“It’s going to be beautiful, Claire. I can’t wait to see it finished,” Ava said, admiringly.
“Personally, I think you should paint on canvas, so you can take it with you when we leave here.” They both turned to see Arianna in the doorway. She had dressed to the nines in a blood red, silk, straight dress, black shoulder fur and matching cloche hat with jeweled beadwork adorning one side. She did not even attempt to dress plainly for the sake of blending in. Claire shrugged and looked back at the wall.
“I’ll enjoy it while we’re here, and hopefully it’ll be enjoyed by the next tenants. Right now, I need it to be larger than life,” she said with a sigh and turned to her friends. “So, do you want the grand tour?” she asked sarcastically and took them through the three tiny rooms. It was similar to the others’ apartments, only the floor plan reversed.
“I was pretty horrified when I first walked in here. Aryl offered for me to paint every wall in the apartment, and I just might. It might help cheer the place up a bit.” There was a similar, ragged couch covered by a sheet, a wooden chair in the corner by a small, slightly lopsided bookshelf, and a small, wooden table with two chairs near the entrance to the kitchen.
“Well, I’m not spending a dime on this dump. We’re not going to be here that long,” Arianna said with a snort. “Caleb is already working on some ideas. I’m sure they’ll have us out of here by New Year’s,” she said confidently.
“That would be nice,” Ava said quietly. Something told her that Arianna was floating on false hopes, but she wasn’t about to ruin what bit of optimism she was managing to cling to.
“Why don’t we get out of here for a couple hours? I have a list of things I need to pick up, and maybe we can grab a late lunch out,” Arianna suggested.
“Yes. That’s sounds wonderful,” Ava said and smiled.
On the way out, they passed the beady-eyed woman talking incessantly to a young woman who was juggling a bag of groceries in one arm and a baby on the other hip while a toddler clung to her dress. She was trying to unlock her door without spilling the bag or the baby. The beady-eyed one offered the struggling woman no help but continued to rattle on about curing a baby’s colic and her own intestinal ailments. The red-haired woman smiled politely as the three passed, and Ava was debating whether to stop and help her when the beady-eyed woman noticed them and turned. Ava put her head down and walked faster, practically running down the next set of stairs. Once on the street, Arianna started laughing.
“Please say that wasn’t one of your neighbors?”
“She is,” she said grimly. “I haven’t met the other one yet, the one with the baby.”
Arianna changed the subject abruptly. “Let’s catch the trolley. We’ll head uptown to have lunch and do our shopping there.”
∞∞∞
The lunch whistle blew much to Jonathan’s relief, who not only was starving but also positive his back was going to snap in half if he lifted one more sack of flour. Aryl rested on the bumper of the truck and looked at his hands. There were already several blisters on the palms of his hands, and his fingers ached. He flexed them, trying to relieve some of the stiffness and regain some feeling. Caleb joined them, and they all headed out of the yard to find lunch. They chose a deli close by and ordered sandwiches. They ate by the window and watched the chaotic scene of the passersby rushing in every direction.
“When’s quitting time again?” Jonathan asked, while stretching his neck from side to side.
“Six,” Aryl said flatly. Even his normally good mood was muted today.
They finished lunch in silence and headed back to the yard. Jonathan had a hard time keeping up a decent pace. He was already exhausted from the morning’s work and adding a full stomach to that caused him to feel sluggish and mentally foggy as well.
∞∞∞
Arianna perked up noticeably once back on familiar streets surrounded by fashionable storefronts and restaurants. The appetizing aromas of gourmet creations floated in the air, and the relaxed pace of immaculately dressed people going about their daily errands delighted her. She led the trio into “La Petite Bouchée”. She animatedly greeted the waiter in French, whom she obviously knew well. They chatted like old friends, inquired about each others' spouses, and flattered each other with compliments. Finally, she ordered crepes and coffee for them all. The waiter went to prepare their order, and Arianna sat down, smiling as she glanced around. In this place, it was easy to pretend all was right with the world; those not destroyed by the crash had continued with their lives. “I think we should have lunch here once a week,” she suggested. Ava and Claire looked hesitant. “Oh, come on, we don’t have to spend a lot of money. We’ll just get coffee, but it’s so nice to be here rather than there. We can almost pretend that nothing ever happened,” she said quietly. Claire patted her hand.
