“Happy Fourth, to an upstanding fellow!”
Billy loved making a grand entrance. He went from person to person, chuckling about inside jokes and slapping all the guys on the back.
Lisa remained in the back of the kitchen. She chatted with Roger’s wife, who was pregnant. The idea of pregnancy was very exotic to Lisa. “Do you feel like the same person? Do you feel any different?”
“I’m a lot hungrier! And my back’s in terrible pain most of the time.” Roger’s wife groaned, getting up from her chair. She was pretty, with rosy cheeks—only a year older than Lisa.
The house wasn’t anything fancy; it didn’t look as if Roger’s wife shopped at Bergdorf Goodman. But it was nice and clean. It was a good starter home. Lisa turned on the kitchen sink to wash her hands; the faucet wasn’t leaky like the one at her parents’ apartment. Roger and his wife even had a little lawn out back.
“Hey, Mack!” Billy shouted across the living room.
Mack stood tall amid the fanfare, puffing out his chest. The other guys greeted him like a king as he carted in a barrel of firecrackers and fireworks.
“Boy oh boy, Mack, you did us well!”
The guys dug through the barrel as though sifting for gold.
“I got this one!”
“That’s mine!”
“Hey, buddy, get a load of this!”
Soon everyone switched to eating, serving themselves food from the kitchen table. Lisa conversed with the ladies as she ate, and she became the center of attention as they talked about her trips. Everyone was especially interested in her trip to Italy, and she did her best to describe the Pantheon between bites of coleslaw.
The women of the Starlite had been fascinated with her trips too.
One of the women at the kitchen table reminded Lisa of Jackie, who had never returned to the Starlite after her husband forced her to move to New Jersey. This woman had the same half smile and faltering mannerisms as Jackie, which made Lisa suspect that something was wrong.
Her suspicions were confirmed when the woman tapped her on the shoulder, beckoning Lisa to follow her to the corner of the kitchen.
The woman spoke in a hushed tone, shooting glances around the room to make sure nobody was listening. “I can’t believe you got to do all that traveling. My husband would never have let me travel in a plane or taxi with all those other men around, even before we were married.”
“He wouldn’t have let you?” Lisa gulped, searching the woman’s eyes. “What would he have done?”
“I can only imagine.” The woman gave a sad laugh. “You’re lucky, aren’t you? You got to go places.”
Lisa was silent, not knowing what to say. The woman gave her another half smile and then walked away, disappearing into the crowd of partygoers.
A chill passed through Lisa’s veins as she sat back down at the kitchen table, suddenly afraid to enter the other room, where a bunch of the men were gathering.
She didn’t know which one of these men was the girl’s husband—and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.
The sky was growing dark now, with low-hanging clouds and the beginnings of twilight. Soon the guys were rushing outside to let loose their fireworks. Lisa nibbled on a brownie and watched the action through the window along with some other women who remained at the kitchen table. Now that she wasn’t at Pan Am, she couldn’t travel anymore, but she did like being able to eat what she wanted. She no longer had to watch her weight so closely, and being a stewardess felt so removed from her present tense.
It felt good to sit for a moment, though she was getting a little headache from all the noise at this party, with the guys darting around like maniacs, setting off quick successions of firecrackers.
It was better to remain inside the house for the fireworks. The smoke would feel stifling in the humid air, furling upward like the black plume from the plane crash in the bay.
One guy set off a Roman candle, which made a great big plume in the air. There was a burst, and sparks came raining down. There was fire everywhere: in the skies, blasting out of lighters and sticks, falling down in little showers from the silver sparklers. A few guys brandished wooden torches, waving them in the air.
Their rowdy, wild energy turned to concentrated focus with fire in hand.
The men stood near the window, looking inside at the women, the long handles of their torches casting a dark shadow to the side.
“Would you look at that!”
