselves to eating. Much to Ellen’s relief, the “salad” was a hearty pile of beans, beef, cheese, guacamole, sour cream, fresh tomatoes and lettuce piled into a huge crispy shell. It was delicious, and Ellen enthusiastically consumed even the greens and the fresh tomato, which, before, she would have pushed aside. Temerity too, ate with relish, and Ellen watched her system. Using her fingers to feel the food, she broke off a piece of the shell, piled it with the other ingredients, and ate it like a chip and dip. “Yummy!” she said with her mouth full.

  The heaped pile of nourishment was so filling, in fact, that Ellen couldn’t finish it all. She knew if she’d been alone with no other distractions, she probably would have polished it off just for something to do, but today, after eating only half, a glance out the window drew her interest.

  “Someone is in Cindy’s apartment,” she said.

  Temerity paused with a section of the shell loaded with refried beans and sour cream halfway to her face. “Is it her?”

  Ellen watched as first Cindy and then Janelle came into Cindy’s kitchen. The tall, elegant black woman stood at the window for a moment, gazing out at the dead courtyard, its morbid appearance now replete with the addition of police tape. Then she shook her head sadly and turned away.

  She was reporting all of this to Temerity when the blind girl asked, “And who’s that?”

  Ellen heard the crunch of gravel, and shifted her eyes to the alley to see Edward Newland and a younger man in a suit with a face as interesting as dry white toast making their way toward Cindy’s back door.

  “That,” said Ellen, “is a pissed-off lawyer.”

  Newland did indeed look aggressively angry. His companion just seemed slightly annoyed to be there, glancing around with obvious disgust. As they approached the landing, Ellen heard Edward say, “We’ll try this side first. She won’t be expecting us to show up at the back.”

  He went up the two steps and knocked smartly. In a moment, Janelle’s face appeared, first in the window, and then she opened the door but held it firmly and blocked the opening with her body.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a steady voice.

  “Is Ms. Carpenter at home?”

  “Yes, but what do you want?”

  “I have something to give her,” Edward growled like a mean, wounded dog. It was easy to hear, even from across the tiny courtyard.

  “Give it to me.”

  “No can do. It needs to go straight to her.”

  Janelle put one hand on the jamb and looked Edward straight in the eye. “Listen. I know we had some hard words at the hospital, and I’m really sorry for your wife, but this is not necessary. We’ll pay you back for the doctor and hospital fees. I’m already talking to my insurance company about the adoption—it will probably all be covered. If not, we’ll pay it out of our own pockets. I told you that.”

  Though Ellen couldn’t see his face, she could well imagine Edward Newland sneering as he said, “Oh, this is a different issue. I’m suing her.”

  Janelle put one hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. “And what,” she asked in an exhausted voice, “do you hope to get out of suing someone who has nothing? Look around, what could you possibly expect you would get?”

  “That doesn’t concern you,” he said, and the sharpness of his voice was so full of himself that it sliced clearly up to the second floor. “Just get her. Or I’ll do it myself.”

  Janelle turned around and Cindy, looking terrified, appeared in the doorway. Janelle stayed right next to her.

  “Cindy Carpenter?” the younger man standing with Newland asked. When Cindy nodded hesitantly, he thrust papers at her hand and she took them automatically, holding them away from her as though she thought they might burst into flame. “You have been served,” he said. With a nod to Edward, the man turned, walked back across the gravel and disappeared down the alley.

  “What . . . what is this?” Cindy asked.

  The taller woman laid a reassuring arm across the girl’s shoulders. “It’s papers, just papers.” She took the bundle from Cindy’s shaking hands. “We’ll call a lawyer when we get home and sort things out. Go finish packing your things.” Cindy did as she was told and Janelle turned back to Edward Newland.

  “Really?” she asked. “You didn’t even want her baby, and now you’re going to put her through this?”

  Edward turned outward a bit and looked up at the empty, darkening gray sky as though it were an especially clear night and he was admiring the stars. Instinctively, Ellen moved back from the screen a few inches. “I never said I didn’t want her baby, just not that one. Because of her actions, my wife has suffered undue emotional distress and put extreme pressure on our relationship. All of her pain and suffering have clearly been predicated by Cindy Carpenter’s deception. And Cindy Carpenter is going to make restitution.”

  Janelle braced herself by crossing her arms and setting her uneven feet. “Look, I’m sorry you’re hurt and disappointed, but what do you hope to gain from this?”

