Becoming Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  Just inside the dock doors that led to the sales floor, Ellen could see Squirt preparing to climb onto the large floor polisher. One of the dockworkers shouted at him, “Hey, buddy, need a leg up?” He and his friends laughed meanly. Squirt ignored him, but encouraged by the amusement, the worker shouted out again. “Hey, Squirt! They call you that because if you don’t have a step stool for the urinal you squirt all over the floor?”

  The small man froze, and turned. He said quietly, “My name is not Squirt. And just back off, Ed.”

  There was a low muttering from Ed’s buddies. Challenged, he moved forward with his chest thrust out and planted himself right in front of the smaller man, blocking his way to the machine. “Lighten up, munchkin, or I’ll send you back to Oz.”

  “Get out of my way,” the smaller man said, and stepped forward.

  But Ed didn’t move. Instead, he reached out and shoved Squirt, who lost his balance, then recovered and came back swinging.

  “Stop it! Right now!” The sharp voice belonged to Billy, the general manager. “Ed, gather your stuff and meet me in my office.”

  “What?” Ed shouted indignantly. “He tried to hit me.”

  “No, sir.” Billy was shaking his head. “I saw you push him and I heard you try to provoke him. That kind of physical intimidation is illegal, not to mention just plain mean. I have to fire you, and you know it. Get your stuff.”

  Ellen felt a little rustle and a rush of pleasure in her chest like the reverberation of a crowd cheering, and moved on. It was so seldom that the good guys won.

  Later that night, when her break usually took Ellen either back to the closet or to one of the restroom stalls to enjoy her coffee and snacks in private, she chose instead to pay another visit to the docks.

  As she passed through the produce section on her way there, she saw Thelma stacking an orange fruit that Ellen didn’t recognize. Slowing her step, Ellen watched Thelma for signs of her earlier outburst, but instead she saw only a determined focus on the woman’s face, and her lips were moving as though she might be singing. Ellen couldn’t hear anything because Squirt was coming near with the floor polisher. As he passed, he called out, “Evening, Thelma!”

  The produce manager stopped, turned, and shouted above the machine’s whirring brushes, “Hey, Johnson!” and the two slapped a high five as he passed her, his normally scowling, defensive face opening into a friendly grin during the fleeting exchange.

  Johnson. So that’s Squirt’s real name, Ellen thought. As she went on her way, she wondered at the difference that small amount of respect had made to the man, and it had cost Thelma nothing.

  The crated merchandise on the docks offered multiple nooks in which to lurk unseen during her break. Ellen found a spot in the shadow of some tall boxes with a clear vantage point to the edge of the truck-loading platform and set her coffee and notebook on one box and herself on a lower one.

  For a while, she drank her coffee and munched her snacks in relative peace, as there was nothing to see, but it wasn’t long before there was something to write. The distinct, earthy smell of marijuana came drifting to Ellen’s nostrils. Dutifully, she recorded the wafting misdemeanor.

  Ellen had never tried the drug, but the twins had. Justice had told her that “some restrictions apply.” Both marijuana and liquor, Justice had explained to Ellen, impaired the ability to operate any kind of machinery, so driving under the influence of either was taboo. Temerity said that was fine by her, as her ability to drive was somewhat impaired anyway, due to the fact that she couldn’t read the road signs, or find the car.

  So when Ellen saw Eric and Daniel emerge from the men’s restroom looking distinctly red-eyed, she wondered if it was a good idea when Daniel climbed onto a forklift.

  Eric stood with his back to the dock office door, counting out some bills. He stuffed them in his pocket, then went in.

  Just as Ellen was putting her notebook away to return to work, she heard a shout and looked up. On the forklift, Daniel had miscalculated. Instead of inserting the teeth of the lift into the flat beneath a huge box marked KETCHUP, 50 ONE-GALLON SIZE, he came in too high and punctured the box. There was a crunch, a spurt, and the smell of sweetened tomato sauce wafted across the open space. It made Ellen want a hot dog.

  Alerted by the sound of the impact to a loss of inventory, Eric came out of the office and stood with one hand on his hip as he stroked his blond hair nervously with the other. Ellen wrote down the incident, included the time, packed up her notebook and pen, and went back to finish her shift, after she microwaved a wiener.

