“More pathetic than the guy who keeps fish for pets? Besides, KC likes to watch them. It’s cat television.”
“You bring your cat over to traumatize my fish?”
Ellie laughed. “They like to tease her. They come over to the glass and make fish lips at her.”
“How was your Thanksgiving?”
“I had a surprise visitor,” Ellie said. “Teresa Benedetto came by. Brought some food.”
“That was nice of her,” Sullivan said. “I thought she might invite you over.”
Ellie shrugged. “I think she might have, but her family is huge and kind of insular from what I’ve seen.”
“What? Like Italians only?”
“Italians only. Family only.”
“That’s too bad.” Sullivan slouched lower on the couch, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. “Have you ever thought about volunteering at a soup kitchen or something?”
Ellie recognized the signs of Sullivan’s getting ready to settle in for a long visit. More than once, she’d gone to bed with him snoring on her couch. With a resigned sigh, she settled back into the corner of the couch, her legs curled under her.
“I would,” she said. “But they’re all run by churches.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not going anywhere near any church,” she said flatly.
Sullivan looked at her sympathetically, and she knew he was thinking what everyone thought. Let him. It didn’t matter that people assumed she was angry with God over what had happened to her family—“in fact, it makes it easier,” she could have said. “Because then I don’t have to explain the real reason.”
Christmas carols played from tinny-sounding speakers and golden light spilled from the downtown store windows onto the sidewalks as a light snow fell.
“Just enough to make it feel like Christmas,” said Teresa.
“I feel like I’m in a goddamned Bing Crosby movie,” Bernie said, but she smiled as she watched a family of young children with their noses pressed to the Christmas display in the Gimbels window.
They stood with other shoppers, watching an antique electric train chug around a track that ran under a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, winding its way among wrapped boxes and antique toys, little puffs of smoke coming from the engine.
“Makes you wish you were a kid again, doesn’t it?” Teresa asked.
“Want to go sit on Santa’s lap?” Bernie asked.
“I’d break Santa’s lap,” Teresa said dryly. “And don’t even say it,” she added as Bernie opened her mouth with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I don’t want to know what you’d do on Santa’s lap.”
Bernie laughed. “Come on. Let’s knock some of these presents off our lists.”
They went inside, stuffing their coats into a large shopping bag as they hunted for Christmas presents for their families.
Teresa bought new nightgowns and robes for the aunts.
“Didn’t you get them the same thing last year?” Bernie asked.
“It’s what they asked for,” Teresa said. “I don’t think they ever shop for themselves.”
Bernie checked her list. “Let’s head to the shoe department.”
Two hours later, they staggered out of Gimbels, each carrying four bulging shopping bags.
“Well, that’s half the list done,” Teresa moaned. They carried their bags to her car, depositing them in the back seat. “I gotta eat before I do any more shopping.”
“That diner is just around the corner,” Bernie said. “Let’s go there. I’m in the mood for a burger.”
They made their way to Louise’s and had to wait a few minutes for a booth to clear. Teresa picked up a menu as Bernie looked around.
“Isn’t that your friend?”
Teresa looked in the direction Bernie indicated and her heart leapt as she saw Ellie sitting at the counter.
“Ask her to join us,” Bernie suggested.
Teresa shook her head. “She’s probably only got a few minutes on her break. We shouldn’t bother her.”
“What the hell are you talking about? She hasn’t even got her food yet.” Bernie got up from the booth and went to where Ellie was sitting. She tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to Teresa.
Teresa quickly looked down at her menu, feeling her face grow hot. Ellie followed Bernie back to their booth.
“Hi,” Ellie said as Bernie slid into Teresa’s side of the booth.
“You’re on break?” Teresa asked.
“Yes,” Ellie said.
A waitress came over to take their order while Louise was kept busy at the counter and cash register.
“So are you working down here every night?” Teresa asked after the waitress left.
“Just about,” Ellie said, and Teresa noted that she did look tired. “I finish up at the bank at four, catch a bus downtown, and start work at Kaufman’s by five. With the holiday hours, I’m working until ten and then home to do it all again tomorrow.”
“God, I think I’d do without the money,” Bernie said. “Sounds awful.”
Ellie shook her head. “If you’d ever needed the hours and couldn’t get them, you wouldn’t say that. I swore a long time ago that I would never turn down work.” She looked at Teresa. “Did you get your window decorated for Christmas?”
“Kind of.” Teresa grinned apologetically. “My mother insisted on our usual Nativity scene. I figured I better take baby steps.”
Their waitress brought their drinks. Bernie dumped two packets of sugar into her coffee and stirred in some creamer. She tilted her head as she looked at Ellie.
“How old are you anyway?”
“I’ll be twenty-six in March.” Ellie smiled. “Why? How old are y’uns?”
Teresa and Bernie gave each other a wry look. “Thirty-four,” Teresa said.
“God, I feel old,” Bernie muttered. “You’re just a baby.”
“Not a baby,” Teresa said, meeting Ellie’s eyes. “She had to grow up fast. Not like us, still living at home with our parents.”
