by C. E. Murphy
Dorothy squeaked, "No!" and shot Barb a wide-eyed look when Barb glared at her. "She might poison us or something!" Dot hissed.
"Dot," Wanda protested weakly, but went quiet again as Barb's filthy look returned to her.
Rosie felt her smile begin to slip. "So I guess that means you don't want me to fry you up some wieners, Dot. Anybody else?" She got a jar down instead of watching them look at each other, and fried up her hot dogs with an itch between her shoulder blades. She didn't dare look over her shoulder to see if the three girls really were watching her, but they sure as heck didn't go back to talking among themselves while she cooked. Chin held high, she put food on her plate and sat down at the table.
It didn't take hardly two minutes for the others to clear out. Even Wanda, who never left dirty dishes, left her plate and fork by the sink in her hurry to get away. Rosie watched them, trying to look like she thought they were funny, but the moment they were gone she put her fork down and her face in her hands, trying to hold back tears. After some deep breaths and a reminder her wieners were cooling, she got control of herself and ate dinner. Then she scooped some extra macaroni salad onto her plate, got a glass of lemonade, and retreated to her bedroom feeling like she'd fought hard enough for one night. Irene had a copy of Forever Amber on her bedstand. Rosie borrowed it, reading while she ate the rest of the salad and lemonade, and fell asleep without brushing her teeth.
She heard Irene come in hours later, but only pulled the pillow over her head, not ready to wake up or talk to anyone. By the time morning and almost twelve hours of sleep had rolled around, she couldn't pretend not to be awake when Rene got up, or when everyone else banged around the house. She didn't make much effort to leave the room, though, except to brush her teeth, until most everybody had left for the day. Marge probably hadn't, but Marge liked to sleep late, so once the other girls were gone, Rosie felt safe enough leaving the bedroom.
"Safe," she whispered as she got coffee. She shouldn't have to sneak around to feel safe in her own house. Maybe her folks were right and she should move back home, although with Rich back, even her parents would probably think she ought to just get married. Well, that just wouldn't do. She poured another cup of coffee and flipped the paper open, the ink's sweet, acrid scent mixing with the coffee's richer smell. There were plenty of jobs if you could type or wanted to waitress, but she kept looking, as if searching the pages again would turn up an ad that read Wanted: Rosie the Riveter, for construction & mechanical work. No, those jobs were for men coming home from the war. After a while she pushed the paper back and rubbed her hands through her hair, too late realizing she had newsprint on her fingertips. Well, now she probably had it on her face, too. She gave her forehead an ineffectual swipe, then got up to wash her face and look at herself in the mirror.
Even early in the day, her cheeks were awfully pink from heat, although washing up with cool water helped. Her eyes still looked tired, despite catching up on her sleep. But the weariness reflected back at her ran deeper than a lack of sleep. "It's all crazy," she whispered to the mirror, and, since she was talking to herself anyways, added, "You're gonna have to learn to type, Ro. It'll be helpful for school. You'll be able to type up your papers faster, and get a job being a secretary or something until you have your degree, because you gotta face it, nobody's going to hire a girl riveter anymore." She pulled a few pin curls into place, then gave a short laugh. Look at her, fixing her hair, worrying about a job, when her housemates wouldn't talk to her, and last night, Hank had gone out to dump the body of the third person she'd killed in a handful of days. Even if they weren't really people anymore. It seemed like she had bigger worries than her hair, but she still kept fussing over it.
Pearl Daly had bigger worries, too. Rosie patted her face dry and marched out of the house to go visit Pearl. She didn't much know what she could do for Pearl other than let her know she hadn't been forgotten, but that might be enough, and it gave Rosie something to do until she could call Hank, either at home or work, and set up testing his empathy. A tram full of factory girls shining with sweat brought Rosie close enough to Pearl's apartment to walk the rest of the way. She stopped at a five-and-dime store for a couple of ice creams even if it was only nine in the morning, then hurried up four floors to knock on Pearl's door.
The smaller girl opened it cautiously but lit up as Rosie thrust the ice cream at her. "Eat it quick before it all melts! I got vanilla, I figured nobody could object to that."
