Unexpected Gifts

by Mallery, S. R.

The following Sunday he showed up with a Shamrock, he did, wetting me eyes and doling out fond memories. An Indian doll was for Rose, who be proudly carrying it over to her Corner, and a fountain pen for Tony who smiled but I knew it'd be misplaced by nightfall.

  This time the conversation stayed on safer ground it did, with Tony participating as much as the rest of us, but whenever I glanced over at Joe, he be watching me every gesture like a hawk. At one point, when Tony be mentioning that he thought I should dye me hair to look more like Jean Harlowe in Hells Angels, I was surprised at the Indian's sharp reaction.

  “She's perfect the way she is!” he sputtered, his dark eyes flashing and his words leaving me with a smile that be lasting a good week.

  After that, I be singing all the time—standing at the kitchen sink, making fresh bread and butter, tending to me shamrock in the kitchen window ledge where the sunlight showed up a mere hour a day. The pull towards Sunday be getting stronger by the minute and Saturday nights, lying next to Tony's back, his cologne mixed with whiskey, I be picturing Joe kissing me, touching me in all the right places, and it be all I could do to stop from letting out a moan or two.

  “Why do I love Joe more than Papa?” Rose whispered to me one night after a bedtime story. Her eyes searched mine, knowing the answer, but I guess she be needing to hear it anyway.

  I could have answered, “I be feeling the same way, love,” but I said nothing. Instead, I'd be thinking of something Mama used to say about Da after a bad night. “You can't pluck a frog!” she be repeating over and over again. Then she'd give a huge sigh, her body as heavy as the soft hills surrounding us, and slowly, she'd carry on with her chores, like the loyal wife she was supposed to be.

  From the moment Tony, Joe, and I walked into the Apollo Theater up in Harlem, dressed to the Nine's, as Tony'd say, the music, dancing, laughter, applause all be awakening something dormant in me. Cab Calloway and his orchestra were brilliant, as he be performing his famous Hi-di-ho song, and the Nicholas Brothers, leap-frogging over each other down a staircase on stage, then throwing up their arms in unison and landing in splits on the steps each time, took me breath away they did.

  “Why you two like this place is beyond me! Why, there's nothing but a bunch of jive-ass darkies here, jitter-bugging their way to hell!” Tony snapped, his hand almost knocking over his champagne flute.

  I be sensing Joe stiffen as me stomach turned to bile, and it took all me strength and wifely loyalties, to be hanging onto Tony's arm, not Joe's when we exited the club.

  Three weeks later Tony came home early, unsociable, wanting his peace. Rose asked after Joe, and the way he avoided us both I knew something was not right. We ate supper in silence for a good ten minutes before he be mentioning Joe had gotten fired that day. His tone was flat, matter-of-fact, but his hands moved faster than usual and he kept staring at the table.

  Me head felt as clear as a bell. “I'll wager you not be standing up for him, am I right? Joe, who be arriving with presents and making our Sundays filled with laughter and fine table talk. Joe, who be treating our daughter, for the first time in her life, like she was important and not a piece of furniture. Our friend Joe, right?”

  There was no answer and no more Joe. For me there'd be no more singing and Rose's organizing and reorganizing hit record heights they did. Then fate played its hand. A Saturday it was, starting out pleasant for once, with Tony's taking Rose and me to see The Three Little Pigs at the Loew's Sheraton. Who knows, maybe he be changing. But inside the theater, when I was truthful about the smell of whiskey about himself, he took off like a wild boar I saw once, that be fleeing Mam's broom when she caught it invading her precious garden.

  Rose and I lumbered home, our feet made of lead, and by the time we reached our main hall, I had me mind made up that once inside the apartment I'd be making hot chocolate straight away for her, a wee penance for her da. Then I opened the door and heard the strangest sound. Click-scrape-click-scrape. There be Tony in our bedroom, scooping up me money!

  I became unglued as Mam used to say of Da. As unglued as a cat fighting for its life. Me words turned uglier and uglier by the second. His words were blurry like an early morning haze, but I be too far gone. This be full-blown warfare.