“Once a week it is then, even just for coffee. Every Friday.”
“I thought of something for us to do to occupy ourselves at least for tomorrow afternoon. We can write to friends and family and let them know, delicately, our change of address. I’m going to stop by the stationer today to pick up some letter paper. Why don’t you both come over, and we’ll write letters together?” Arianna finished just as the waiter delivered their coffee.
“That’s a good idea. We haven’t heard from Jonathan’s parents in several weeks, so perhaps a letter from them would cheer him up a little,” Ava said.
“How is he?” Claire asked, concerned.
Before Ava could reply, Arianna changed the subject. She had no interest in glum conversation. She was only interested in pretending that nothing had ever happened, and she played the part well.
“Oh, look! There’s Sarah!” She half-stood, waving to get her friend’s attention. “I wish she had her baby with her. Oh, I’ve wanted to see it so badly. Her baby shower was the end all, wasn’t it? Her organizer did a fantastic job . . . .” Her voice trailed off as Sarah caught sight of her and turned away as if she hadn't seen Arianna.
Ava knew exactly what was happening. She had seen through Sarah’s shallow personality from the first time they met. She tried to distract Arianna.
“What style of stationery did you have in mind, Arianna?” she asked, suddenly appearing to be terribly interested in writing paper. Arianna ignored her and continued to try to get Sarah’s attention. When it became obvious to Arianna that Sarah was ignoring her purposefully, she shouted Sarah’s name so loud that it was impossible to ignore her. Everyone in the café turned to look, and Sarah, embarrassed, hurried over to Arianna.
“Sarah, did you not see me wave at you?” Arianna demanded, putting a hand on her hip.
“Yes, I did. I just thought it best if I . . . well,” Sarah stammered and nervously looked around her, ashamed even to be speaking to Arianna.
“If you what? Ignored me? That’s hardly polite, Sarah.”
“Well, Arianna, things have changed, you know. I’ve heard, well, we’ve all heard about what happened. And we feel terrible for you, me and the other wives, but things just aren’t the same now and we thought it best to leave some things in the past, you know? Thought it might make it easier for you. I’m sure you understand.” Sarah tried to wrap her cruel words with a smile.
“No, Sarah, I’m afraid I don’t understand. We have been friends for going on five years. Are you pretending like you don’t know me because I no longer have money?” she asked incredulously.
“It’s not only that,” Sarah snapped impatiently. “I’ve heard where you’ve had to move to . . . surrounded by illegitimate and vile society, streetwalkers and the like. Milton heard through a friend that your husband is doing manual labor now.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, “I mean, honestly, Arianna, what would we possibly have to talk about any longer?”
Arianna’s face was a mixed expression of hurt and disbelief as she slowly sat down. Ava and Claire, while taken aback at how quickly details of their situation had spread, glared at Sarah with hateful looks that mad
e her uncomfortable, and she rushed away. Arianna stared down in disbelief for a moment and then looked up from the table slowly, her eyes pinned on Sarah. She stood with as much grace as she could muster as fury welled up inside her.
“Oh, no,” Claire said quietly, covering her face with one hand. Ava looked at Claire desperately, but they both knew that it was too late to stop whatever blitz Sarah had brought on and rightfully had coming to her. Arianna smiled a large smile until Sarah was almost, but not quite, to the door.
