A Veil Removed

by Michelle Cox

  Elsie sat down gingerly next to Melody and bashfully gave a nod to the other girl in the room, Cynthia, who was another of Melody’s friends, but she couldn’t muster the courage to look at either of the two young men.

  “Yes, do go on, Douglas!” encouraged Cynthia. “You’ll love this, Elsie!”

  “Oh, yes, Douglas is so very entertaining, isn’t he?” Charlie said with a grin. “I rather think poor old Jocko really did die, and Douglas here was too dense to notice!”

  “What a brute you are, Charlie!” Melody laughed. “That simply can’t be true!”

  “Yes, if it is true, then his ghost is particularly clever, as he jumped up and nipped me right after,” Douglas said with a shrug as held up his little finger and winked at Elsie, one dimple showing on his cheek. Elsie had to admit he was awfully handsome, and she could see why Melody liked him. She observed, however, that Melody never made it obvious how she really felt about him and was sometimes, in Elsie’s opinion anyway, downright rude to the hapless Douglas. It was clear that Melody was an accomplished flirt, and she in truth reminded Elsie, at times, of Henrietta.

  “Yes, we must leave poor Douglas alone. He has such a sad little life that the whole of his Christmas break was spent teaching his little dog tricks. Have you ever heard anything more pathetic?” Charlie said in an aside to Cynthia. “Whereas I spent the whole of my holidays with my aunt and uncle in Los Angeles,” he said proudly.

  “Ooh! Los Angeles!” Cynthia swooned, turning her attention to him fully. “Did you really, Charlie?”

  “I sure did.”

  “Did you go to Hollywood?”

  “We did, as a matter of fact,” he said, shooting Douglas a look of triumph.

  Douglas merely tucked his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs before him in the most casual way, giving Charlie a grin as he did so. “Well, go on, then,” he said, smirking. “We’re all enthralled.”

  “Ooh! Did you see Clark Gable? Or Maybe Gary Cooper?” Cynthia exclaimed.

  “Well, can’t say that I did. But we did get a smashing tour. Even got to see Irene Dunne’s dressing room.”

  “Imagine!” Cynthia cried.

  “I have it in mind to maybe head out there again at some point. I wouldn’t mind working in Hollywood. Palm trees all around,” Charlie said smoothly. “Sure beats all this snow and ice.”

  “Is that before or after you get the law degree your father wants?” Douglas put in, drawing his legs up now and crossing them in one fluid motion and resting his chin in his hand as he balanced it on his knee.

  “After, of course, old boy. You can come along if you wish. I’m sure there’re plenty of jobs for the likes of you—custodian, maybe, or street sweeper.”

  “I say,” Douglas said, ignoring Charlie’s jabs, “speaking of Hollywood, we should all go to the pictures this evening. What do you say, girls?”

  “Oh, yes!” Cynthia gushed. “Marvelous! Let’s!”

  “Well, we can’t go like this,” Melody said to Douglas, inclining her head toward Elsie. “You’d have to come up with a third man.”

  “Of course I would! What do you take me for?” Douglas asked her.

  “An idiot,” Charlie put in quickly.

  “Say!” Douglas said with pretend hurt. “Better an idiot than a cad— wouldn’t you say, girls? Anyway, I just happen to know that Bernie Talbot is dying to see Captain Blood, the new Errol Flynn film. In fact, he’d really be rather annoyed if he found out we went and didn’t ask him.”

  “Oh, no!” Elsie said hurriedly, realizing a bit too late that they were trying to compensate for her. She had been thinking about poor Gunther, actually. It had been Charlie’s comment about custodians or street sweepers that had started her down that road of thought.

  “Don’t . . . don’t ask him on my account! Though I’m very grateful, to be sure,” she said, smiling uncomfortably. “I . . . I can’t tonight.”

  “Why ever not?” Melody asked.

  “It’s . . . it’s just that I promised my mother I’d go and see her.”

  “Go and see her?” Melody exclaimed. “You just got here!”

  “Yes, I know,” Elsie said, shifting her weight and, in desperation, stuffing her hands under her thighs. “But . . . I . . . my brothers only left for boarding school just this week, and she’s terribly upset. She shouldn’t be, I know, but she’s . . . she’s not been well,” she said, pulling her hands back out and trying to fold them on her lap as she had been taught by Mrs. Hutchings. That venerable lady would have been horrified just now at seeing her attempt to sit on them, but Elsie couldn’t always remember the right thing to do at any given moment—there were always so many things to consider.