  • • •

  Ellen rode home on the bus with her fingers clenched on the back of the seat ahead of her, watching with suspicion every passenger who boarded, but the ride was uneventful, and she allowed herself a deep sigh of relief when she reached her stop.

  Once she was on her way down the deserted sidewalk to the alley that led to the loft’s door, Ellen’s thoughts returned to Eric and his behavior. It had nothing to do with her, of course, and a few months ago she would have noted it in one of her books, been diverted by the “snapshot,” and forgotten it. But now . . .

  The problem, of course, was that Ellen wasn’t a tattletale. First of all, being invisible required that she never, ever draw attention to herself. Second, revealing anyone’s bad behavior would have been suicide in her unprotected childhood world if she had ever been able to stand up in front of “authority” and speak the truth.

  But she couldn’t. Authority hadn’t been reliable or even very fair, and it definitely had never offered her protection from the very things and people she might have ratted out. Her life worked best when she went unnoticed. Nonetheless, it made Ellen squirm to think that doing a dangerous job on drugs could seriously hurt someone.

  Still, facing or calling on authority was not in the game plan. Though Ellen knew she had made decisions, had acted on things that had changed her life and, on reflection, others’ lives as well, they had been last-second decisions, spontaneous and unplanned. Fate. And Ellen knew that without Temerity, those split-second instincts would have been the beginning and the end of her involvement. That was just the way it was for her.

  Yet, she thought as she turned the key in the huge door and went to check the mailbox, maybe there’s another way.

  A different way.

  4

  When Ellen reached the fourth-floor landing, Temerity was coming out of the apartment with Runt on a leash. Overcome with enthusiasm, as usual, the dog panted and barked. It began with a throaty growl then rose to a shrill high note on the end. The sharp sound echoed painfully in the stairwell.

  “Runt, hush! Hi, Ellen,” Temerity said. “I’m taking Runt out to the dog park, want to come? We could pick up some muffins at Tami’s and eat them there.”

  Ellen considered the stairs, thought about the oversize muffins Temerity often brought home from the organic bakery on the corner, and her mouth watered. As much as Ellen had enjoyed the cellophane-wrapped cousins of those muffins over the years, when Temerity had brought her a freshly baked one, still warm, it had been a food revelation.

  It was chilly out this morning, with a gray sky and air roiling with mist, and the thought of a scalding-hot cup of coffee and a muffin straight from the oven was irresistible. Plus, she didn’t like Temerity to take Runt out alone, he was not the brightest of his species. Temerity liked to say that if he was a child, he would be in remedial math.

  “Sure, let me set my bag inside.” Ellen did so, left the mail on the table, and then came back out, closing the door behind her. “Where’s Justice?” He was usually the one who took Runt for his daily constitutionals.

  Temerity made a huffing noise. “Didn’t come home. Again. He left me a message asking me to do his doggy duty.” The palm side of a long-fingered hand shot out toward Ellen’s face. “I know. I set you up. Don’t even go there.”

  El
len asked, “Dr. Amanda?”

  “The one, the only, Dr. Amanda!” Temerity said, though it seemed to Ellen that there was a shiver of dislike or . . . no, that wasn’t it . . . more like annoyance in the flippant comment. Temerity unfolded her white, red-tipped stick, took it in one hand and the leash firmly in the other. “Please don’t kill me,” she said to Runt as they started down the stairs.

  On the second-floor landing, a young man was going into the apartment. He was holding a stack of mail and wearing only pajama bottoms and slide-on slippers. He was tall, and his face had an intelligent look about it, the kind that really took in the world around him. So few people lived in this building that Ellen had seldom encountered anyone on these stairs, and to judge from the way this person half hid himself behind the door, he hadn’t expected to meet anyone, either. Ellen slipped in behind Temerity but peered curiously at the man’s face as he turned to regard the trio. Runt, sensing a stranger, broke into a frenzy of barking. “Hush, Runt!” Temerity called above the din as the man said at the same time, “Settle down, boy.”