  Edward Newland put his hands in his pockets and rocked from side to side, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “No more than what we originally contracted for.”

  “You are not
getting my brother’s baby,” Janelle said, still controlled, but each word was a shard of ice in a strong wind. “And you have no legal right to take her, you know that.”

  “Oh, I know the law,” he snipped. “I did a little research, it seems your baby mama is wanted for some minor drug charges in her home state. Since the DA and I went to law school together, those charges could land her in jail for up to four full years.”

  “What do you want from her?” Janelle asked coldly.

  He shrugged as if it were simple. “A baby, but this time I’ll pick the father. I’ll give her six months to recover.”

  Janelle reeled back and stared in disbelief. Edward Newland turned away with deliberate slowness. Then, as though remembering something, he turned back. For the first time, Ellen could hear him struggling to control his own hurt as he said, “Oh, and part of the deal is not a word of this to anyone, especially not to my wife. She’s been injured by Ms. Carpenter’s negligent actions enough already.” His voice broke slightly. He turned and strode away. Ellen watched him wipe angrily at the tears he couldn’t control.

  “Holy shit,” Temerity whispered.

  Across the way, Janelle closed the door and they both heard her double lock it as if that would protect Cindy from the threat outside. Ellen turned to Temerity. “Can he do that?”

  “Which part? I mean, I’m not sure, but the whole scheme sounds like blackmail, I think. I mean, maybe he can pull off the suing part—you can basically sue anyone for anything, though I doubt many judges would let it go very far. But it sounds like what he’s really threatening is to make her life miserable unless she does what he wants. He certainly seems to have both the resources and the revolting disposition to go through with those threats.”

  Ellen thought about Susan Newland and the way she’d told her husband that he was going home with her and the baby, or alone. “Do you think his wife knows about this?”

  “From what he just ended with, I’m guessing no. Plus, she didn’t strike me as someone who was without scruples.”

  Ellen figured it was better to ask. “And scruples, in this case, would mean that she . . . ?”

  “Had a conscience that told her not to do something so downright egregious, that’s what they mean in this case anyway.” Ellen sighed, and Temerity heard it, of course. She added, “‘Egregious’ means ‘really evil,’ by the way. Great word.”

  “Oh,” Ellen exclaimed, surprising herself. “I’ve seen that word in a book.” She didn’t, however, say that when she had sounded it out, she had thought it was pronounced “e-gree-ghee-ess.”

  “What’s that?” Temerity pointed one finger to the ceiling.

  It took a second to shift her focus from below to above, but when she did, Ellen heard the footsteps as well.

  “Never a dull moment in exciting Morningside,” Temerity commented dryly.

  The footsteps moved around the building and in a few seconds Ellen could see the young man on the roof. It was fully twilight by now, but it was plenty light enough for her to make him out; he was headed for the large vent.

  “It’s him,” she hissed. “It’s the guy who shot T-bone,” she added, reverting to the nickname in her excitement.

  Temerity whistled a low note. “Guess he made bail.”

  From the street below, a police siren erupted suddenly and the man froze, and then backtracked, diving for cover behind a fan unit the size of a refrigerator, rusted with long disuse.

  “Why would he come back here?” Temerity seemed stunned.

  “Not sure,” Ellen said and immediately felt rotten. Was she really going to lie to the only person who’d ever shared her own secrets? She didn’t want to say more, she didn’t want to free the partially formed thought that had been nagging at her, but it was like a giant hot-air balloon gathering lift, straining at its tethers. Ellen’s deeply entrenched reticence to expose herself was holding on to those ropes with its thousand tiny hands, pulling with all its might to keep the idea pinned to the ground. Against every inclination Ellen opened her mouth, and with a mighty wrench, the balloon lifted off, floating up into the open air, broken ropes trailing behind it as Ellen said, “Actually, I think I do know.”

  “You do?” Temerity asked, and Ellen marveled that a blind face could light up so much.

  Ellen checked the roof. The man was still hunkered down out of sight. On the street below, the cops blipped their siren again and shouted something indistinguishable from the other city noise. She went on. “That night, the guy, he stopped and got rid of the bag he was carrying when he climbed up. He didn’t have it when he jumped. I kept thinking about that later. Remember the cops said that there were no fingerprints, and no gun?”

  Temerity frowned, cocking her head to one side. “Yes, I remember that. So?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Ellen muttered, the tiny spark of courage that had dared to raise its cautious head wavering, “but I think I know where he put the stuff he stole—his jacket, and maybe the gun.”