“Oh, Sarah, dear!” Arianna called loudly. Sarah stopped abruptly but didn’t turn around. “You’re quite wrong about something. We would have much to talk about over lunch, you and I. Take Milton, for instance. I could tell you all about our affair toward the end of your pregnancy when you were, well,” she shrugged with an evil smile, “not up for the deed.”
Ava choked on her coffee, spewing it over the lace linen and her dress. Claire’s head snapped up so fast, it was painful.
“But you’ll be relieved to know that it was indeed a very brief affair. After all, he is quite the clumsy lover and very poorly equipped.” She narrowed her eyes. “And we could also talk about the streetwalkers I now live in close proximity to. Didn't a streetwalker give Milt that terrible rash while you were recuperating from childbirth recently? That’s the word around the gentlemen’s club, anyway. I really would see to it that it heals before you think about lying with him again.”
Sarah spun around in mute horror, huffed and turned on her heels to stomp out. Snickers and whispers rose up from all parts of the café. Arianna sat down and took a dainty sip of her coffee. Claire’s face quivered, not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or run away.
“Dear Lord, Arianna!” Ava cried out and leaned over the table toward her. “Now this whole café thinks you’ve had an affair with Milton!” she whispered loudly.
“I don’t care what these people think of me. Besides, I couldn’t exactly insinuate that her husband was an inept lover with a minuscule appendage simply by rumor. It has much more credibility coming from the horse’s mouth,” she said and grinned maliciously.
Claire sat, shaking her head. “Life with you is never boring, Arianna. Let’s get going before we’re thrown out.” Claire put her share of the bill on the table and stood up.
“It wouldn’t be the first place I've been thrown out of,” Arianna said quietly. They didn’t ask any questions, but Ava and Claire had no doubt that it was completely true.
Next, they went to the stationer where Arianna picked out beautiful, heavy-weight, handmade paper, which had the slightest pink tinge to it and rose petals of a darker pink pressed along the bottom edge. Of course, she had to buy specially made envelopes as well and enjoyed acting as if it were just another shopping day. As they were leaving, something near the display window caught her eye. She walked over to see a hardbound notebook with a gold cover and a silver fleur de lis engraved on the front, and she left with it tucked under her arm.
∞∞∞
Ava was in the kitchen putting the final touches on dinner when Jonathan walked in carrying a package with him. He had stopped on the way home and bought proper work pants, boots, a second work shirt, and a pair of gloves. He limped to the couch and sat down hard, letting the package drop to the floor. Ava turned to see him and her smile faded. She had been remembering the events of the afternoon, particularly the scene in the café, which had been horribly embarrassing at the time, yet now seemed absolutely entertaining. Jonathan rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.
“That was the worst day of my life,” he moaned. Ava sat down beside him and noticed his dress slacks riddled with small tears and dirt, his shoes now scuffed beyond any hope of repair and his shirt dingy with sweat stains around the neck and underarms.
“Oh, Jonathan.” She took his hand; he winced and pulled it back slightly. She turned his hand over and gasped when she saw open, bleeding blisters covering the palms and fingertips.
“Jonathan, what happened?” she asked with frightened concern.
“Work. Hard work,” he said with eyes still closed. He was so tired that he wondered if he could summon the energy to get to the lumpy bed that he would be grateful to fall into.
“But, Jonathan–”
“I bought gloves on the way home. I’ll wear them tomorrow,” he said.
“But tomorrow’s Saturday,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said, hardly moving his mouth. Ava went to the kitchen and wrung out several cloths in hot water. He winced when she wrapped them around his hands. Eventually the sharp stinging on the open sores eased as the warmth soothed his aching joints. He rolled his head toward her and watched her as she worked.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. She turned away quickly, so he wouldn’t see her tears and busied herself in the kitchen. He lacked the energy to show it, but he was truly happy to be near her again. He'd never consider the shabby walls that surrounded him home. The only place he considered home was near Ava.
