Irena had filled out and the dark circles under her eyes had faded, but the changes weren’t just physical. She no longer stooped and scurried, mouselike, in terror from place to place. Ellen remembered coming in on Irena and their then boss in this very room almost a year ago, when the boss had been attempting to molest the terrified woman. Ellen had enjoyed anonymously putting a stop to that. She had been happier still when Irena’s murderous husband had gotten what was coming to him.
Ellen braced herself and said softly, “Irena?”
Irena jumped and turned toward the corner where Ellen was standing behind her cart. “Oh, Ellen, you startle me.” The woman’s use of English was growing more solid, but the finer points were still slippery.
“Sorry, uh, I have a favor to ask you.”
Irena smiled at her. “Your face, it is good, almost healed completely. Only, a bit red, but good.”
“Uh, thanks.” Ellen had no idea how to react to a positive remark about her physical appearance, as up until now they had been uniformly hurtful. “Listen, would it be all right with you if I took the dock restrooms tonight? You can spend an hour in produce instead.”
The eyebrows above the high cheekbones went up. “You . . . want to clean there?” Irena’s nose wrinkled. “Okay by me.”
“Thanks.” Ellen started to push her cart away and then felt that she should make some sort of reference to their frightening, shared experience months before. “Uh, how’s, uh, the baby? Do you ever see him?”
Irena shook her head but smiled broadly. “No, but Susan, she send me pictures sometimes. Ivan is big and has six teeth now! A very healthy boy.”
Ellen thought about the sickly child that had been dumped on Irena, while his cruel father ran off with another woman. It was good to hear that the child was healthy now and safe with his adoptive mother. “Oh, that’s . . . uh, good.”
“And your friends, they are well?” Irena asked.
“Very well, thank you. I’ll tell them you asked.”
“Yes please, thank you.” Irena’s Russian accent still rumbled her consonants heavily in the back of her throat.
“Well . . . bye.” Ellen scooted out as quickly as she could, searching her pockets for a stashed chocolate Power bar, which she ate to restock the nervous calories it had cost her to interact. The carbs took effect almost immediately, settling her quivering anxiety and smoothing her jitters with their fluffy-stuffing comfort.
She made her way to the docks and found a safe, dark corner to wait in until the shift changed and she could get to work. At 10:02, she’d been watching the restroom doors for so long that she knew it was safe to go in the men’s room, which she chose first.
She put out her BATHROOM CLOSED sign and went in. Normally, she propped her cart in the doorway of the restrooms to discourage any attempted entry, but tonight she took it all the way in and shut the door behind her, then pushed the cart up against it. She pulled the stepladder off the top, where she had precariously balanced it, and set it up below the automatic scent dispenser. In a few minutes, she had replaced the contents and snapped the cover back on. Then she climbed back down to the reassuringly flat floor and went on to clean the rest of the room.
It was amazing how disgusting thirty or so workers could make a bathroom in a day or two, but Ellen worked diligently and soon the smell of pine cleanser was sharper in her nostrils than urine. She mopped her way out after checking that the space outside was clear, did a quick cleanup in the women’s room, and was pouring the mop water down the sink when she heard the scream.
It was followed by shouting. Ellen left the bucket on the floor and went to look out the door. At first she couldn’t see anything but crates, but she moved cautiously forward until she had a view of the commotion.
It was bad. One of the dockworkers, who had been wearing a headset, she noticed, had been hit by a forklift. The lower part of his leg jutted at a strange angle from below the knee, and he was grimacing in pain and clutching at his thigh. “Don’t touch my leg!” he screamed as Thelma dropped to her knees next to him.
“I won’t, don’t worry, Bruno,” she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder instead. “Somebody call 911,” she called out. All around them, people were either moving eagerly forward to see the drama or standing stupidly and doing nothing. Picking a face out of the crowd, Thelma barked sharply, “Eduardo, 911, do it now!” Eduardo peeled away and ran for the office.
Eric was there, too. He leaned down over the injured man and said, “Okay, buddy, just lie still. You’ll be okay.”
“‘Okay’?” Bruno opened his mouth in a silent scream that muted him temporarily. When he could breathe again he said, “I am not okay. Christ.” He grimaced again and whimpered, dropping his head forward and baring his teeth against the pain. “What the . . . ?! That hopped-up idiot ran right into me!” The man gasped between clenched teeth. “How could he not see me? Ahhhh!” He let his head fall back.
