by Ann Hood
Katherine presses her finger into a cookie. The kitchen smells great, like cinnamon and raisins and brown sugar. Lucy will be able to smell these cookies before she even walks in the door.
When the phone rings, Katherine almost doesn’t answer it, thinking it is Andy again. But it’s impossible for her to let a telephone ring and ring.
She’s surprised to hear Lucy’s voice on the other end.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” Lucy says in that forced polite voice she uses to speak to Katherine. “I’m with Jasper at his place.”
Katherine swallows hard. She glances over at the cookies cooling on the counter. “Oh,” she says. She doesn’t even try to hide her disappointment.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Lucy says.
Katherine says, “Andy called again.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s working in a leprosy clinic. Can you believe it?” Katherine picks up a cookie as she talks, and begins to break it into small pieces.
“What did he do? Move to Hawaii or something?” Lucy says.
Katherine hears music in the background. “Hawaii?” she says, trying to think of ways to keep Lucy on the phone.
“Yeah,” Lucy says. “There’s a leper colony on Molokai.”
The cookie is a puddle of crumbs now. “Right,” Katherine says. “I knew that. No, he’s working at one in Boston. There’s leprosy everywhere.”
“Well,” Lucy says, “watch who you go out with, I guess.”
Katherine laughs.
“See you tomorrow,” Lucy is saying.
“Wait!” Katherine says quickly. But Lucy has hung up.
Katherine holds the receiver in her hand until it starts beeping loudly. Then she wraps the cookies in tinfoil and ties a bright yellow ribbon around them. She’ll go to Julia’s, she decides. She’ll leave the cookies on her doorstep if she’s not home. Then, as if it’s an appointment, Katherine writes it in her datebook, beside a Roz Chast cartoon: 7:00—Julia!
Julia does not seem pleased to find Katherine at her door.
“Cookies,” Katherine tells her as an explanation, but Julia keeps her black skinny eyebrows bunched up in a frown. They are plucked slightly unevenly. They look like lopsided commas on her forehead.
It took Katherine a while to realize that the contrast in Julia’s dark brows and platinum hair is an intentional one, and not meant to look at all natural. It reminds Katherine of country club women from her childhood, with their lacquered and dyed bouffants and bubble cuts, their V-shaped eyebrows and dark red or orange lips.
Julia still has not opened the door enough for Katherine to enter, and for a moment she thinks that perhaps Julia is hiding a man in there. But as quickly as the thought enters her mind, Katherine dismisses it. Julia is always talking about her lack of a love life, her crush on a man from her writing class. Or is it her acting class? Julia takes too many classes and switches jobs too many times for Katherine to keep track.
“Someone told me this is Mrs. Field’s recipe,” Katherine says, shrugging. “I can hardly believe that, though.”
Julia steps away from the door and Katherine follows her inside. She is shocked by how beautiful the place is—an art deco-lover’s dream filled with Erté-like sculptures, black and aqua furniture.
“None of it’s mine,” Julia says, flicking on lights as she moves toward the couch.
Katherine is almost afraid to put the cookies down on anything.
“I’ve never owned a thing in my life,” Julia tells her. “Never had a lease. I’m like a professional apartment sitter. This guy’s in Europe for three months.”
“You mean they pay you to live here?” Katherine says.
Julia shakes her head. “I just live rent-free, that’s all.”
The black coffee table is littered with small plastic fruits, tubes of glue, and what look like fishhooks. Gingerly, Katherine sets the cookies down. Julia looks out of place in this plush room, sitting on the sofa in her green stretch capri pants and worn black sweater. Each of her toenails is painted a different color. When Katherine sees that, she feels inexplicably sad.
She says in an overly friendly voice, “I thought for a minute you were hiding a secret lover in here.”
Julia seems to study her carefully. “No,” she says. “My Latin lover just left.”
Katherine smiles. She wonders why she wants this woman to like her so much. She doesn’t come up with an answer, she just knows that she does.
“Lucy’s with Jasper,” she says finally.