"I was just trying to decide what to have for breakfast." Pearl beamed at Rosie and gave the dripping cone a quick lick as she stepped back to let Rosie into the apartment. She'd gained some weight, and her color, which had improved instantly when Rosie Redeemed her, looked better still. "How come you're here?"
"I wanted to check on you. I said I would." Rosie came in to sit on the couch and finish her own ice cream. "How are you doing?"
Pearl curled into the armchair, nodding. "I'm okay. I think I'm okay. I wrote a letter to Johnny's lady."
Rosie blinked. "Oh. Oh! I'd forgotten you were going to do that. Thank you." Jean would never get her wish of all the demons in Detroit being dead by Saturday if they had to wait on mail to France, but then, that wish had never been going to come true, anyways. "Have you gotten out of here at all?"
"Well, I went to the post office." Pearl smiled and shifted her shoulders. "I've gotten the paper and called about some jobs. I need to learn to type."
Rosie looked at her hands. "Yeah, me too, I guess. I got fired," she said to Pearl's questioning glance. "I was a bad influence on the girls, and frightening."
"You were—! But—!"
"I know, but what could I do?" Rosie finished her ice cream and got up to wash her hands.
"I could tell them … something …"
"No, don't. Don't get yourself any more into this mess than you are, Pearl." Rosie smiled ruefully over her shoulder at the other woman. "Thanks for the offer, though. Are there any typing classes in the ads? I didn't think to look."
"A couple, at different schools. Some are for shorthand typing, and those take a while, but just learning to type is a six-week class, and they swear you'll find a job if you learn there. It doesn't cost too much, so I'm trying to find some other job in the meantime. I guess I haven't been fired from the factory, but I haven't been in in days, and even if I've still got a job, I don't want to go back." Pearl shivered more than the ice cream accounted for, and Rosie nodded sympathetically.
"Well, I'm not going to let Hank throw you out of here, so if it means taking the class and finding a job, then that's just what's going to happen. And you oughta be able to apply for unemployment, Pearl. I did." Rosie came back to sit down again, realizing as she did that Pearl wore the same blouse and dungarees she'd had on the last time Rosie had seen her, the ones she'd been wearing under her work coveralls. "You don't have any other clothes, do you?"
Surprise and guilt turned Pearl's cheeks pink. "Everything was at Johnny's."
"And Hank didn't think of that. Heck, neither did I. Well, we're just going to have to find you a few outfits, I guess. Dorothy at home is slight like you, I'll see if I can't talk her out of a couple blouses and jeans, and I'll buy you a new dress for interviews."
Pearl's eyes rounded. "Oh. Oh, no, you couldn't do that."
"You can pay me back when you're not flat, but for now, you want to put your best foot forward, right? So let me help. I guess all of us who know what's going on here should stick together."
"You're an awful nice lady, Miss Ransom. Especially considering I almost got you killed."
"You were trying to protect yourself. I guess I know what that feels like, now. I don't hold it against you." Rosie grinned. "But don't do it again!"
"That's a deal."
Rosie, still grinning, stood up again. "All right. Look, I don't think I gave you my phone number. Let me do that, and you can give me a call and we'll go shopping this week. Not on Saturday, but it's only Wednesday." She wrote her number down. "Gi
ve me a call tomorrow or Friday and we'll figure it out. In the meantime, look, here. Take this, just so you've got some pin money." She took a ten-dollar bill out of her purse and offered it to Pearl, whose fingers opened and closed reluctantly.
"I shouldn't …"
"You can pay me back for this, too, sometime. I'd just feel better if I knew you had some cash, Pearl. I want to be sure you're eating okay."
Pearl took the bill carefully, unable to meet Rosie's eyes. "Thank you again, Miss Ransom."
"I told you to call me Rosie." Rosie hugged the other woman, taking care to avoid the last bites of ice cream cone in Pearl's hand, and waved herself out with Pearl's smile following her.
TWENTY
Rosie stopped at the five-and-dime again to call Hank, who wasn't home, and then the police station, where it took a couple minutes and some more nickels for the phone to get him on the line to say, "I can't get away until after work."
