Everyone laughed.
I didn’t.
“Your food is hot,” I said, and went into my bedroom and closed the door.
She didn’t lower the music. I had to throw my window up to get more fresh air, because the odor of the cigarette smoke was seeping in under the door. For a while, I just lay on my bed, sulking. A few minutes later, I heard what sounded like someone knocking on our door quite vehemently and rose just as Piper opened it. Leo Abbot was standing there.
“Your music’s too loud,” he said. “It’s bothering the other tenant on this floor, as well as the one directly below. We have a time cutoff for loud noises. You were told,” he said. He saw me come out of my bedroom and realized from the look on my face that I had nothing to do with it.
“We’ll lower it right now, Mr. Abbot. I’m sorry,” I said, eyeing Piper.
She smirked and shouted to Jerome to turn down the radio.
“We’re just trying to have some fun,” she said.
“Have all you want,” Leo Abbot said. “Just don’t do it at someone else’s expense, and please, follow our rules for noise.”
He turned and went down the stairs. Piper stuck out her tongue and closed the door.
“There’s an old lady across the hall who hasn’t been told she’s dead,” Piper told her friends. Everyone smiled and returned to their food. Piper looked at me. “Why don’t you join us and be sociable? It’s not that late, Emma.”
“It is for me, Piper. Please keep the noise down as Leo asked, and stop the smoking. I hope you’ll clean up, too,” I said, and returned to my bedroom.
Leo Abbot’s complaint and my attitude apparently were enough to discourage them. A little less than an hour later, I heard them all leave, their voices and laughter quite loud, Piper the loudest. I stepped out when they were gone and discovered no one had cleaned up anything. I decided to leave it to see what she would do when she returned.
She didn’t come back before I had to leave in the morning, although looking into her bedroom, it was difficult to tell whether it had been used the night before, anyway. It always looked used. I cleared away what I could but left the dishes and glasses to be washed. It was going to be a big day for me. I didn’t want to concentrate on any of this or let it dampen my enthusiasm.
My second surprise came when I arrived at my callback audition. There were close to seventy-five candidates who had received the same invitation. All of them could read music.
Overhearing those nearest to me talk, I learned these four had gone to Juilliard. Every one of them was accomplished on some instrument as well. The producers gave each of us a little longer to perform, and I noticed there were different people listening and judging. At the end, everyone was told the same thing: “Thank you. We’ll let you know very soon.”
I returned to work wondering if I should have tried to make at least one of those conflicting auditions. I was sure the line was still out in the street, but I couldn’t drum up the energy to go through another the same day, even though I knew Mr. Manning would have permitted it. I’d just owe more time.
Before I had come to New York, even before I had made specific plans and saved my money, I continually told myself that I was embarking on a very difficult journey, one that for well over ninety percent usually resulted in disappointment. I convinced myself that no matter how hard it would be, I would not let myself get disheartened. When I told that to Jon and his friends, I was as confident of that as I had been before I arrived in New York. Yet here I was with not even a half dozen attempts to get noticed, and I was already feeling despondent and lost. All that had happened at the apartment the night before didn’t help alleviate this mood, either; it enhanced it.
Marge was the first to notice something different about me when I arrived at the restaurant. She thought I had already learned I had been rejected at the audition.
“No. It will take a little longer to fail,” I said, hating myself for sounding as whiny as Piper usually did.
“Okay. But don’t forget to smile here,” she said. “People like to feel welcome and needed.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for me, Emma, be sorry for yourself. It impacts on tips.”
I did the best I could, and none of my customers seemed especially dissatisfied. When Buck could stop for a moment, he hurried back to me.
“You have the audition,” he said. “I’ll write the address for you. Get there at eight. The man you want to meet is Curly Becker.”
“Curly? Doesn’t anyone have a normal name in America anymore?”
He laughed. “If I get out early enough, I’ll pop over to give you some support.”
“Thank you, Buck,” I said. It cheered me a little, but I still didn’t have my usual energy.
Marge was watching and pounced when she could. “So, what’s wrong?” she asked when we had a short break in the activity.
Where do I begin? I wondered, and also wondered if I should. I really hadn’t been here long enough to feel sorry for myself.
“The shine, if there was one, has worn off my roommate, as you predicted.” I had dropped hints about Piper all week.
She nodded. “Don’t give an inch. She sounds like someone who will take a mile.”
“I don’t mind that what I’ve set out to do is difficult. I expected it to be so. I’m just having some early worries about it all.”
“I’d worry about you if you didn’t. You’ll know when to give up if that’s what you have to do, Emma. Remember what I said about most people having to do something else in their lives. I had ambitions, too. Although I didn’t have half the grit you do.”
“I’m far from the point where I would give up,” I said. “Although it would please my father. He’d run my life from first morning breath to closing my eyes at night if I went home defeated.”
“Have you spoken to your parents yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Your father will ease up. Time and distance put out flames,” she said.
“My father doesn’t have flames; he has hot coals.”
She laughed.