Ellen looked at the forklift. No one was in the driver’s seat, but standing next to it, twitching, was Daniel. As she watched, Ellen noticed Eric checking to make sure no one was watching him, then he jerked a thumb toward the open edge of the dock. Daniel nodded fearfully, slipped backward, step by step, and then bolted down the stairs and into the darkness.
The Crows arrived, elbowing their way to the front of the crowd. Rosa and Kiki looked thrilled as they took in the carnage, memorizing details for future use. Ellen knew that a few minutes of listening to them throughout the night would keep her up-to-date on any of the ensuing details.
While everyone was distracted, Ellen retrieved her cart and escaped to the main floor. She went to the produce section and began to clean out the emptied bins with a ferocious energy. Something was driving her to stay busy, to scrub and focus here, only here. Her busyness was fueled by the need to avoid a prickling, stinging feeling. She did not hear the ambulance arrive, or see the injured man taken away. She did not know who was questioned or blamed, she did not listen to the other workers whispering or exclaiming openly about the “accident.” She didn’t want to, not yet.
She felt that she’d been stung by a wasp on the inside and the insect was still buzzing furiously in her chest, searching for more tender tissue to assault. Only if she kept busy could Ellen avoid the inevitability of it landing and piercing her again and again with its stinger. But she couldn’t. All her well-trained practice in not feeling, in pushing aside the nagging awfulness, was not working. This was something different than the hurt that had happened to her in the past.
The Crows came back and headed into the wine section, their heads close together, talking fast. Ellen followed them down the parallel aisle to listen.
“Snapped the leg, twisted it almost all the way around,” Rosa was saying. “Bruno was lucky he wasn’t crushed.”
“And Daniel just ran off, and you know why!” Kiki was almost ecstatic with the adrenaline rush of insider information. Ellen watched them through the cases of wine.
Rosa gasped and put a hand to her chest. “You mean he did it on purpose?”
Kiki shook her head, pursing her mouth into a prissy little pout. “No, but he’s always on something. Can’t you tell? If you listen to him talk for two minutes, you will. Why he hasn’t been fired, I don’t know.”
“I do!” Rosa’s brown eyes were huge and sparking as if static electricity was being repeatedly discharged. “I told you that I caught Eric giving Daniel a package and taking money from him one day! When Eric saw me watching, he said Daniel was returning money he’d lent him and told me to mind my own business. Then he made a point of mentioning that my nephew’s son, Jimmy, works for him. Like a threat!”
Kiki nodded. “Maybe you should tell Billy. I heard him talking to the police. They said that Daniel will be in trouble for fleeing from the scene of an accident.” The tall, sharp-faced woman seemed pleased with her assessment.
“Hit-and-run,” Rosa agreed. “And with a forklift! Those things scare me. They weigh tons! I don’t even like to go out on the dock, and when they come in here, I stand clear.”
“Well, you’ve got some sense. Those guys out there are always trying to prove how macho they are.” Kiki huffed.
Rosa and Kiki looked at each other knowingly, then at the same time they both said, “Men!”
The two women cackled, and then went back to whispering, but Ellen could hear no more as they moved to the far side of the aisle.
It was a full hour later, as Ellen paused to wipe the sweat from her brow and straighten her aching back, when she finally recognized the sensation she had been feeling. With a searing hot slap of shame, she called it by name. Guilt. She could have prevented the pain that man Bruno was feeling. The pain he would most likely suffer for the rest of his life had been caused by someone whom Ellen had known was incapable of being safe. More, she knew why he’d been in that state and who was responsible. If Ellen was someone different, if she was a person with the ability and the courage to speak up, the accident would not have happened.
For the first time that she knew of, Ellen understood what it was like to feel guilty for not doing something.
But what else could she do? It just wasn’t possible for her to be other than she was. She thought about this long and hard as she threw herself back into her work. If Eric was selling drugs to the other workers and encouraging them to use them, something like this, or worse, was certain to happen again. The thought made her feel frayed all the way down her spine. She did not have the courage it took to speak up, and she knew it. But, she reminded herself, she had other . . . talents, as Justice put it, and in that moment of recognition, she decided that she would make up for her failings. Ellen was an observer. She would catch Eric at his own game, and, like Temerity had said, he would never see her coming.
That she could do as well as anyone else.