The other halves of their faces were brightly lit, and though Lisa was some distance away, she could see miniature reflections of fire in their eyes. One of the women pointed, and all of the women stared. The guys’ lips rolled into laughter, and they spun around, using their torches to light the pyrotechnics. Lisa fixated on that fire, eyes in a deep trance as she watched the sky go aflame.
The house shook with the sounds, as if under siege.
One of the women shook her head and laughed. “Those boys sure are characters, aren’t they?”
Lisa turned away, unable to watch the smoke.
48
Elaine
Elaine had been staying in the boardinghouse for over two months. It was on the Upper East Side, a quiet neighborhood in Manhattan. She was familiar with the area, as she had lived there briefly before she moved in with Tommy.
The accommodations were clean, and the food was prepared and served by a hulking, silent woman in her sixties. It was a sparse but predictable place, a short fifteen-minute bus ride to work.
It was a little more of a trek to Brooklyn, so Elaine hadn’t been able to be with the Starlite ladies so often. They’d had a little party in Harriet’s apartment the other day, and she was trying to organize something else for them with Catherine, but it was slow going, because she lost much of her energy when she returned to the boardinghouse at night.
Talking to the ladies on the phone seemed to send her into exhaustion. One of them would inevitably bring up Madeline, and then all bets were off.
Now it was six o’clock in the evening. The landlady clanged the dinner bell in the hallway, as she did every night, up and down the halls with a strident chime.
Elaine ignored the bell and rubbed her stomach.
A reporter from the Chronicle had actually asked her to accompany him to dinner that night, but she had refused, as she had done on three previous occasions. He was nice looking and friendly enough, but the thought of making small talk over steaks seemed impossible.
A mirror image—
My own ideals—
She got her pencil to write a poem, but the yellow stick had turned to an itty-bitty nub. There wouldn’t be a poem tonight either.
Together with Catherine, Elaine had gotten several events up and running after Madeline’s memorial service. In addition to the recent party at Harriet’s apartment, they’d had a get-together at a restaurant and a lunch at someone’s house. But the conversation had been stilted, the dancing had been nonexistent, the readings had been dull, and none of the events had had themes to hold them together.
The fear in the group was low level, unspoken. There were no security guards, just women with eyes that didn’t ignore their surroundings.
The press had reported that Madeline had been hit by a wayward driver, but given that revelatory article in the society pages so close to her death, it was better to live far from those campaign signs plastered everywhere: RE-ELECT FRED ABBOTT.
Manhattan seemed a world away.
Elaine’s boardinghouse room was cramped, but it had a small chair. Enough space for a single visitor.
Her sister had come the previous night. Catherine was full of energy; she talked about moving quickly with her new beau. Catherine guessed that he might even propose to her soon enough. She was enraptured with him, though she insisted that she missed the social club, and she talked about taking steps to resurrect the feeling of the Starlite.
Elaine couldn’t work up any fervor to make plans. It seemed to her that the social club was lost.
“Whatever you say, sister dear. I suppose I’ll ring some of the ladies tomorrow.”
The Starlite was gone. Madeline was gone. But it was a mild distraction for Elaine to attend to obligations.
* * *
The next evening, after meeting with her sister, Elaine dialed down the list of ladies, starting with Harriet—she was usually good for an affirmative RSVP.
But Harriet didn’t answer her phone, and neither did the next five women on the list.
Without a leader, they would all drift their separate ways.
It was sweltering in the boardinghouse. Elaine tried to get something cool from the bathroom tap, but the water would only run warm. She drank the tepid, fizzy stuff anyway, then sat back down and fanned herself with the phone list.
The next name on the list was Lisa, whose mother always answered and claimed that Lisa was busy. Last week, Elaine had gone with Catherine to Lisa’s apartment to try to convince her to join them for the get-together they would be having. She hadn’t been surprised when Lisa made an excuse.
Now she was expecting that Lisa wouldn’t answer the phone. But tonight, Lisa actually picked up instead of her mother.
“Hello?”