“Thanks, Bennie. Like I needed to be reminded of that.”
Ellie smiled thoughtfully. “Be glad you still have parents to live with.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry,” Bernie said quickly. “I’m such an asshole sometimes.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, she is an asshole sometimes,” Teresa said. “Ouch!” She reached under the table to rub her shin.
Ellie laughed. “So, I’m guessing you’re down here Christmas shopping.”
“God, yes,” Bernie said. “I always think I have it bad, buying for my family until I see Bennie having to buy for thirty people.”
Just then, the waitress brought their food, so Bernie didn’t see the shadow that crossed Ellie’s face, but Teresa did. She kept an anxious eye on Ellie, but the moment had passed.
“Have things been busy at Kaufman’s?” she asked before Bernie could say something else stupid.
“Crazy.” Ellie squirted some ketchup on her fries. “But I’d rather be busy. Makes the time go by so much faster.”
“Well, we’re heading to Kaufman’s next,” Bernie said.
“Make sure you stop and look at the window displays,” Ellie said. “They’re really nice this year.”
“What department do you work in?” Bernie asked.
“I float wherever they need me. Tonight, I’m in men’s wear.”
Bernie gave Teresa a nudge. “Don’t you still need stuff for your dad and Gianni?”
“I’ll be glad to help you pick something out,” Ellie said. “Do you exchange gifts with Rob and Karen?”
Bernie looked from Ellie to Teresa. “She knows Rob and Karen?”
Teresa’s face burned. “Yes. They… we had dinner with them one night,” she said, concentrating on her corned beef
hash.
Bernie turned back to her plate and the table was silent for a moment.
Ellie, seeming to sense that she’d said something wrong, changed the subject. “You said the last time we met that you teach. What grade?”
“Fourth,” said Bernie through a mouthful of burger. “They’re still cute at that age. They want to learn and they’re too young for the gangs and sex. Just two years later, and all of that changes.”
“They’re into that stuff in sixth grade?” Ellie asked, shocked.
Bernie nodded. “Sadly, yes. Not all of them. But some.”
“I’m sorry about the last time we met,” Ellie said. “I practically accused you of being a racist.”
“Yeah, you did,” Bernie said, appraising her. “But I liked it. You called me on it. That’s more than most people do. Shit, I don’t have any answers, and this goddamned economy doesn’t help. Unemployment’s bad everywhere, but it’s worse in the black neighborhoods.”
Ellie glanced out the window. “Sometimes it’s hard to celebrate things like Christmas when there are so many people who need so much.”
“God, if you let things like that stop you from living, you’ll never have a life,” Bernie said.
“Shut up,” Teresa said in a low voice.
“What? I’m not saying you shouldn’t care, maybe do what you can, but you can’t fix everything. If that’s what you’re waiting for…”
Teresa nearly kicked Bernie under the table, but Ellie’s expression grew thoughtful.
“You’re right,” Ellie said. “I think sometimes I let myself get too wrapped up in all the misery I see.” She glanced at her watch. “Mmm, I’ve got to finish up and get back.” She quickly downed the rest of her hamburger and ate a few more fries. “Come on by men’s wear,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “I’ll help you pick some things out.”
She went to pay her check and waved back at them as she snugged her scarf around her neck. Teresa gave a small wave.
Bernie moved back around to the empty side of the booth. “What’s up with you?”
“What are you talking about?” Teresa lowered her gaze to her plate, but she could feel Bernie’s eyes boring into her.
“You’re weird around her,” Bernie said. “And why didn’t you tell me y’uns had dinner with Rob and Karen?”
Teresa shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t see you for a while and it just didn’t come up.”
“It was the day I asked you about going over there with you, wasn’t it?” Bernie asked doggedly.
“I don’t remember,” Teresa lied.
“Look at me.”
Teresa forced herself to meet Bernie’s eyes.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I told you.”
Teresa could see in Bernie’s eyes that she wasn’t about to let this go. “I’m done. How about you?” she said. “We’ve got more shopping to do.”
She grabbed the check and went to the cash register before Bernie could pepper her with more questions. By the time she’d finished paying, Bernie had put her coat back on and gone outside to light a cigarette.
“I have not heard the end of this,” Teresa muttered to herself as she went back to leave a tip on the table.
CHAPTER 12
Teresa sat against her headboard, her knees hugged to her chest, listening in the dark. It seemed as if it was taking forever for her parents to get to their room. On her nightstand was an open velvet box holding a necklace—a gift for Ellie. She’d spied it in the case at Gimbels while Bernie had been looking at earrings—“as if you need more earrings,” Teresa had teased. She wandered disinterestedly along the jewelry case until she’d seen the necklace. It was a heart, one of those lop-sided, asymmetrical hearts hung on a fine gold chain.
You cannot give a woman a heart necklace, she told herself over and over as she followed Bernie to the petites’ department, but while Bernie was in a dressing room—“why are you trying things on when we’re here to Christmas shop for our families?” Teresa had asked with a shake of her head—she’d hurried back to the jewelry counter to buy the necklace.