“I know,” Julia says. “She called me a little while ago.”
Katherine says, “She did?” She shifts uncomfortably.
Julia nods. “She always calls me from the airport. This terrorist stuff makes me feel all weird. You know? So she calls to tell me she’s back, safe and sound.”
She has unwrapped the cookies and is examining one closely.
“Uh … there’s just the usual cookie stuff in there,” Katherine tells her.
Julia smiles and nods, then puts the cookie down.
They sit quietly on the sofa. Katherine is surprised at how thin Julia is. She always wears such baggy clothing, Katherine assumed she was overweight. But she is average, not unlike Katherine herself.
“No date tonight?” Julia asks her.
Katherine shakes her head. “Remember Joe?”
“The wine store guy?”
“Yes. I called him and he gave me this real runaround. Said he had out-of-town company this weekend.”
“Maybe he does,” Julia says.
“Maybe,” Katherine says. But she knows that he did not want to see her again. It was one of the things she hoped to talk to Lucy about. Lucy had told her not to call him and she’d been right. Katherine should have just waited to see what happened naturally. She says, “Lucy is good with love advice.”
Julia shrugs. “I guess so.”
“I mean,” Katherine says, “how could she not be? She and Jasper are so perfect together.”
Julia arches her crooked eyebrows. “Mmmmm.”
“Aren’t they?” Katherine asks.
Julia smiles. “Isn’t Jasper gorgeous?”
Katherine hesitates, then agrees. “A real hunk,” she says. She points to the things on the coffee table. “Is this for a class?”
Julia laughs. “I make jewelry,” she says. “Earrings. Then I take them over to Astor Place and sell them on the street. It’s like a hobby.”
“Oh,” Katherine says. She tries to sound polite, but she can’t imagine it—standing beside all those street people selling used magazines and old shoes.
“Here,” Julia says, and hands her a completed earring.
It’s a bunch of miniature plastic fruit, bananas and pineapples and oranges dangling from a hook.
“What I do,” Julia is saying, “is sell them singly. A lot of people want just one.”
“Sure,” Katherine says.
Julia pulls away from her and shakes her head. “You should do something about your look, Katherine. Those little stud earrings.” She shakes her head again. “It’s all too young. Too—”
“I like a more classic look,” Katherine says. She can’t keep the chill out of her voice.
“Suit yourself,” Julia says. “But you could look really great. If you got rid of the ribbons and stuff.” She stands abruptly. “Well,” she says, “thanks for the cookies.”
“Oh.” Katherine stands too. “I … I thought maybe you’d want to go to a movie or something. Since Lucy’s the only one lucky enough to have a real date tonight.”
But Julia is already urging her toward the door. “My roots are showing and I want to work on those earrings and I—”
“That’s all right,” Katherine says. She is surprised at how well she can mask the hurt she feels. She knows that Julia just doesn’t want to spend an evening with her, “I have a ton of stuff to do myself.”
She walks down the hallway toward the elevator. When it comes, a Chinese-food de
livery man gets out. He is strikingly handsome, with a punk haircut and a diamond earring.
“Smells good,” Katherine says, and points to his bag of food. She is surprised to see the silver foil top of a champagne bottle poking from the bag.
He smiles at her and walks down the hall. Suddenly, she has a strange thought: He is going to see Julia.
Feeling like a spy, or maybe Agent 99 from Get Smart, Katherine stands behind a large potted fern and watches him. He goes right to Julia’s door, and when she opens it, Katherine sees the old black sweater is off, and she is wearing a lacy bustier that shows off her full breasts.
“Hi, On,” Julia says with more warmth and familiarity than Katherine has ever used on a delivery boy.
She waits until On and Julia are both inside before she leaves. Out on the street, Katherine stands, unsure of which way to go, or what to do. She looks down and sees that she still has Julia’s earring in her hand. Slowly, she removes her plain gold one, and places the hanging bunch of fruit in her earlobe. Then she tosses her head back and forth to feel it sway and brush against her neck. But it feels stupid, and Katherine takes the earring off, and slips it into her pocket.