  Strange what the mind does. When he came at me and knocked me across the room, I be remembering the time Da flung some of his things around the cottage in a drunken rant about the high price of ale. Did those books and plates feel as much pain as I be feeling? With a bruise on me arse popping up and a loud knocking at the door, me tears were streaking down fast, me sobs, finally released.

  The Gods answered me prayer they did. All of a sudden, big arms be cradling me, and me husband be retreating into the bedroom like the few times the British admitted they were beaten. I took a quick, rickety breath—Joe had come back for me.

  Living in Brooklyn was comforting, but a wee bit strange. Ach, Joe's people seemed pleasant enough don't you know, but the difference between the women and me be as great as the Irish Sea. Yet, like Joe, they be kind to Rose, and just seeing me little girl so happy, I honestly be thinking that maybe everything would turn out right. She and I slept together on a stack of blankets in the far corner of the living room every night and I'd be lying if I said I didn't prefer to sleep with Joe. But after all, I be a married woman, and there be no more talk about that.

  But Tony had pilfered me money and with Joe and me out of work, things looked pretty bleak they did. But once again, it was a radio that be saving the day. Morning, noon, or night, no matter what program be playing, I heard the same advertisement:

  “Laaaaadies and gentlemen! Come to the Second Annual New Jersey Marathon…Dance your way to our two thousand dollar top prize! Anyone can enter, anyone can win. There's no Depression here; just fun, prizes, and a chance to strut your stuff!”

  A week later, Joe and I were standing in line at a huge arena in Hoboken, New Jersey, waiting to sign up to dance, with me worrying about leaving Rose behind with strangers, no matter how good they were with her.

  “What's your story?” someone behind a table asked.

  “What do you mean?” Joe replied.

  “You gotta have a story, kid. The better the story, the more you'll get sprayed.” He saw our puzzled faces. “You two are new in this racket, ain't cha? Sprayed. Getting coins tossed at cha.”

  We both nodded.

  “Well, let's see,” he continued. “Your doll here is a very pretty little lady, but you, my friend, are handsome, but definitely an Indian. You can't be called The Sweetheart Couple, no you really can't. I know! I'll call you's Beauty and the Beast! That's the ticket! Beauty and the Beast!”

  He was very pleased with himself he was as he stamped our applications, APPROVED. Next came a doctor checking us for lice and questioning us about venereal disease and I be thinking I was going to die. The women were shown their lockers, separate from the men, of course, but opening up mine, I be wishing Joe were there. Next to me was a woman who brought all sorts of shiny clothes, with boa feathers, belts, and colorful hats. She smiled at me, but her eyes stayed cold as she slammed her locker door shut with a clank. All around me were women eyeing each other's outfits with only a glance at mine. I suppose there be nothing much to see.

  What was I getting into? Beware of the public house or limpets will be your food.

  After that, we be herded back to the main floor for our Do's, Don't's and Schedules, with Joe slipping in beside me, taking me hand, and calming me heart down to a regular beat.

  “Gather around folks, gather around,” an older judge be croaking at us, his voice as rough as sandpaper. “No profanity or vulgarity. Keep your hands to yourself. Keep clean at all times, both physically and decency wise. Only smoke on your breaks, no other time. No talking out of turn, and as far as the audience is concerned, here are the rules: talking to anyone in the audience is immediate grounds for termination. If you wanna talk to your patron, you have to have all communication done through a judge, see?”


  Finally, menus were passed out before we be told to go to our cots for a rest so we could start fresh that night. The women's cots were fine, but the close proximity be making me nervous. There were complaints of, “I can feel The Curse comin’ on” and “I think I have a bladder infection,” making me blush as red as the brick walls in Detroit. I be thinking I'd never let Rose talk that way, never! Rose. I wonder how she be doing?

  When the first siren blared, me body jerked upward like a fish caught on a line. The air be filling up with the rustle of shoes shoved back on and scrapes and clicks on the floor as we all be heel-toeing it back to the main hall to find our partners.

  Joe and I must have been nervous because when we first started to dance, we be doing a fast jitter-bug to the song, I don't care if the Depression is on/Take me to the Dance Marathon floating out from a huge gramophone horn. That is, until a couple going by us warned, “Slow down. You need to keep your strength!” We readjusted to a smooth sway like many of the seasoned couples, looking around at the surroundings and enjoying our bodies pressed up against each other. I could feel Joe's rocklike excitement against me, enflaming all those feelings that I be trying so hard to ignore and as we moved, somehow me chattering helped to pretend we were not in bed together, only a dance floor.