Because of my extended hours, she left way before I did. When I got to the apartment, Piper was sprawled on the sofa, a box with leftover pizza on the floor beside her. She opened her eyes.
“Jerome just left,” she said. “He wanted to do something to please you so he bought all this pizza. He suffers guilt, which makes him easy to exploit.”
“That’s terrible.” I looked around. “I see you haven’t done much to clean up after your party.”
“I’d hardly call it a party, being we were forced to keep so quiet and stifle our fun.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I left a message for you by the phone.”
“Message? From whom?”
“Whom? The casting director at the audition you attended.” She shrugged. “She said thank you, but they’ve filled the role.”
“Oh.” I was tired, exhausted, but the news, especially coming from her, seemed to drain me of my last bit of energy.
She saw it, too, and put it in terms I wouldn’t think she was capable of expressing. “You look like a kite after the wind dies down and it floats back to earth.”
“The wind always comes back,” I practically spit back at her.
She smiled. “Maybe.”
“Clean up this place,” I snapped, then scooped up the message she had scribbled and went to my room.
For a few moments, I just stood there.
And then it happened.
I had my first real cry.
SIX
She knocked softly on my door. I ignored it, but she knocked harder.
“Hey, Emma. Can I come in?”
I wiped away my tears quickly. She wasn’t someone I’d ever want to see me cry.
“Come in.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about your not getting the role. Don’t take it so hard. I’m sure you’ll get one soon.”
Coming from her, a prediction involving my future in
the theater wasn’t worth the effort it took to hear it.
“Okay. Thanks.”
She lingered. I could feel what was coming. Often in life, you realize something significant and unpleasant about someone you’ve met and nevertheless in some way have to be involved with or need. The tendency at first is to ignore what you know instinctively. Avoiding the truth that’s staring you in the face is what you choose to do, but if you’re honest with yourself, you know that eventually you will regret it. Truth is a stubborn thing. It’s like a bubble in a balloon. You can push it down, but it will pop up somewhere else in the balloon. It will never go away.
Even though I was anticipating the bad news, her deft pause sent rumbles of thunder down my spine. In the short time I’d known her, I realized she was quite expert at smoothing over her own failures or coming up with excuses.
“What is it, Piper?”
“Don’t get upset, but I’m a little short on funds. They cut me back on work this month.”
“Did they cut you back, or did you miss it because of your partying?” I asked, fixing my gaze sternly on her. “I was wondering how you can sleep late so many mornings and how you can be at Jerome’s place so much when you were supposedly working.”
I paused when it came to me. It wasn’t exactly an epiphany, but it was surely a logical realization.
“They didn’t cut you back. They fired you, didn’t they?”
“Don’t bust my chops. Just tell Grandpa we’ll be a little late. He’ll let it slide.”
She started to turn to leave, as if what she had declared was a fait accompli.
“I won’t do that,” I said, turning her back around. “You never paid your half of the deposit, just the first month’s rent. I let you get away with that, Piper, but you have to live up to your responsibility for the rent.”
“Well, I don’t have the money. You going to throw me out?” she snapped.
“If I pay everything, I won’t have that much left. I make most of the money I have now on tips. I don’t make much by the hour. You know that. But I’ve missed a lot of time at work going to open auditions.”
“So that’s your problem, not mine.”
“How can you say that? It is your problem if you don’t pay your fair share. I can pay my fair share.”
She stared a moment and then lost her attitude and smiled with a shrug. “So don’t pay the whole rent tomorrow. Just give him your half, and blame it on me. I’ll get it in a week or so.”
“That’s not right, and ‘or so’ is describing it too vaguely.”
“Vaguely? I speak vague?”
“Mock it and call it what you want. You knew what our obligations were, and you accepted them. A responsible adult lives up to her obligations.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Give me a break. You sound like you’re fifty, not eighteen. Don’t rattle off some lecture or another. I’ve had enough of that in my life.”
“I bet you have, and deservedly so.”
She stared at me, all calmness and restraint leaving her face. “You know what, your royal high ass, I think I’ll just pick up my things and move in with Jerome. How’s that sound?”
“Right now, it sounds terrific,” I said dryly. Her eyes widened at my defiance.
“You won’t last here, Princess Emma Corey,” she said. “You should have listened to your father and stayed home.”
I felt my face redden. I was sorry I had confided anything personal to her. Satisfied with herself, she turned and walked out, closing my door sharply behind her. There was no question Piper could come up with nasty things to say, but nothing would reach as deeply and sting as much as that.
I took a deep breath and turned over, but I didn’t go to sleep. I lay there staring at the windows and the lights flickering outside. It was at times like this when I needed to hear a friendly voice, a loving voice, but it was too early in the morning in England to call. Actually, I was glad it was. I was afraid of calling in the mood I was in right now. My mother would surely hear it in my voice and cry, begging me to come home. I might just give in if she did that.
But that would mean I was turning over my life to my father, who would carve me neatly into the woman he wanted me to be. Years from now, I would wake up every morning and just break out in tears. Whoever I was with would not understand, and I would feel like someone who had gotten married under false pretenses, mouthing “I do,” like some puppet whose strings were curled tightly in my father’s fingers.