Rosie puffed her cheeks at the sky. "Not even for lunch?"
"No. Regular desk sergeant sprained his ankle and can't get in. I'm covering for him." Hank chuckled. "The secretary says he hurt himself because some pretty girl twitted him about his figure, and he overdid it on the exercise."
Rosie clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. "The tubby sergeant who's going bald?"
"Yeah, you know him?"
"I was the girl."
"Oh." Hank sounded suddenly cheerful. "So it's your fault I can't make it until this evening."
"I guess so. All right, see you then." Rosie hung up, called Jean to say she wouldn't be over until evening, then put her hands on her hips and looked up and down the street, trying to figure out what to do with the day. Maybe visit her folks again. Maybe go to Hank's library and practice throwing knives. Or see if she could figure out how to fix the window in there, since it couldn't be good to have people able to look in and see his secret library. Well, at the least, she could board it up, if she got measurements. Whistling, she caught a tram and went downtown, letting herself in to the library just like she belonged there.
Hank had obviously come back the night before, because the window already had cardboard over it. Rosie dragged a chair over and climbed up to measure the space, examining the seals while she stood there. "Yeah," she said aloud, to herself. "I can do this." It might take a library book on how, but she could do it. Whistling again, she left to get glass cut and a how-to book from the library, and spent most of the afternoon using the kind of salty language that would probably make Hank blush to hear it from a girl. But by dinnertime, the window had been replaced, and Rosie, looking at the bright light it spilled in compared to the other windows, splashed it with water and threw some dirt on it to grime it up properly. After that it hardly looked any different from the other windows, from either inside or out. Satisfied with herself, she cleaned up, found a phone, and told Jean she'd be there soon.
"Bring dinner," Jean said. "I don't have enough for three. I haven't gone shopping since …"
"Okay. I'll go to Big Bob's again." Rosie hung up the pay phone, wrinkling her nose at the late-evening sun. She'd blow through all her savings if she kept eating out like this, but she hadn't eaten much that day except ice cream herself, and dinner sounded like a great idea. She headed for the nearest tram stop, mopping sweat off her neck. A breeze came up, just enough to tease promises of cooler air, but the rattling car still felt like an oven, and by the time she reached her stop, she didn't care if she spent every cent in her bank account, as long as she got a cold soda and some extra ice to wash her face with.
For a hot Thursday evening, a lot of people had crowded into the diner. The counter didn't have a single empty seat, and people were tucked by groups into the booths. Even most of the meant-for-two booths sported four, and a familiar laugh greeted her over the sound of the chiming door bells as she walked in. Rosie peered around, looking for Irene, and found Rich instead, or at least, found him first. They were in a corner, almost out of sight from the door, one of the few couples instead of crowds in the booths. Irene couldn't hardly have been off work more than half an hour, but there they were, all settled into a booth instead of waiting. Rich leaned in, smiling at Irene, who looked pretty as a picture even in the heat, with her cheeks all flushed and baby curls escaping around her nape and temples. Rich looked almost as pretty, even if pretty wasn't a word for boys, with his good grin and the confident, military set of his shoulders. He said something and Irene laughed again, and instead of heading over to say hi like she'd been going to, Rosie stopped short, feeling like an intruder just by seeing them.
A pink-cheeked waitress stopped breathlessly beside Rosie. "Hi, hon, I don't know how long it's going to be before I can get you a seat. Got any friends here tonight you can join?"
Rosie bit her lip, looking toward Irene and Rich, but shook her head. "No, I just wanted to get something to go. Can I do that?"
"Oh, gosh, sure. I wish I could offer you a place to take a load off while you wait, but it's just crazy here tonight. Too hot to cook!"
"No, it's okay. I might even wait outside, at least there's a breeze out there. Can I get a glass of water while I wait?"
"Coming up," the waitress said with a smile. "Know what you want to order or do you need a menu?"