  “I never thanked you properly for coming to me rescue and for that I apologize, I do.”

  I could feel Joe's arm tighten around me waist. “You are such a good person, Daria. Of course I would help you! From the moment I first met you, I knew you would be someone I could respect and care for.” The last three words be sounding like a lover's whisper at night.

  “He who fills the heart fills the eye,” I be thinking, but said instead, “A friend's eye is a good mirror,” don't you know.”

  He hesitated. “Is—is that all I am to you? A friend?” He searched me flushed face.

  “Ach, Joe. I'm still married I am.”

  But I couldn't help meself. Closing me eyes, I drifted towards his lips, thinking hard on how grand our kiss was going to be.

  The siren blast blew us apart like two fighting cats hit with a wet towel. “Shower Time,” everyone muttered as we be retreating to the men's and women's showers, two separate snakes winding their different ways around a great stone.

  By the time I got into the cold shower and started to lather up, I be told to get a move-on; what gave me the right to be taking so long? I stared at the women in line, their glaring eyes reminding me of the time I got a special award in school and the teacher be patting me on me back, telling the other students how smart I was.

  To make matters worse, back on the dance floor the Emcee made a big announcement. “Folks, we have our first endorsement. The white-haired gentleman sitting in Section Eight wants to sponsor our Beauty and the Beast couple. Couple #237 here—the Indian and the lovely Irish lass.”

  All heads be turning our way, and soon the ripple of “They ain't so great,” “They think they're so hotsie-totsie,” and “Who do they think they are—the King and Queen of Arabee?” be wafting through the air. Me face heated up like a pot of boiling stew until Joe put his huge hand over mine.

  “Daria, Daria, remember we're here for the money. That's all! Who cares what the others think!”

  I smiled up at him until something be hitting me on the shoulder. I heard a tiny clink and looked down at the floor. There was a shiny new dime. Before I knew it, another dime and some pennies came flying, as people from the audience be pelting us with their spare change.

  Joe started to laugh. “Why, we're being sprayed! We're popular. How about that?”

  Still swaying to the music, we both reached down to pick up our Spray. Suddenly, couples nearby be starting to shove us aside, grabbing our scratch and shoving every piece into their own pockets. We instantly became Defenders of our Land we did, ready to battle, just as a judge popped up.

  “Hey, hey, HEY! These coins belong to Beauty and the Beast. The rest of ya's get away. Hand back every coin and keep to your own space or you'll be disqualified!”

  Our money was returned, but at a price. Now we be The Enemy. It didn't help matters either that as I be trudging off to me cot, one of the Emcee's assistant informed me, too loudly in me opinion, “You get an extra two minutes on your cot. Take advantage of it!”

  Sleeping after that be hard it was, the air around me choking with resentment. Why, if I even shifted on me bed, one or two women nearby be snickering or yanking on me sheets.

  The next siren came all too soon and they be dragging a little cannon out on the floor for the Derby Race. What was that? I wondered. I found out soon enough. Bang! went the Big Bertha, as they called it, and we be on the run. Round and round we hustled, circling like people fleeing the English, bumping into one another, couples clinging together for dear life so their partners wouldn't collapse. Elimination was the name of the game, so there be no stopping, no lagging behind. May all the goats in Gorey chase you to hell.

  I was lucky. Joe be practically lifting me off me feet at one point when the stitch in me side felt like a meadow sythe cutting me flesh. But other contestants were not so fortunate, like one nice couple—a short man and his even shorter mate. They were knocked down and trampled over halfway in and t'was a sad sight indeed to see their fallen faces as they be led out of the building, to the boos from the audience and the cheers of the dancers.

  “I can't do this!” I moaned at one point, pinned to Joe's side like a dead rabbit dangling from his belt. “I miss Rose something terrible, I do!”

  But Joe's “Yes, you can, Daria. You can…” be keeping me going only by the sheer grace of God it did.