  Temerity tilted her head to listen, and shushed Runt again, who looked up at her, then settled into an enthusiastic panting. Temerity called out, “Sorry! He’s a very gregarious puppy. Just likes to hear himself.”

  “I’ve got a brother like that. See you, Runt.” The man smiled at her. “Sorry for my state of undress. Didn’t know anyone would be coming down.”

  Temerity waved a hand. “Oh please, wander around naked, it makes no difference to me.”

  “Well . . . that’s sort of disappointing.” The deep voice was riddled with humor. “Thanks for the invitation, though.” He closed the door, his eyes tracking Temerity as she turned away with a grin of approval.

  Temerity patted Runt’s head and sniffed. “I like his scent,” she said. “Like fresh pine and . . . something spicy . . . black pepper, that’s it.” Ellen smiled. Temerity had told her that everyone had a unique smell, which, to her, was as distinct as a face was to someone who could see.

  They got to the street and walked along together for a few minutes, with frequent stops as Runt paused to pee on each and every lamppost he encountered, while Ellen thought about what could be tainting Temerity’s mood. Ellen was still confused by her friend’s earlier sarcasm about Amanda; it gave her the constant sensation of a missed step. Finally, she said softly, “I thought you liked her.”

  “Who?” Temerity turned her pretty face halfway to Ellen, indicating that she was listening.

  “Dr. Amanda.”

  Temerity looked surprised. “I do. She’s great, smart, funny, devoted to helping people, and she’s crazy about Justice. I couldn’t really ask for more.” She sighed quietly and added under her breath, “For him.” Then, as the sound of a bus approached from behind them, she took a firmer grip on the leash. Runt was well known for his fanatical pursuit of buses. Somewhere in his shallow canine brain those big, noisy, rolling boxes needed to be captured and brought down a notch or two. Conversely, he was afraid of squirrels. He growled and bristled as the bus passed, but Temerity kept a firm pressure on the leash and intoned to him hypnotically, “Don’t do it. Don’t look at it. Don’t chase it. Don’t try to bite it.”

  Runt turned a hopeful face up to his human and made a noise like squeaky brakes as the bus went past. Ellen translated this noise as Then can I just lick it?

  They resumed their stroll. “So . . .” Ellen faltered. She was lost again, unable to translate into something coherent this foreign language called human relations. Temerity had said she liked Amanda. Ellen liked Amanda, too. The young doctor had overseen her recovery from surgery, after calling in favors to get the surgery done in the first place.

  “So . . . what?” Temerity asked after a few seconds.

  “Uhm . . . Why don’t you seem happy? I mean, about her.”

  They had reached the crosswalk and Temerity felt for the crossing signal. When it cleared for them, the flashing WALK sign was accompanied by a tweeting beep—not unlike birdsong, but too uniform—that meant go to the visually impaired in the neighborhood. Temerity still paused to listen carefully that the traffic had stopped in both directions before she started out into the street.

  Temerity’s brow had furrowed and her lips tightened a little as they crossed. She didn’t speak until they got to the bakery, where she handed over the leash and told Ellen she’d be right back. “The usual?” she asked brightly.

  “Yes, please,” Ellen answered softly, glancing self-consciously at the other pedestrians, though no one paid the least amount of attention to her, as usual. She whispered, “And a coffee with—”

  “Extra cream,” Temerity finished for her, barely mouthing the words. Then she leaned over to pet Runt’s head and muttered out of the side of her mouth to Ellen, “Sorry, I didn’t see that you were invisible today.” She giggled.

  Ellen shifted her feet. She told Temerity, “It’s been kind of a weird week.”

  Temerity shook her head. She whispered to Ellen, “I know. Sorry. Sometimes I don’t see the forest for the trees.” She barked out a laugh and went in to be enveloped in the sweet scent of baking, while Ellen waited outside, envious, but also grateful that her friend had the courage to go where she did not.

  To avoid the increasing stream of pedestrians going to work, Ellen led Runt down the side of the bakery and stood against the brick wall. A window, the glass of which was opaque and laced with wire, was partially open, and through the small space wafted the smell of contentment. Standing on her toes, Ellen could see into the kitchen. The gleaming stainless-steel work surfaces were scattered with flour and dough, and two bakers, both plump and dressed loosely in white, worked with silent satisfaction. A small radio played jazz piano. It was a stark, yet beautiful, paradise.