"I can order." Rosie did, got the water, and went outdoors to hide under the canopy with half a dozen other people while she drank it. They had everything in the world to talk about, it sounded like, and she let their chatter wash over her, closing her eyes as she listened to talk about the war and the possibility of Japanese surrender along with complaints about the baby not nursing in the heat and whether or not Hammerin' Hank would take the Tigers all the way through to the Series in the fall. It all sounded so ordinary that tears pressed against the insides of Rosie's eyelids. She took a couple fast sips of water, trying to freeze the emotion away, and instead swallowed an ice cube that set her coughing until the tears ran down her face. For a moment, everybody around her set aside their conversations to pat her back and look at her in concern, but as she recovered, they drifted back into their own ordinary worlds. Rosie sat on the window ledge, wiping her eyes carefully, and finished her water as someone else came out of the diner to join the little crowd under the veranda. The group shifted to accommodate them before a pleasantly surprised woman's voice said, "Rosie?" and the crowd moved more, letting Valentine Vaughn through.
Rosie stood, making a gesture with her water glass that invited Mrs Vaughn to sit where she'd been perched. Valentine glanced down at her own perfectly trimmed cream-colored dress, and up again with a smile. "Perhaps you and your dungarees are better suited to window sills than I am. How are you? Didn't I see your friend Irene inside? That's a handsome young man she's with. Her beau, home from Europe? My goodness, won't Daniel Franklin be disappointed." A sparkle came into her eyes. "Kind of you to give them some time alone. I'm sure we'd all rather be inside than out on the sidewalk."
"I'm fine, thank you, Mrs Vaughn. What are you doing here? I'm sorry." Rosie blushed. "It's just Big Bob's doesn't seem like your …" She stopped, uncertain of how to say anything else without giving offense.
Amused confidentiality pursed Valentine's lips and she leaned in to murmur, "Don't tell anyone, but even a well-bred English woman likes the occasional burger." Her smile turned to laughter and she shook her head. "Harry has a terrible weakness for bacon cheeseburgers, and he asked me to stop and get him one while he's in a meeting. Usually I would let our driver take care of such things, but the car is absolutely stifling and I thought I'd feel better with a walk."
"You're not in the Jaguar?" Rosie asked in surprise. "I'd think on a day like today, you'd be driving around with the top down and the wind in your hair."
Valentine touched her careful blond curls. "Not after I've just had it set. Oh, I've gotten terribly old and dull, haven't I? I'll have to insist Hank take the car tonight and bring you out somewhere, Rosie." She laid her hand on Rosie's arm, emotion deepening her voice. "It's so n
ice he's making friends his own age. He's been so isolated since he came home from Europe, and I've been worried about him. He was always bookish, but the past year …" She sighed, shaking her head. "But that's the price of war, isn't it? We all change so much."
"Bookish? I thought he was a pugilist like Mr Vaughn."
"Oh …" A line appeared between Valentine's eyebrows. "Yes, I suppose so. I suppose we often see our children the way we want to, don't we? He did box. Quite well, in fact. But I remember him sitting on the window ledge, surrounded by books. I suppose that's my favorite way to think of him. I hope friends will help him settle back down. Perhaps your friend Irene and her young man will get him in a more permanent mood."
Rosie glanced through the diner window, unable to see Rich or Irene, and nodded without meaning anything by it. "What about you, Rosie? Oh, but no, you said you didn't want to settle down, didn't you. Well, perhaps Irene will get you in a settling mood, too. I'm glad she's got a nice local young man. Daniel is a darling, but really, he's such an actor. Wealthy, of course, and charming, and very handsome, but a girl could hardly rely on him. It's much more sensible to keep things in perspective."
"But you were a nurse," Rosie said. "That can't be practical, can it? Going off to serve and help in a war when you didn't have to? You must have really wanted to. You must have followed your dreams to do that. Don't you think Irene should? Or any girl?"
Valentine sighed. "I thought that when I was a girl, of course. It's different, when you've been to war. Well, you must understand that now, Rosie. After what happened last weekend," she said with significance, leaving Rosie glad she didn't spell it out for everyone chatting around them. "You must want the comfort of a family in your future, after all you've been through."