  For weeks, me cot loomed large. It was me resting and contemplation zone and nobody could take that away from me. Or so I thought. One night, expecting a trip backstage after our dance shift be ending, we were assembled instead to the far corner of the main dance hall, where, to our horror, our cots had been moved. We were told to relax in front of the crowds and when a woman complained, the Emcee be hissing, “We gotta keep the audience comin’ don't we?”

  I could hear spectators talking as I closed me eyes. “Look at that one,” “They look exhausted,” and “Doesn't she have big feet?” coupled with the faint smell of gin, guzzled from metal flasks. And after seeing one of the contestants talking to a nurse that morning, then handing her money, she now be holding onto her stomach, moaning, “Oh, my baby. My baby!”

  That same nurse be appearing from out of nowhere and in a loud voice, cried out, “This one's pregnant! Number fifty three's pregnant!” seconds before a rainfall of coins be tossed her way, and as number fifty three be scrambling to pick up every last bit, I could see the other competitors’ eyes grow tight with envy. Better her than me, I be thinking.

  The night crowds differed greatly from the day crowds they did. Mobsters, prostitutes, and pimps sucked on gold flasks like teats, while they be gambling openly on different competitors. The mobsters sometimes even threw dollar bills or even an occasional fiver onto the floor. A real treat that was, but when hot coins were tossed over just to see the contestants flinch with pain when they gathered them up, that's when Joe and I stayed clear, wondering about the human condition.

  Three months in, we became zombies, our worn out bodies joined together like a giant lump, and I bet all the tay in Ireland if Joe got an itch on his forehead, I'd be the one to scratch it, thinking it be mine, and we also be sensing when the other one was about to drop to the floor. Joe he be propping me up so I could sleep while he danced, I'd be asking him soft questions in his ear so he could stay awake, unlike me poor mam who probably hit that icy cold water off the Titanic like a thousand freshly sharpened knives, all alone, with no family to aid or comfort her. I don't know why, but she be shifting into me thoughts every day at the oddest moments. Ach, maybe it was so I wouldn't be thinking about Rose, who knows?

  “I be so innocent when I met Tony…” I started in one night, when the music be slow and romantic.

  “I k
now, I know.” Over me head, Joe's words sounded drugged.

  “I just wanted you to know that I never felt with Tony what I be feeling with you. But as me mam said, “Patience is a poultice for all wounds,” jumped out of me mouth before I could think.

  “I don't want to be patient! I want you. Now.” For all his fatigue, he still could hold me like a lover he could. Damn the Catholic Church and damn me mam for teaching me her special code of loyalty! I be thinking as I buried me head in his arms.

  “Hey, Sister! You and your ‘Beast’ are pretty popular, but so are we.”

  I looked up at Sheila from Couple number twenty one, The Sweetheart Couple. “So?”

  She knelt down next to me cot, whispering. “So, why don't we split the pot?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She was within five inches of me face, cupping her mouth and breathing hard. “I mean, if Bill and I get the prize, we share with you and the Beast, and if you and the Beast win, you share with us. Either way, a thousand each is nothing to sneeze at. Everyone wins, see?”

  “Ach, I should talk with…”

  “My Bill's talking to him right this minute,” she interrupted.

  That night on the floor, when the Emcee be announcing how the Sweetheart Couple and Beauty and The Beast were the only finalists because the other three couples had been disqualified, I swear I saw Sheila and Bill wink at us as they be passing by with Sheila mouthing the words, “Behind the band stand, behind the band stand,” our place to divvy up the prize. I could feel the crowd's excitement, the swell of “Go Sweethearts!” and “Go Beauty and the Beast!” enclosing us like a thick cloud cover on a misty Irish morn. It gave me hope it did. It'd all be over soon one way t'other.

  All of a sudden, me skin be feeling like it was two sizes too small. “I should've told Rose that I'd be back, it was only for the money. I should've made that clear to her. She's so young. What kind of mother am I? Me baby, me baby!” I moaned.

  I could feel Joe shifting his arms, holding me even tighter. “You're so used up you're getting Squirrely. Get a grip on yourself, sweetheart. It'll all be over real soon. We'll divide the cash and you can see Rose!” With me cheek resting on his chest, I opened one eye slowly to glance at the bleachers.