“What are you looking so happy about?” Bernie had asked when she emerged from the dressing room.
“Nothing,” Teresa said. “I’m just glad to be getting this shopping done.”
She’d smiled to herself, her hand clasping the small velvet box safely tucked in her coat pocket as they continued shopping. She’d nearly passed out when Bernie spotted Ellie at the diner. It was getting harder and harder to be normal around Ellie, but somehow, she had to figure out how to be. Bernie was relentless—once she got suspicious that someone might have a secret, she wouldn’t stop until she’d found out what it was. For most of her life, Teresa had watched Bernie weasel things out of other people, but Teresa had never had a secret to keep before—and she knows you inside and out.
For the hundredth time in the past two weeks, she took the velvet box in her hands, touching a finger to the delicate little heart. She knew it would look beautiful hanging around Ellie’s slender neck, but she hadn’t plucked up the courage to give it to her.
What if she won’t accept it? What if she thinks you’re queer or something?
Even in the dark, alone, Teresa blushed at the words.
“Feelings of a romantic nature for another girl are unnatural and ungodly,” Sister Marguerite had lectured the girls in Teresa and Bernie’s fourth grade class while the boys were sequestered in the gym, being lectured to by Father Paul. “Those feelings, if they must be expressed at all,” Sister Marguerite continued, “should be directed toward one particular young man who may be the father of your children.”
“I can’t believe we’re being lectured to about our periods and getting married by a nun,” Bernie had whispered in Teresa’s ear, but Teresa had stared at her desktop, tracing her finger over and over along the gouged letters carved there by previous students. She was certain, if she looked Sister Marguerite in the eye, that she would be able to tell that Teresa was ungodly.
“How could she know?” Teresa asked herself in a panic. Three rows up and two seats to the right sat Penelope Jones, the prettiest girl in the entire school—at least, Teresa thought so. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d never said anything to Bernie, and she knew now she could never do anything to let Penelope know she liked her. As it was, “I’ll have to confess to having impure thoughts.” Sister Marguerite was preparing the entire class for an upcoming visit from the bishop and Teresa was sure she couldn’t meet the bishop if she liked Penelope Jones—in that way. Even after the bishop’s visit was over, the prospect of facing confession every Saturday weighed on Teresa’s conscience. She knew she could never confess to anything unnatural, so, “better not to do it,” she reasoned.
Teresa pressed her hands to her eyes as she sat in bed now. It’s been twenty-five years and I’m still afraid of Sister Marguerite. Only it wasn’t Sister Marguerite, was it? I’m afraid of me. Afraid of the feelings Ellie was stirring within her, afraid of the way her heart raced any time Ellie crossed her mind, afraid of the physical urges she couldn’t seem to control lately. Ungodly or not, she knew she was setting herself on a dangerous path, and the thought was at once terrifying and exhilarating.
She listened intently. The house was at last quiet. She stole out of bed and opened her bedroom door quietly. It wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for her mother to hear her go down the hall in the night, but if she didn’t hear Teresa going back to bed, she’d get up to check. Silently, she crept down the stairs, arguing with herself the entire way.
It’s late. She’s in bed by now.
I know. But I need to speak with her.
If she wanted to talk to you, she’d have called.
She’s been working every night. When could she call?
Feeling as if she were being driven by something
she couldn’t control, Teresa went into the kitchen and picked the telephone off the hook. Her finger was trembling as she dialed the number she’d had memorized since Ellie gave it to her, hoping her mother wouldn’t hear the whirring of the dial as it rotated. Once the number was dialed, she took the receiver into the pantry and closed the door, being careful to thread the cord through the gap under the door. Trying to muffle sounds further, she cupped her hand around both her mouth and the mouthpiece. Her heart thundered in her ears as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Just as she was getting ready to hang up, she heard Ellie’s sleepy voice.
“Hello?”
“Ellie, it’s Teresa. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“It’s okay.” Ellie sounded more awake. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want to wake anyone here,” Teresa said. “I won’t keep you long. I just wondered if you have any free evenings coming up? Or any gaps in your weekend schedule? I know you’re busy with all the hours you’re working now—”
“I have Wednesday night off,” Ellie cut in. “I’m only working at the bank that day.”
Teresa was supposed to work until closing on Wednesday. “Wednesday would be great,” she said. “Can I come by your place about five?” She’d find a way somehow.
“Five. Do you want me to make some dinner here?”
“No,” Teresa said. “We can go out or order something in. You don’t need to cook your one night off.”
“Okay. See you then.”
“See you then.”
As quietly as she could, Teresa hung up the phone and stole back upstairs to bed. Her heart was still pounding, but not from fear now. Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she rolled over and looked at the jewel box. “Please like it,” she whispered.
“What is wrong with you?”
Ellie looked around at Suzanne. “What?”
“All afternoon you can’t sit still,” Suzanne said irritably. “You sit down and jump up. You’re all over the place. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Me, too,” called Linda from the drive-through window. “You’re worse than a five-year-old.”
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