I would be so hollow inside that my thoughts would echo.
I swore to myself that I would never go back like this and let him revel in my failure. Never. I’d be like a cowering puppy whimpering. My mother would cry, my sister would look smug and correct, and my father would demand even more obedience. My neck would ache because of how low I constantly kept my head.
Just before I started to doze off, I heard the door of the apartment slam. All became very quiet. I rose slowly and looked out and then checked her bedroom. She and most of her things were gone. If I was truthful with myself, I’d admit that I never had doubts that this moment would come. I was simply, perhaps foolishly, hoping that I would be better prepared for it mentally and financially. Whether I liked it or not, tomorrow I now had to ask Mr. Abbot to give me a little more time to pay the rent. The utility bills had to be paid, too, and now entirely by me. I’d be left with a little under fifty dollars.
There was no question that Leo Abbot didn’t like Piper from the start and probably would be happy to hear she was gone. He might be understanding, but I didn’t like falling into debt. In my father’s eyes and burned deeply into my mind was the idea that owing people money you didn’t have and wouldn’t immediately have was practically a cardinal sin. It was beyond mere embarrassment. It diminished you. In one of his Zeus-like pronouncements, he declared that debt darkens your very soul and puts you at the mercy of someone who might very well be inferior in many ways.
“It’s a lesson I always try to impress upon those I turn down for a loan,” he had told me and Julia. “Unfortunately, few heed my words. I’d never lend money to someone who was happy to be obligated. A personal loan is a burden, and you’re born with too many as it is. No need to add to them if you don’t have to. Exhaust every other possibility first.”
After that fatherly advice, I felt guilty permitting a friend to buy me an ice cream cone, and that was just pennies. Sleep was not going to have a comforting embrace tonight. My conscience would keep it barking at the door. Sure enough, I did toss and turn all night, trying to come up with a solution. Any idea I considered just involved borrowing from someone else. I thought about asking Mr. Manning for something of an advance, but I was afraid of letting him know how close to complete failure I was. There was no choice. The following morning, I waited nervously for it to be late enough for me to go knocking on Leo Abbot’s door.
When I did, he took one look at my face, lost his smile, and asked, “What’s wrong, Emma?”
“My roommate deserted me. She left last night. We had a fight because she told me she didn’t have her share of the rent to pay today.”
He nodded. “I expected it. Did she ever compensate you for half the deposit?”
I shook my head. “I can give you all the rent due,” I said quickly. Now that I was facing him, I couldn’t get myself to ask for more time or tell him I’d only give him my half. The words got stuck in my throat.
“But it will clean you out if you pay it all right now?”
“Almost,” I admitted. “I don’t want to disappoint you, Mr. Abbot. I’ll pay it, and I’ll advertise for another roommate today.”
He nodded, thinking. “Let’s let it go another week. I can let it slide that long,” he said. “I don’t like you scraping the bottom. Maybe you’ll get a new roommate before then and get her to pay half the deposit as well as her share of the rent.”
“Thank you, Mr. Abbot.”
“Leo,” he said, smiling. “Anything interesting happening with your si
nging?”
“I might get a part-time job in a club to make extra money. I audition tonight.”
“Okay. See? You’re definitely determined. I’d call you a good bet. Good luck.”
“Thank you,” I said, and hurried off to the restaurant.
Marge was glad to hear Piper had left me, despite the financial strain it had put on me. She told Mr. Manning, who immediately posted another notice on the restaurant’s bulletin board. Everyone, even the other waitresses who I knew were often jealous of me, were sympathetic and supportive. When I left after seven to rush home to freshen up and prepare for my club audition, I felt hopeful and revived, despite the hours and hours of being on my feet at work. Buck had been off today, but I remembered he said he would be there to support me.
Tonight would be my first ride on a New York subway, and I was almost as nervous about that as I was about auditioning. Danny’s Hideaway was located in what was known as the East Village. Studying the map I had, I could see that it was only a few minutes’ walk from the station.
At first, I thought it might have gone out of business when I arrived, because the front windows were so dark, but when I entered, I saw it was quite lively. In fact, it was probably at least three times as large and as crowded as the Three Bears tavern, if not more so. It had a long bar and tables spread throughout, with a small stage area where the piano player was playing. His music sounded to me more like the music of a player piano. I thought he was racing through songs. People talked and even shouted above the music.
Buck popped up from the bar on my left. For a moment, because he was wearing a jacket and tie and had his hair recently trimmed, I didn’t recognize him.
“Hey, don’t look so nervous,” he said, thinking that was why I looked a little shocked. “This isn’t Lincoln Center. C’mon. I’ll introduce you to Curly.”
He took my hand and led me between tables on the right to a corner table close to the piano. A short, heavyset bald man was sitting with another man, taller, tie-less but dressed in a dark-blue suit. He had light-brown hair, but it wasn’t curly. To my surprise, Buck turned to the bald-headed man.
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