  “Oh! I didn’t realize!” Melody said. “Then of course you should go. How awful for you, though. It does sound tremendously dull.”

  “Perhaps we should all come with you?” Cynthia offered unenthusiastically. “We could play cards?”

  “Oh, no!” Elsie said hurriedly. “But . . . but thank you,” she managed to say.

  “I can’t say I blame you, Elsie,” Charlie put in. “You wouldn’t want Douglas here anywhere near civilized society. He’s not only an idiot, but he’s also a terrible klutz, not to mention a dolt.”

  “Anything else?” Douglas said wryly.

  “Boys!” Melody said. “It’s time you left. If we really are going out tonight, then we positively must study now. You’ll have to leave,” she commanded, pointing stiffly toward the door.

  Douglas and Charlie promptly stood up. “Well, we know when we’re not wanted!” Charlie exclaimed dramatically.

  “You’re not!” Melody laughed.

  “Have you ever, for the life of you, met girls like this, Dougie?” Charlie said, putting his arm around Douglas.

  “As a matter of fact, no. The girls back home are much nicer.”

  “Well, why don’t you go back there, then! The nerve of the two of you!” Cynthia exclaimed.

  “Have mercy,” Charlie implored, folding his hands together in mock supplication. “Douglas can’t go home, remember? Jocko’s dead!”

  They all laughed at that, and even Elsie couldn’t help but smile.

  “There’s always a wise guy, isn’t there?” Douglas asked of no one in particular as they made their way into the foyer. Charlie bent to sign them out while Douglas retrieved their coats.

  “Sorry you can’t make it, Elsie,” Douglas said sincerely, slipping into his. “Maybe next time?”

  “Yes, next time.”

  “Promise?” he said with a grin. She suspected he was being nice to her on Melody’s account.

  “Yes, promise,” she managed to say with a smile. There was a part of her that really would have liked to go with them. She wished she could be as light-hearted and gay. It seemed so easy for them.

  “But what am I going to do with Bernie now?” Charlie asked. “He really will be cast low if we don’t ask him to come.”

  “Oh, I’ll find someone. Don’t worry,” Melody said. “Vivian Anderson or Rosalind Chambers, perhaps.”

  “Not Rosalind,” Charlie said. “She never stops talking. We won’t hear a minute of the show!”

  “Yes, it would be a terrible shame if someone were to talk more than you,” Melody tinkled, and everyone laughed again.

  “Well, ta-ta, girls!” Douglas said then, tipping the cap he had just thrust upon his head an inch above his sandy hair. “See you later!” he said singingly and stepped out with a flourish.

  Cynthia promptly shut the door behind them, leaned against it, and looked over at Melody and Elsie. “Can you believe those two?” she asked with a wide grin. “They’re so terribly funny, but I’d never let them know it!”

  “Never let them know it?” Melody exclaimed. “You’ve already made it much too obvious!”

  “Well it’s obvious you’re head over heels for Douglas, so I wouldn’t act so superior!” Cynthia countered, causing Melody to catch her arm and entwine it with hers. Slowly th
ey made their way back into the parlor.

  “Which one do you like?” Cynthia asked Elsie in a low voice, as she stood arm in arm with Melody.

  “Oh, don’t ask her!” Melody put in. “She’s very mysterious. My guess is that she has a lover somewhere, but she won’t say. She’s a very dark horse, this one, as Pops would say!”

  “Ooh! Delicious!” Cynthia whispered loudly, surreptitiously glancing at the front desk to see if Sr. Joseph was listening. Sr. Joseph, however, seemed to be concentrating on writing in something that had the decided look of a grade book to it. “Do tell!” Cynthia begged, looking back at Elsie. “You simply must, Elsie! It’s rather mean to keep it all to yourself. Is it a Loyola boy?” she asked eagerly.

  Elsie felt her face grow warm. She had no wish of course to talk about love or lovers at all, much less in front of one of the sisters. She was trying hard to adopt an image of purity and virtue.