  “Which would have his fingerprints!” Temerity exclaimed. “We can call that detective and tell him.” But Ellen made a low noise of disagreement.

  “I can’t talk to them,” Ellen said. “If I do, they’ll want me to talk to other people, and then a courtroom—they’ll all see me.” Her throat closed in panic, choking her off.

  She swallowed hard and gulped for air, recovering enough to force out the next words. “And you can’t say you’re me this time either. They need someone to identify the guy.” Her voice was wavering with shock. The thought of facing a busy police station full of people had sent her into paroxysms of shuddering. Her upper arm was itching furiously, and she rubbed at it. Outside her window, on the street side, she heard the police shout at someone to get out of their car. Apparently, the man on the roof did too. He raised his head and was peering cautiously over the edge. If they were going to do anything, it had to be now.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Temerity said, stroking Ellen’s back. “Right,” she said with less enthusiasm. “Well, we need to do two things.”

  Ellen groaned, but secretly she was relieved it was only two. “Which are?”

  “Scare him off for now, and get the evidence later. Is he still there?”

  “Yes, but you’d better hurry.” Without pausing to hear Ellen’s further thoughts on the matter, Temerity cranked open the slats the whole way and started yelling. “Get off the roof! I’ll shoot you if you aren’t gone in five seconds. Damn teenagers! Get off of there!”

  The man, confused as to the source of the threats, crouched instinctively. His head swiveled from side to side, but he made no move to leave. Ellen picked up a spatula with a metal handle. The plastic tip had come off the end, leaving the handle a hollow metal tube. She stuck this between the open window slats, through a hole in the screen, and pointed it at the far roof. It was the closest thing to a gun she could come up with on two seconds’ notice. She whispered, “Okay, a gun muzzle is sticking out the window.”

  “You have a gun?” Temerity’s brow shot up.

  “No. It’s a spatula, but it’s not loaded.”

  “Ooh, good thinking,” Temerity whispered back, then she yelled again. “I’m gonna count to five and then fill your butt with lead!”

  The young man spotted the window with the “muzzle” pointed at him. Potential bullets were apparently better motivators than shouting women. He spun, ran across the rooftop and repeated his leap to the next building.

  Temerity had heard his retreating run and then the thump as he hit the roof next door. She did a little dance and sang, “Yipee ki-yay! I felt like I was in the Old West!”

  “You sounded like it,” Ellen told her, still watching the roof nervously. She was pretty sure now that the kid she’d seen throw a rock at the curtain lady’s dog had been sent to do this same job and that this guy would be back, or send someone else.

&nbs
p; “Now, phase two.” Temerity rubbed her hands together and Ellen did not care for the keenness in her voice.

  “But . . . it’s the roof. It’s . . . high. You have to climb to get up there. Climb,” she repeated in case Temerity had missed it the first time.

  Temerity laughed. “I’m sure we’ll manage, my intrepid friend. But I do not want you trying to do this without me.”

  Ellen looked at the other girl like she was crazy. Which was pointless, of course. She thought that “intrepid” meant something like brave, but either she was mistaken in that or she was absolutely sure Temerity couldn’t be serious. The last thing Ellen intended to do was scale a wall onto a roof and then possibly shimmy down a vent, looking for contraband.

  “Yeah, you don’t need to worry about that,” Ellen said.

  Temerity said, “It’s starting to sprinkle. Okay, so, how did he get up there? I mean, this time. I know how he did it the night he shot J.B.”

  Sure enough, when Ellen checked outside, a light drizzle had begun to fall, though she had to listen hard to make out the baby-soft patter on the wooden stairs. Impressed again by Temerity’s auditory prowess, she answered automatically. “I don’t know,” she said. “There’s a fire escape ladder on the far side that only goes to the second floor.”

  “So we’re at an advantage. We’re already on the second floor. Is there a ladder from this side?”

  Ellen thought. “No. The flat roof of the first floor is only on the left side of my kitchen, and my fire escape is my back door.”

  “Which doesn’t open.”

  Though this thought was slightly alarming, the apartment was so small that Ellen had never understood why it needed a second exit.

  “Okay.” Temerity began to do the thinking rock from side to side. “What we need is a way to get up there.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Once we’re up there, we can just walk around the front of the building and check it out. Right?”

  Try as she might, Ellen couldn’t find a way to disagree, not with the assessment anyway. “Right.”