“They have children?” He shuddered at the thought of having to raise a child here.
“Two that I saw. A little girl of maybe two or three years old and a small baby. It was in a blanket, so I don’t know if it’s a girl or boy. Cute thing, though; fat, little cheeks and big, brown eyes.” He didn’t answer, his mood suddenly dropping again. It had been unspoken between them but understood that the plans they had to start a family were to be postponed indefinitely. They ate the rest of their dinner in silence. Ava took the plates to the kitchen and cut a piece of the small cake she had bought that afternoon. She brought it over to see Jonathan, his head resting on the back of the couch again, sound asleep.
∞∞∞
“I bought you something today,” Arianna said as they ate the sandwiches Caleb bought from the deli. They sat on the floor in front of the fireplace with the harsh overhead light turned off.
“Oh, yeah? What is it?” he asked, inhaling his sandwich. She hopped up to get the notebook from the bedroom and held it out to him as she sat back down.
“What’s this?” he asked, turning it over then opening the hard cover. “It’s for your ideas,” she said enthusiastically. “I thought it might get hard to hold so many ideas and plans in your head, keep them all straight, so I bought you this.” He stared at it for a long time, feeling the slightest bit of panic come over him.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”
“Of course, I do. Thank you, Ahna. It’s perfect,” he said and smiled at her, hoping that she couldn’t see through him at that moment. In truth, he had absolutely nothing to write down.
November 2nd 1929
The morning brought pain and stiffness the likes of which none of the men had ever experienced. Overworked back, arm and leg muscles stung and cramped in protest as each man agonizingly pulled his body from bed to begin another day of grueling labor.
Ava found herself doing the same monotonous housework as the morning before. She was tempted to do more but decided it wouldn’t make any improvement on the appearance of the apartment, so she sat down to read by the fire. She couldn’t concentrate and gave up after reading the same paragraph several times. She stared into the fire for a long while. Even though only three days had passed, her lovely home, her idyllic existence, and even her normally amorous husband all seemed like distant memories now. With nothing to distract her, she was unable to prevent the torrent of emotion that had been building for the last week from surfacing. Memories crept to the forefront of her mind. Details of the life she used to have, and the harsh contrast of her present reality hit her with full force. She covered her face with her hands, folded over onto her knees and sobbed.
∞∞∞
Word travels fast in poor and rich circles alike, and the buzz around the shipping dock revolved around the three new hires. A scruffy-looking man with a full beard poked Jonathan in the shoulder during the brief morning break as he leaned against a partially unloaded pallet of flour sacks.
“Is it true what they been sayin’ bout you and your friends?” Jonathan looked up at him.
“What who’s been saying?” he asked, confused and sounding uninterested.
“That you’re a bunch of rich boys turned poor. Lost it all when the market took a dive last week. Now you’re tryin’ to be one o' us.” Jonathan grimaced at the insensitive and boorish man standing before him.
“Yeah, something like that,” he said looking away, wishing Caleb was here. He had a way with people and would handle this confrontation with more tact than Jonathan could manage right now.
“Well, don’t think that you’re gonna get treated special, or you can get away with slacking off. I don’t care how much money you had, you gotta pull your own weight round here,” he said with fictitious authority. He walked away without waiting for a response. Not that Jonathan was about to give him one. He added coping with the resentment of the poor toward the rich, the previously rich in his case, to his ever-long list of adverse working conditions. He looked up at the dark clouds threatening rain. He stared at the churning sky, astounded at how a life could change so drastically and so quickly.
∞∞∞
Claire glanced at Ava, noticing her slightly puffy eyes but didn’t say anything. They sat at Arianna’s table, which she had arranged with the letter paper, pens, envelopes, little desert cakes and flowers.
“I have no idea how we’re going to discreetly inform our families of our situation without too much embarrassment. Anybody have any idea how to start?” Arianna asked.
“With honesty,” Claire said.
“No need to put perfume on a pig.” Ava laughed lightly.
“But people might think we’re looking for sympathy or charity. I can’t have family thinking I’m looking for a handout,” she said firmly. Ava didn’t feel like debating with Arianna about what was and what was not charity. She was still fatigued from her crying jag that had lasted most of the morning. Claire looked at Arianna with irritation.
“If it’s family, it’s not a handout, and we’re not asking for any help. Why don’t you focus on asking them how they are? You can drop subtleties about your own situation throughout, without outright saying anything.”
“Claire is right. You should be honest,” Ava spoke up. “Hiding behind niceties and false perceptions isn’t going to do any good for them or you. I plan to inform Jonathan’s parents exactly how desperate our situation is. I won’t ask for it outright but, if they offer help, I’ll take it. I’m not too proud,” she said and started her letter. They spent the majority of the afternoon working on their letters until they were satisfied enough with the wording.
The evening went much the same as the previous with Jonathan falling asleep shortly after dinner, Aryl lost in his thoughts trying to piece together a plan, and Caleb going out to buy dinner from the deli. Again.