  “Don’t be silly,” Elsie finally managed to answer. “I’m . . . I’m not in love!” she stammered, as she glanced over to where Sr. Joseph was still bent over her work. “Anyway, aren’t we going to study?” she asked, gesturing awkwardly toward the library.

  “Oh, leave her alone,” Melody said to Cynthia. “It’s all right if she wants to have a secret from us,” she added, giving Elsie a little wink. “It keeps us guessing! Come on; we’d better get started.”

  “Aww, we’re not really going to study, are we?” Cynthia whined. “It’s Friday night!”

  Melody gave her a rueful look and let out a little laugh. “Perhaps we’d better give it a miss for tonight, wouldn’t you say?” she said, looking at Elsie hopefully. “Seeing as I have to find a date for poor Bernie. Would you mind?” she asked Elsie.

  “Oh, no!” Elsie said quickly. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you trouble.”

  “Don’t be silly!” Melody exclaimed. “And you should stop apologizing all the time.”

  “Sorry,” Elsie said, and all three of them laughed.

  Melody and Cynthia left then, and Elsie slowly gathered up her books. She preferred to be alone, actually—a feeling she found peculiar. She had been pining away for so long at home, wanting company or someone to talk to, and now that she was here, surrounded by people, she often felt the need to be alone. Perhaps it was just a habit she needed to break—like so many others, she thought with a sigh. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing Ma tonight, knowing she would be in a bad mood, but she couldn’t just abandon her.

  She had promised Ma last Sunday, the unfortunate day slated for not only the boys’ removal, but also her own, that she would come the following Friday and spend an evening with her.

  The boys’ leaving had been a terrible farewell scene, of course. Grandfather’s man of business, Bernstein, had shown up as scheduled, bright and early, to escort them to the train station and to make sure everything was in order for their journey out east. Eddie had descended from the upper floor of the house, eager and bright, having decided at some point that being sent to boarding school was to be seen as an adventure and was determined to engage it as such. Herbie had followed down the stairs, perceivably pale and withdrawn, but putting a brave face on it, especially in front of Ma. All might have been well if it hadn’t been for Jimmy, who not only sniffled his way through breakfast, but also gave in to tears and loud wailings when it was time to board the car. He clung to Ma’s skirt and then to Elsie’s before Bernstein took matters into his own hands and scolded him for his infantile blubbering. Jimmy had become subdued after that and dutifully allowed himself to be led out to the cars, but sat peeled to the window, staring back at Ma and Elsie, who waved forlornly on the front steps until the car disappeared into the throng of traffic on Kedzie.

  Only when they were out of view did Ma break down into sobs, a sight which Elsie had only witnessed a few times in her whole life. Elsie had predicted that Ma might be upset, but her loud wailings took Elsie very much by surprise considering Ma’s normal depressed disinterest. Elsie carefully persuaded Ma back into the house and up to her small sitting room, whispering little words of comfort even as she tried not to feel guilty that she, too, would be leaving in a few hours hence. She had confessed to Henrietta the night before, when Henrietta had turned up briefly to say good-bye to her brothers, slipping each of them a small box of goodies and extra spending money, just in case Grandfather did not plan to provide them a monthly allowance, that she could not but help feel that this sad state of affairs was all her fault, really.

  Henrietta had told Elsie, in response to her downcast state, that Grandfather’s decision to send the boys to boarding school had nothing whatever to do with Elsie’s behavior, that it was a plan set in motion long before her affair with Harrison had ever happened. Her theory was that Grandfather was just using her unfortunate situation with the lieutenant as a means of making her feel responsible and to thus further control her, as Ma, actually, had warned them. Elsie supposed she believed Henrietta, but it brought her little real comfort.

  She tried to repeat Henrietta’s words to herself as she rummaged through Ma’s top dresser drawer looking for her nerve pills, having deposited Ma in a slump on the love seat in her private sitting room, where she sat flopped over like a wet dishrag. Elsie finally found the pills just as Odelia walked in with a pot of chamomile tea and some small cardamom cakes. Elsie handed Ma a pill, which she willingly swallowed, as she sat up to drink some tea.