  Ellen was so enthralled by the surfeit of intriguing scents and sights overwhelming her senses that she forgot to watch for Temerity. Looking up quickly, she saw her friend turning in a slow circle and whispering to thin air. Ellen hurried back to her and took the paper bag—emanating wisps of that specific dreamland—and one of the cups of coffee so that Temerity could work her stick. They walked the remaining three blocks to the dog park and let Runt off his leash. He gamboled off to investigate the other two dogs. When one greeted him with a playful bounce, Runt took off like a shot for the far side of the run.

  The two women sat next to each other on their usual bench and wrapped their scarves tightly up around their necks while they sipped the coffee and ate the muffins. Temerity tore her food into bite-size pieces and placed the measured portions into her mouth. It was really quite graceful, which was the opposite of what Ellen had imagined it would be like to watch a blind person eat.

  Temerity said suddenly, “I suppose it’s because I know things will change.”

  Ellen looked around. But except for a couple of other dog owners on the far side of the park, they were alone in the misty a.m. “Wh-what?” she stuttered.

  “Amanda and Justice. I suppose I am sort of sad—even though I’m really happy for him—because, you know, it won’t be us anymore.” She hummed as she placed another morsel of muffin in her bow-shaped mouth. “Selfish, I know.”

  But Ellen didn’t know. She’d never had a sibling, much less a twin, or even a parent, so it was impossible for her to find a comparison. “But what about you?” Ellen asked, suddenly fearful. “What if you find somebody else?”

  Temerity frowned. “Oh, I don’t think there’s much fear of that,” she said. “Not a huge market for blind chicks.”

  Ellen twisted to try to relieve the tightness in her torso. “Have you ever, uh, you know, had a boyfriend?” Her face flushed hot.

  To Ellen’s amazement, Temerity wrinkled her nose. “I’ve dated. But the only guy I felt serious about . . .” She hesitated. “Well, let’s just say it didn’t work out.”

  “Why not?” Ellen couldn’t stop herself. The tho
ught of Temerity moving on and not being around anymore opened a rent from the base of her throat to her midchest.

  “He was fooling around, right in front of my useless eyes,” Temerity answered quietly.

  Ellen shifted, sliding an inch closer to her friend.

  “It sucked,” Temerity continued. “But Justice would have to be blinder than me not to see that Amanda’s worth keeping!”

  “Oh,” Ellen said. A sense of churning, open space came into existence below her but she didn’t want to look down because she was afraid of what might be there. “Is Justice leaving?” Her throat had suddenly constricted and the last word came out in a breathy wheeze.

  Temerity threw her head back and laughed with her whole body. “God, I hope so!” she half shouted. Then, before Ellen could find her balance, Temerity wrapped an arm around Ellen’s thickly jacketed shoulders and said, “Look, it’s normal, natural, for him to find someone and get his own life. That’s what he’s supposed to do. That’s all good. It’s just that, I suppose it doesn’t make it any easier to let go, because . . . well, I’m jealous, if you want me to go ahead and expose my most sordid thoughts. God, listen to me. Pathetic. Who knows? Right?” She stood up. “Maybe Mr. Right is out there somewhere.” She took three steps and called out loudly, “Prince Charming? Charming? Yo! P.C., I’m waiting!” She sighed and turned back to Ellen. “I don’t hear any hoofbeats.” She cocked an ear as if listening. Across the park, Runt, unable to distinguish canine from equine, perked up his ears. “I’m just not holding my breath.”

  “Me neither,” Ellen said. “I hear it causes brain damage,” she joked.

  Temerity snorted. “So do relationships, so breathe away!” She sat back down.

  Relaxing back, Ellen looked up at the depthless sky and just let herself fall up into it, relishing the unavoidable cold. She liked the gray morning, the dogs chasing one another, the warm cup in her hand, and Temerity’s laugh. Most of all, she loved Temerity’s laugh. It was the one fearless thing she knew.