November 3rd 1929
“You’re alive,” Ava joked, getting up to hug Jonathan. It hurt to lift his arms to hug her back, so he settled for a kiss on the neck. They had slept late on Sunday. When Jonathan emerged from the bedroom, it was after one o’clock in the afternoon.
“Yeah, but I slept half-way through my only day off,” he scoffed. “I’m starving. What do we have around here?” he asked, looking toward the small kitchen.
“Go sit. I’ll make you something.”
She made him a large bowl of oatmeal with fried bread on the side. “My aunt and I used to have this often. I had forgotten all about it until yesterday,” she said, sitting down close beside him. “The oatmeal gets old after a while, but I’ll pick up some jam to flavor it. And you’ll love the butter-fried bread. It’s wonderful.” He dug in without answering, not remembering ever being this hungry. If he’d taken the time to taste it, he would have remembered that he really didn’t like oatmeal. However, he did like the fried bread and asked for seconds.
“What do you want to do today?” she asked as she put thick slices of butter-laden bread in the frying pan.
“I don’t know. I honestly didn’t expect to wake up, so I didn’t make any plans.”
“Jonathan, that’s not funny.”
“I’d really just like to relax. Maybe we could start a fire and read.”
Well, that’s a start anyway, she thought. Jonathan painfully trudged downstairs to buy another armload of firewood. It was cold, and the gas furnace could barely keep the chill off. He started the fire and ate a third helping of fried bread. Then he settled on the couch with his arm around Ava, who curled up beside him. He took the book and began reading where he left off on Halloween. The wind howled outside, rattled the broken windowpane, and rain pecked at the glass. With her head on his chest, Jonathan absentmindedly rubbed Ava’s arm but stopped quickly when the blisters on his hand snagged on the material of her sweater. Ava causally placed her hand on Jonathan’s knee, left it still for a moment, then drew small circles with her finger very slowly up his leg. He noticed her feather light touch when it reached mid-thigh, stopped reading, a
nd glanced down at her. She looked up at him with a shy but devious smile.
“Ava,” he hesitated. Her eyes dropped from his, and she recoiled, feeling slightly rejected. “It’s not you, Ava.” She nodded without making eye contact. “No, I swear, it’s not you. I just don’t know if I can. You have no idea how badly my entire body hurts. My arms feel like lead. I’m not sure I have the strength.” He nudged her to look up at him. “I couldn’t bear to start something I was unable to finish,” he assured her.
“Is that all?” she asked with one eyebrow raised. “You’re sure that’s the only reason?”
“Yes. I swear to you.” She thought for a moment, steeling herself against possible rebuff and raised her head again more boldly than she had ever dared, craned her neck to kiss him and began pulling his white t-shirt up over his chest. He moved quickly to hold her wrist.
“Ava,” he whispered, clearly tormented and trying to pull her hand away. She clutched a fistful of his t-shirt and refused to let go.
“You may be hurting too badly to hold yourself up, but I’m not.” His eyes widened slightly as she continued to push his shirt up and moved herself over him. Stunned by her overt demands, he grinned his approval.
After a brief but intense encounter, Ava lay on his chest, her face hidden in his neck and drifted off to sleep while he ran the back of his fingers up and down the length of her bare back. A hard knock at the door shook them both from their serene respite.
“Well, I guess the timing could have been worse,” Jonathan said with a sly grin. “It’s probably Aryl. He mentioned yesterday that he needed to talk to me about something.” Ava groggily lifted herself from Jonathan’s chest and reached for her dress, which hung off the corner of the fireplace mantel. “Do you know where my pants are?” Jonathan looked around, amused. He found them by the door and slipped them on with difficulty in bending his sore legs.
He was still smiling when he opened the door but dropped it quickly as his serene afternoon shattered in an instant.
“What are you doing here, Victor?” he growled.
Victor stood in the doorway with a malicious smile, looking Jonathan up and down. He was shirtless with wrinkled pants, messy hair and still unshaven for the day. Jonathan was immediately self-conscious of his appearance and angry that he should even care for a moment what Victor thought of him. “I said, what you are doing here?” Jonathan repeated. Victor held up a few sheets of paper.
“Your paperwork is missing some information.” He glared at Jonathan. “Under ‘current employer’, you didn’t write anything down. You do have a job, don’t you, Jonathan?” he asked, enjoying this completely.
“Yes, I do,” Jonathan said through his teeth, holding his hand out for the paperwork. Victor looked slightly disappointed.
“I brought a pen,” Victor offered with false politeness. “Didn’t know if you still owned one,” he said, glancing toward the barren apartment. Jonathan’s blood boiled as he filled out the details of the job he detested. He shoved the paperwork back at Victor and started to close the door.
“Do your friends work at the shipping dock with you?” Victor asked, looking over the paper.
“Yes. And I’m sure you know where they live, so you can verify that,” Jonathan scowled.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to bother them on a Sunday afternoon.” He looked up at Jonathan with a smirk. “I’ll just fill in their paperwork back at the office. Give Ava my regards, will you?” He oozed with phony politeness.
Jonathan slammed the door, furious and humiliated. He turned to see Ava standing in the bedroom doorway with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He dropped his head and sighed. This wasn’t how he wanted her to find out.