Happy ribbons
“SHE LOOKS LIKE WHOOPI Goldberg,” Katherine tells Lucy. She holds up her hand like a traffic cop. “Not that I know anything about illustrations,” she says.
Lucy looks down at her latest attempt at My Dolly. It does look like Whoopi Goldberg. But she can’t admit that to Katherine because then Katherine will pat her hand sympathetically and assure her that things will turn out just fine. Lucy half expects her to break into song sometimes, the way people do in old musicals. She can see it now, Katherine dancing up the walls, her voice full of gusto and enthusiasm, singing about a brighter day.
It has been exactly one month since she appeared on Lucy’s doorstep. One month since she called off her wedding to Andy and proclaimed herself a new woman. But to Lucy, Katherine is not a new person at all. She’s still the same as she was back in college when they were roommates, during the years that Lucy tries very hard to forget. Now, every morning when she wakes up, Lucy is reminded of them. Katherine puts on lipstick and combs her hair as soon as she wakes up. She reminds Lucy of someone on a half-hour sitcom.
To make it all worse, Katherine cooks Lucy breakfast. She goes out early and brings home the newspaper. She writes Lucy little notes all the time. At least she doesn’t sign them with a happy face, the way she did in college. But it’s still awful having her here. Lucy has found herself searching the Voice and the Times real estate ads, hoping to find Katherine an apartment so she can get out already. And Lucy can return to her own life.
“I hate to ask you this,” Katherine says now. “I mean, I know you’re busy but I have just one little question.”
Lucy keeps staring at her drawing. “What is it?” she says.
“Where’s Borough Hall?” Katherine says. She thrusts a subway map in front of Lucy. “Can I take the Number Six train?”
Lucy looks at her finally. Katherine is dressed in a lightweight gray suit. The skirt is too long. And she has on a little bow tie, all pink and gray polka dots. Lucy frowns. “Where are you going?”
Katherine has on her sunniest face. She is wearing lip gloss and small pearl stud earrings. Katherine still dresses exactly the way she did in college. Chinos and polo shirts, a little Pappagallo bag, long skirts and loafers. She is an eighteen-year-old in a thirty-year-old’s body.
“A job interview,” she says. “I’m going to the Board of Ed to apply for a teaching position for the fall. I have to fill out forms and take a test.”
To Lucy, fall is very far away. It means that, until then, if Katherine doesn’t move out, she will be lurking about, all smiles and optimism.
Lucy says, “Change to the express at Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Is that right across the platform?” Katherine asks. She tries to sound confident and unafraid, but Lucy knows the subways terrify her. The city terrifies her, but she insists on staying. Even when Andy calls her and tells her she is forgiven, she remains.
Lucy softens a little. “Yes,” she tells her. “Express trains are always right across the platform.”
Katherine shakes her head. “Not at the Bloomingdale’s stop,” she says.
“Almost always, then.”
“And up on Eighty-sixth Street the express trains are downstairs,” Katherine says.
Lucy grits her teeth. “All right. I said almost always.”
“All right,” Katherine says, her voice all cheery again.
It is this cheerfulness, this eternally sunny disposition, that is driving Lucy crazy most of all. There is something false in it, something almost sinister. It was that way in college too, all the girls smiling and cheerful on the surface, and different underneath. Lucy is ashamed that she acted that way too, pretending to be excited when someone got pinned, or bought a new car, or made the synchronized dance team, when really she thought it was all so silly.
“Off I go,” Katherine is saying. She hesitates. “Lucy?” she says. “Wish me luck?”
That is another maddening thing about her. When Lucy went to a meeting with the My Dolly editor and writer, Katherine made her a big sign. “Good Luck” it said in chubby hot pink letters. And pinned to the sign was a pair of small earrings, shaped like butterflies. When Lucy spent a few days with Jasper at the beach, she came home and found a “Welcome Home” sign strung across the bedroom doorway.
“Good luck,” Lucy mutters.