“Hi, dear, it’s Elaine.”
“Oh, Elaine? Hi! That’s so funny, because I thought it might be you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I was just thinking about you and your sister—Catherine, right? You know, I’m really sorry I haven’t been in touch, and I was quick with both of you when you came outside my apartment last week, on the Fourth. I’ve just been so busy lately. I’m working lots of hours now, and I’m also engaged to be married.”
“Oh, well—congratulations! Who is the lucky gentleman?”
“His name is Billy. The one I was dating.” Lisa was speedy and breathless. “We’re getting married next year, so I’m trying to save up some money.”
“It’s wonderful to be working, making your own money and all that.”
“Yeah, well.” Lisa paused. “I would like to get together soon, though.”
“You’re in luck, dear, because I was calling to organize an alfresco get-together for the ladies tomorrow night.”
“I’m sorry, I have a date planned with Billy. Are you available tonight instead? Maybe we could have some girls’ time.”
“It would be a bit of a trek for you. I’m living in Manhattan now.”
“Whereabouts?”
“On Eighty-Fifty Street, in a nice ladies’ boardinghouse.”
“Do they allow visitors?”
“Women visitors, yes. But it’s rather late for you to make that trek, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s only eight. I could probably get there by nine if I leave now. I’ll only bother you for an hour or so. Just give me the cross street and I’ll make my way over.”
After Elaine give her the directions, they hung up.
Elaine rubbed her stomach; it was past dinner service. She couldn’t live solely on tap water, hot air, and loneliness. She sat on her little chair and waited for Lisa.
* * *
“Knock-knock!” Lisa shouted from behind the door.
Lisa had made a speedy trip to Manhattan—quicker than Elaine had anticipated. Elaine felt a bit startled to have a visitor that wasn’t her sister, even though she was the one who had invited her. She couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about her meager new living space. “It’s a plain old room. Come right in, dear.” It was certainly a downgrade from the grand old brownstone. “I have tea, if you want. I have this little electric kettle that plugs into the wall, quite the invention.”
“I don’t know how you can drink tea in the middle of July!”
“Routine, I guess.” Elaine poured the steaming liquid into her cup as she sat on her bed, then she watched Lisa shift around on the stiff little chair in the corner of the room.
They were silent for a moment as Elaine took a sip of tea and exhaled. “I’ve been visiting a psychoanalyst.”
“You mean a shrink?” Lisa pulled back a little in her chair.
“I suppose that’s the nickname, isn’t it? It all seems a bunch of blather anyway. He asks me to talk about these things that I don’t want to talk about.”
“I guess it’s not helping, then?”
“I suppose it’s not doing much. Maybe it’s all poppycock. But I’ve paid for the next few visits already; he’s lured me in for more tries.”
“I understand.” Lisa squirmed and repositioned her legs. “I’m sorry. I really don’t want to bother you. I guess there’s a curfew here, so I probably should leave soon.”
“No, no, dear! I really appreciate the company. Sit, sit, please.”
“Okay.” Lisa’s cheeks were flushed. They were both silent as they fanned themselves in the stuffy air. “Listen, I have a confession to make, Elaine.”
Elaine stood, adjusting the lace doily on her dresser. It was the room’s only decoration. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
She imagined that Lisa might admit that she didn’t want to visit her at the boardinghouse anymore—it was just too cramped.
“My fiancé—remember I told you his name is Billy? Well, Billy is the son of Fred Abbott’s campaign manager.” Lisa gulped. “I don’t like keeping secrets, and I just had to tell you.”
The tea almost dribbled from Elaine’s mouth as she felt a punch to the gut from hearing Fred Abbott’s name, but she kept her voice even. “Well. That’s an unfortunate coincidence, isn’t it, darling?”
Lisa shuddered. “I’ve just felt so guilty—you know? And then, you know, the night that Madeline … the night it happened with Madeline? I was actually on my way to see her. Can you imagine, Elaine? I was right there. If I had been there a little earlier, maybe she wouldn’t have been taking a walk. Maybe she would still be alive today.”