∞∞∞
“Arianna,” Caleb called as he walked in the door. It was dark and quiet, and he was just about to turn to look for her at Ava’s or Claire’s when he heard a noise in the bedroom. He pushed open the door and saw Arianna sitting in the dark on the floor against the wall, head on her knees, arms covering her head.
“Arianna. What happened?” he asked with alarm, and quickly sat down on the scuffed, hardwood floor in front of her. She lifted her head to look at him. She was sniffling, and he could see she was at the end of a hard cry.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said with a whimper.
“No, Arianna, what happened?” She took an uneven breath and told him about Sarah and the scene in the café, how embarrassed she was, how horrible she was made to feel for suddenly being poor. She detailed her outburst at the end that left Sarah speechless. Caleb had trouble suppressing a smile.
“You actually said that?” referring to her comments about Milt, the rash and the streetwalker. The fact that she had publicly announced stepping out on Caleb flew right past him as many of her words and actions did. She nodded and blew her nose with a handkerchief, which Caleb handed to her. He let out a little laugh. “Well, sounds to me like she had it coming.” Then he said more seriously, “That was awful of her to act that way toward you. I knew she was on the petty side, but still–”
“It’s not just that.”
“There’s more?” he asked, his eyes widening.
“Everyone’s talking, Caleb. They’re all talking about me, about us, where we have to live and about where you have to work. I can’t believe how fast bad news gets around.” He sighed with a hint of frustration.
“Why do you care, Ahna? They aren’t real friends. Let them talk.”
“Me, Claire and Ava were planning to go back to the café once a week, and now we can’t do that. I’m sure I’ll run into people we know, and they’ll be nasty and make me feel horrible.” She dropped her head on her knees again. Caleb tried to be understanding, but he was tired and hungry. He was at a loss for what more to say. Shallow people would be nasty. They’d talk and say hurtful things, but this was the least of his worries. He simply decided to change the subject.
“Why don’t I run down and get us something to eat? You clean up, and I’ll be right back.” He kissed the top of her head as his stiff legs lifted him off the floor.
∞∞∞
Aryl had been quieter than usual on the walk home. The others had noticed, but assumed he was simply as exhausted as they were, too exhausted to complain. But he was already rolling around a few different ideas. Always perceptive when it came to opportunities no one else noticed, he was even more desperate to find something to cultivate now as every muscle and bone in his body ached.
Misery motivated him more than money ever had. He’d off-loaded bulk flour and rice all day. Most of it directed to repackaging and redistribution plants, but some bulk orders went to large bakeries and restaurants. There had to
be a way to get in the middle of that and turn a profit. Find the supplier overseas and undercut the competition on this side.
He was still lost in these thoughts while he and Claire ate dinner. She took his silence as not wanting to talk about his day, which by the looks of him, had to have been a hard one. She decided to tell him about hers. When she started to explain the scene at the café, he fully pulled away from his thoughts and was laughing heartily by the end of the story. Aryl shook his head, smiling.
“How Caleb puts up with that girl, I’ll never know.” He turned to the wall over the fireplace. “I see you’ve started the mural,” he said, looking over the rough pencil outlines above the mantel.
“I picked up more black paint, so I could start working on the storm clouds.”
His smile faded slightly. “Do you have yellow?”
“I think so, why?”
“For the light. It needs to have a very bright light,” he said quietly. “One that can shine through to other side of the storm.”
∞∞∞
Ava sat down next to Jonathan on the couch, balancing two plates. He lifted his head to see a tiny piece of steak, a lobster tail, a baked potato with butter, and smiled.
“I wasn’t really serious,” he said as he removed the cloths from his hands and reached for the plate. “But it smells wonderful.” Just then, they heard a few thuds coming from the far wall of the apartment. Jonathan raised an eyebrow.
“There are people living over there?”
“I saw her today. Poor thing was cornered by that woman,” she said, squinting her eyes to imitate the beady eyes of the overbearing neighbor. “She was trying to manage her babies and groceries and trying to get in her door.”
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