Lucy has a picture that she pulls out and looks at from time to time. In it, she is standing, arms linked, with Katherine and their two other college roommates, Melissa and Andrea. It was taken the summer they all worked as cocktail waitresses, and they are wearing their uniforms—bright yellow ones with kelly green aprons. They all have the same haircuts—wedges like Dorothy Hamill wore. When Lucy looks at this picture, she cannot tell which of the girls is her, unless she studies it very closely. That’s why she keeps it. To remind herself that even if she is lonely, or sad, or brokenhearted, she cannot change just to have friends.
That’s what she did back then. College had frightened her. She used to sit alone at night and look out the window at the blackness, listening to the sounds of people having fun. Girls giggling, boys singing, the sounds of people running and shouting. And she would feel like she was one of those satellites, sent into space to orbit for years and years, alone, never really touching down anywhere, just watching things pass by.
Her first roommate was a transfer student named Janet. She had fifty-two pairs of shoes that she kept boxed and labeled. She had a boyfriend in Pennsylvania who called her every night. She majored in French, and sat on her bed talking to herself in that language for hours. “Est-elle triste aujourd’hui, Mademoiselle?” she said. Then she would answer herself, “Oui, je le crois.”
The next semester Janet went back to Pennsylvania and Lucy had a new roommate, a girl named Pamela who sold drugs from their room and had loud sex with different boys while Lucy tried to sleep. By then Lucy had met Katherine, in an English Literature Survey class. Katherine had pledged a sorority, and had to wear something in its colors, double green and pink, every day. She had to pin double green and pink ribbons to her sweater. They were called Happy Ribbons. To Lucy, Katherine did seem happy, as if the ribbons were magical. She was always smiling, and she told Lucy funny stories about the other sorority sisters and the socials they had with fraternities. “You should pledge,” Katherine told her every day. Then she’d wave good-bye to Lucy and run off to meet a group of girls, all dressed in double green and pink, those ribbons pinned to their sweaters, all smiling and happy to see her.
Back in her dorm room, Lucy would put her pillow over her head to muffle Pamela’s moans, and when she’d finally fall asleep, she would dream of a world filled with smiling faces, of happy girls dressed in double green and pink. And in her dreams, she was one of them.
Lucy and Jasper glissade naked across
her living room floor. Katherine is out for the evening, on a date with a man she met in the express checkout line in the supermarket. Katherine is a relentless dater. It is as if she is making up for lost time, for all the boys who smiled at her in Chem 101 or sat beside her at basketball games, all the ones she ignored because of Andy. Now, anyone in a good suit, anyone who seems disease-free and well-read, anyone who prefers Broadway musicals to prime-time television and Mozart to the Grateful Dead gets a chance to take her to dinner. Men who sit next to her on the subway. Men who swim laps beside her at the pool. Men buying milk at the Grand Union. She has only refused the ones who wore their hair in ponytails, or had unfocused gazes, or wore unpressed clothes. About everyone else she says, “You never know. He may be the One.”
“No one is safe from her,” Lucy tells Jasper.
He stops dancing and shakes his head. “She has got to find her own place,” he says. “I never get to see you.”
Lucy nods, but really the only good thing about having Katherine here is that she doesn’t have to deal with what is happening between her and Jasper. Before Katherine arrived, that was all Lucy could concentrate on. How Jasper had stopped trying to get a job dancing. How he used to seem so perfect, how in love they used to be. How she had started to feel like she didn’t love him, or he had changed somehow, or she had become different. With Katherine here, those things only surface sometimes.
“She got a job,” Lucy tells Jasper.
“Teaching?”
“Yes.”
“Now?” he asks.
Lucy sighs. “No. In September. Now she’s volunteering in a soup kitchen.” Lucy adds, “She’s so damn good.”
Jasper raises his arms and pirouettes, fast, spinning and spinning until Lucy starts to feel dizzy just watching him. She looks away, sees his reflection in the window. He is doing a whole choreographed dance, steps she cannot identify. She thinks, he’s a good dancer. He will make it somehow.