Lisa’s face was bright pink with heat and exertion. Suddenly she leaned over Elaine’s wooden table, her head in her hands, and sobbed.
“There, there.”
Elaine patted her back, and Lisa cried even more. She was bent over at the waist, unable to speak.
It must have felt quite awkward for the girl this whole time—to be with the son of Fred Abbott’s campaign manager. Yet it wasn’t as though Lisa’s beau was Fred Abbott himself.
Elaine rested a hand on Lisa’s back as she cried, doubled over on the wooden chair. Something small and metallic clinked under the table.
Elaine reached under and picked up a sizable diamond ring.
“Yours, I presume?”
Lisa nodded, her face still down on the table. Elaine slid the ring to her, and Lisa felt around blindly and put it back in her dress pocket.
“I couldn’t wear it here.”
“I understand,” Elaine said softly. She stood upright, hands at her sides, and then she brought them down to stroke Lisa’s hair, which was damp near her face. “You know, dear, you have nothing to be guilty about. For starters, it’s not like you’re engaged to Fred Abbott himself. Secondly, there was no way you could have known that Madeline would run out onto the street that night. Not unless you’re a clairvoyant and you haven’t been letting on.”
Lisa picked her face up off the table and giggled a little in spite of herself. “Not that I know of.”
“But I understand what it’s like to blame yourself. My … well … shrink, if we’re going to use that word … well, he might very well have been trying to question me to see if that’s what I’ve been doing with Tommy’s passing.”
“But that’s not your fault, right? Tommy just drank too much, right?”
“I suppose so.” They were both silent. “What’s your Billy like? He’s a good man,
I’m sure.”
Lisa blushed. “He’s funny and charming. You’ll have to meet him someday.”
“Right. Tell me, does he go out a lot?” Elaine quickly flew her hand to her mouth, reddening.
“Well, yes—he has this big group of friends from the work site, you know.”
Elaine uncovered her mouth and exhaled. “That’s good; he has a job, then. What are his friends like?”
“I get along with most of them all right. A few are a little rough around the edges, but after all, I’m not a boy.” Lisa cleared her throat and gestured toward the top of Elaine’s dresser. “That’s a nice radio you have there.”
“Oh, yeah, that was Tommy’s. His aunt told me I could take anything I wanted. Tommy used to love that radio.”
“How ’bout we listen for a little bit?”
“Absolutely! But we have to keep it on low. Boardinghouse rules.”
An Elvis song played from the radio. It was something slow, warbling, and beautiful. It was too poignant; Elaine switched the station. On came Chubby Checker with his hopping, catchy beat. Lisa got up and twirled her skirt, but Elaine stayed put on the bed, legs crossed. Lisa grabbed her by the hand and pulled her up to dance, with quick little steps, in the still, humid air of the night.
“Did you ever try the calypso?” Lisa asked. “It’s like this: one, two … shuffle, then a slight twirl.” She demonstrated. “It used to be on American Bandstand all the time!”
“I don’t know, dear. I think it’s another American phenomenon I let fall by the wayside.” Elaine allowed herself to laugh, which felt good—and she let herself keep going.
It was almost time for curfew, but the two of them laughed hysterically, only intermittently muting themselves as they twirled around and around.
“You know what’s so crazy?” Lisa asked breathlessly.
“What’d you say?” Elaine shot glances at the door. The landlady hadn’t knocked yet.
“That night with Madeline, you know, like I said—well—I was driving there to see her and all. And Billy was going out with a few friends that night. Anyway, I was on the way to see Madeline, but there was all this traffic, so I couldn’t get through, and then I spotted Billy’s car—he must have been in the neighborhood, and I tried following him for fun, but he moved too quick and I lost him. I never told him I saw him. I don’t want him to think that I follow him around like a crazy woman!”
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