  Elsie sat down then beside her, watching her, and could not help but feel a little irritated, actually, with Henrietta. Why was she always the one who had to deal with Ma? But as soon as this churlish thought entered her head, Elsie immediately scolded herself for her selfishness, surprised by it in fact and worried. She had never felt irritated with Henrietta before, except perhaps years ago when Henrietta had been working as a hair curler demonstrator at Marshall Fields and had been constantly imploring Elsie to “smarten yourself up.”

  While she wished that Henrietta could be more on hand to help, she knew that this was unrealistic and that, in truth, Henrietta had done more than her share over the years. Likewise, Henrietta was Clive’s wife now, Elsie reminded herself, and she had a whole new life to attend to. Just last night, for example, Henrietta had whispered to her something about how she and Clive suspected that Alcott’s death had not been an accident and that Clive had been beaten in an alleyway outside of the Aragon on New Year’s Eve. Elsie had been thoroughly shocked by this news. How was Henrietta always getting herself involved in some sort of mystery or danger? she wondered nervously and supposed it came from marrying a detective. She had been about to relate her own strange New Year’s Eve affair, but just as she was beginning it, Jimmy had wandered in and distracted them. Well, that was probably for the best, she reasoned later. Best to keep all that to herself.

  No, looking after Ma was definitely her job now, Elsie sighed, as she offered to get Ma her magazine. She sat with her for some time, herself reading Trollope’s The Way We Live Now, having decided that Trollope might be safer than Jane Austen in his ability, or lack thereof, rather, to conjure up extreme romantic notions, until Ma dropped off to sleep. Quietly, then, Elsie got up and finished packing the last of her things. About an hour later, Karl came up to her room to tell her that it was time to go and to carry any last items down to the car. Ma had not emerged from her room at all, so Elsie went back up to say good-bye.

  Ma lazily opened her eyes as Elsie knelt in front of her, resting her hand on Ma’s knee as she had done as a little girl. Whether Ma was still partially asleep or just momentarily disoriented, Elsie wasn’t sure, but she seemed to not fully grasp that this was Elsie’s farewell. Perhaps she was already so used to her leaving to go to Aunt Agatha’s that she was confusing it with that. Elsie had expected perhaps some tears on Ma’s part—maybe not as many as she had cried for the boys, but maybe a few? Crushingly, however, none seemed to be had, and indeed, they somehow found their way to Elsie’s eyes instead.

  “Leavin’ now, are y
ou?” Ma croaked out, shifting her weight in the chair.

  “Yes. Good-bye, Ma,” Elsie said, still on her knees in front of her mother. Elsie reached for her hand and squeezed it before Ma pulled it away.

  “When you comin’ back?” Ma asked.

  “I thought I’d come back and see you on Friday, remember? And have a little game of rummy?”

  “Yes, all right,” Ma said with a dismissive nod.

  “I’ll try hard, Ma,” Elsie said pleadingly.

  “All right then.”

  “At school, I mean.”

  Ma looked momentarily puzzled, but merely waved her hand listlessly. “Best get going then. Tell Odelia to come up.”

  Elsie rose unsteadily, tears blurring her vision as she stood awkwardly in front of her mother. This was not how she envisioned her departure, the beginning of her new life, to go. “Well, bye, Ma,” she said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, and hurried downstairs.

  And if Elsie felt sorry for herself as Karl slowly pulled away from the house on Palmer Square, no one on the steps to wave good-bye, she soon forgot it upon her arrival at Mundelein. She had spent the Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks hovering between her two worlds—well, three, really, if she counted Aunt Agatha and the Exleys, and she was tired of it. She longed to be part, fully part, of just one world, and she had most definitely chosen to give her heart to this one, the one before her now—Mundelein, with its studies and the sisters and the girls. She would try to see them as her family now. And though she told herself that she wouldn’t mind completely cutting herself off from her family at home—she quickly pushed away a stray image of Doris and Donny that had come to mind—she knew that to do so was unrealistic, even if she wanted to, which, of course, she didn’t really. She knew she still had a duty to at least check on them from time to time.

  In the confusion and anxiety and thrill of the first week, however, she had nearly forgotten her promise to Ma to return. She had only remembered just this morning when she woke up. It had cast a bit of a cloud over the whole day, but she tried to shake it off. She also had an oddly disquieting feeling she was forgetting something else as well, but she couldn’t think of what it could be.