“Tell me that wasn’t who I think it was.”
He walked over and reached for her hand, but she jerked it away.
“I was going to tell you, Ava. I was just waiting for the right time.”
“The right time?” she mocked. “You should have told me from the start!”
“I know. But there was so much happening . . . I didn’t want to give you that to worry about, too, on top of everything else,” he pleaded.
“Why would you do this, Jonathan? How could you rent from him? Of all the places! You know almost better than I do what a horrible person he is! Why would you purposefully…” She stared at him. He sighed and winced as he attempted to raise his hands to rest them on top of his head.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Ava. I didn’t seek this out. Caleb was in charge of looking for a place to live, remember? He went to several places, and no one had anything available. Not anything we could afford, anyway.” She shook her head angrily and tears filled her eyes.
“No. No, this city is enormous. There are thousands of apartments. You could have told Caleb no. You could have kept looking the next day, the next week if you needed to!”
“And risk having the auctioneers show up and take the very chair out from under you! I had to get you out of there fast, so you wouldn’t have to see that. Watch people take everything we owned. I couldn’t stand to watch that. Could you, Ava?” Ava’s fists balled up at her sides, and her face reddened.
“I would rather have watched them take and sell everything we owned than to have to live here under his thumb! How can you stand that, Jonathan?” she screamed at him.
“Damn it, Ava! I didn’t have a choice!” he screamed back. She took a step back and slammed the bedroom door in his face. He stood for a moment, in disbelief of what just happened. They hardly ever fought and had never screamed or slammed doors. He knocked on the door after a moment.
“Ava, let me in, honey,” he said in a kinder tone, his forehead on the door.
“Go away!” she screamed, and he jerked back slightly when something hit the other side of the door. He sighed in frustration and sat on the couch, dropping his head in his hands. He had never shouted like that, nor had she ever yelled at him. He began to wonder if this small part of their miserable situation could have been avoided. Maybe they could have taken one more day to look. Maybe the bank would have waited a day or two. Madness was happening and no one knew which way was up. They might have had more time. Maybe even a week. Maybe he should have kept walking that day and told Caleb to go to hell. After all, Victor wasn’t going to bother him. Suddenly, he was furious as he mulled over the possibilities.
“Dammit!” He stormed out of his apartment before he could think rationally and stomped down the hall to bang on Caleb’s door. Caleb opened it, much the way Jonathan had answered his door, moments ago.
“Do you know who just showed up at my door, Caleb?” Jonathan seethed.
“No, who?”
“Victor. Victor Drayton just showed up at my door.” Caleb rubbed his forehead, his eyes squinting as if in pain for his friend.
“What did he want?”
“Does it really matter, Caleb? Honestly, does it matter? He found a reason to come to my door and taunt me. And he’ll find another and another, until I lose my mind.” He turned, took two steps, then turned back to face Caleb. “Exactly how many places did you go to, Caleb, to look for apartments?”
“Several before Victor,” he said cautiously.
“And you honestly couldn’t find anything else? You couldn’t think of any other agencies to go to. You got a few ‘no’ answers and just gave up and went to Victor.” Caleb started to realize that Jonathan hadn’t come here to vent to a friend. He was actually mad at him. Caleb folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.
“What are you getting at, Jon?”
“I’m getting at the fact that you were the one to go to him and set all this up. But you don’t have to deal with that bastard. So, it didn’t really matter who you went to, did it? Did you ever stop to think how this would affect me? Or Ava?”
“Of course, I did, Jon. I didn’t take going to him lightly. I knew it would be hard on you, but our backs were against the wall. We had to move fast. We talked about all this at your house the night before.”
“We never talked about going to Victor.” Jonathan clenched his teeth.
“We had no choice, Jon.”
“That’s not true and you know it. We could have stayed a couple more days. You could have thought this through better, found a better place to live.”
“I guess we could have stayed a couple more days and risked being thrown out on our asses without warning. Not to mention watching the auction house pick through our things. How hard would that have been on Ava?” Jonathan didn’t have anything to say immediately but pointed a finger at Caleb.
“It didn’t have to be like this,” he said through clenched teeth. “You could have tried harder. You didn’t do everything you could have. If you’d kept your eyes open, not given up so soon, and seen what was going on around you, just taken more time to think things through, think ahead, plan ahead, not gambled everything, not risked everything.” He stared at Caleb, trembling and then walked back to his apartment. Caleb looked down at the floor, realizing Jonathan wasn’t so much yelling at him as he was reprimanding himself. Arianna stood behind Caleb with her hand on his back.
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked quietly. Caleb shook his head while he closed the door.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, he owes you an apology for yelling at you like that, Caleb.”
“He knows. He will when he can.” He leaned against the door for a moment.
“Ava is probably pretty upset, too,” Arianna assumed.
“I think we can bet on that. Maybe you should go see her in a little while. But do me a favor and don’t say anything to Jon.”
“I won’t,” she promised. Caleb sat down, started writing in his notebook, and Arianna snuggled close to him.
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