16
Though Ellen was exhausted when she arrived home at seven a.m., she knew that Seth was supposed to come over at eight, and the appearance of the uncle had increased her interest and concern. So she had a cup of Justice’s thick coffee, with a healthy dollop of heavy cream and two teaspoons of sugar to mute the taste. Considering the nervy tension from the night, she added a spray of whipped cream on top. Just watching the dense white foam as it whooshed out of the can calmed her.
She made herself breakfast, peanut butter toast with bacon, and watched Temerity fuss about. Justice came out, dressed, but his hair still wet from the shower, and asked, “Is he here?”
“Do you see him?” Temerity asked.
“No. Do you?” he responded testily.
“Maybe that’s because he’s not here yet. Obviously,” she shot back.
Ellen realized they were both feeling nervous and she intervened. “It’s not eight yet.” It didn’t work.
Justice said to his sister, “Oh, and you are Queen of the Obvious.”
“Better than being King of the Oblivious,” she retorted.
Ellen moved to the big windows and looked down at the street, letting the nervous tension blend away behind her. She didn’t really expect to see Seth, but it always calmed her to watch from above.
“Someone got hurt at work last night,” Ellen interjected into the stream of quarreling.
That stopped them. “Who?”
“A guy on the docks, he was hit by a forklift and it broke his leg. Badly.”
“Ouch!” Justice exclaimed. “Is he okay?”
But at that moment, the buzzer sounded. Temerity jumped and then crossed the floor to the phone. “Yes? Oh, good morning. Come on up to the fourth floor, it’s the only door. I’ll open it now.” She hung up. “It’s him,” she said, sounding excited and nervous.
“Okay,” Justice told her. “Just play it cool, like we practiced.”
Ellen was already at the hallway door and didn’t hear the reply. She hurried up the narrow stairs and reached for her notebook, and then thought she’d better wait or she’d miss the meeting downstairs.
Turning around, she crept back down and positioned herself just at the end of the hallway inside the door, opening it a crack so that she could see and hear what was going on in the big open space beyond.
“Hi, come on in! My name is Temerity, and this is my brother, Justice.”
“Actually, we’ve met,” Justice said, affecting surprise. “Hi. Seth, right?”
Ellen couldn’t hear the mumbled reply, which was lost under a rolling cough. Switching off the hall light, she opened the door a few inches more and sat down on the floor. From this angle she could see straight to the table area, where Temerity had put out juice, milk, cereal, and some pastries.
“Are you hungry? Help yourself. Would you like some hot chocolate or tea?” Temerity moved into the kitchen area. Seth’s eyes tracked her like she was a windup toy and he was figuring out how she worked.
“Do you have coffee?” asked Seth, moving toward the table but keeping his distance from both of them. Ellen was reminded of a stray cat, curious and wanting, but too wary to approach. “Black,” he added, still studying Temerity with fascination.
“Yeah, I don’t know if you want to do that. My brother’s coffee is pretty much a punch in the gut. How about if I mix in some hot chocolate? I love a mocha, don’t you?”
Ellen saw the boy’s face relax slightly. “Sure,” he said. His eyes continually flicked to the goodies on the table. Justice was standing a few feet behind Seth and he stepped up next to him to take a bear claw. The boy feinted and slid away, around the other side of the table. He’s as fast as an alley cat, Ellen thought. Justice pretended not to notice the reaction, just took a bite of the pastry and sat down, gesturing for Seth to join him. The boy reached for a donut, took a huge bite, and chewed with purpose.
“Sit down,” Temerity said. “Let’s discuss terms. You available to run some errands today?”
“Sure,” Seth said, sitting, but leaving an empty chair between himself and Justice.
“Good. I was thinking maybe ten dollars an hour? Would that be all right?”
“Eleven would be better,” Seth said, almost automatically, and Ellen recognized the bargaining skill of someone who lived dollar to dollar. The boy began to cough again and Justice handed him a paper napkin. Seth blew his nose, a fruitful sound. His nostrils and upper lip were red and raw. Justice leaned behind him to a shelf under the bar and grabbed a box of tissues.
“Here, put a bunch of these in your pocket, they’re the lotion kind. Easier on the nose. So, Seth, you live around here, I assume, because I’ve seen you in the neighborhood.”
“Are you in school?” Temerity asked.
Seth squirmed in his seat a bit, he was almost painfully thin, and though he hadn’t taken off his jacket, he shivered slightly. “I’m on break right now.”
“In winter?” Temerity asked.
“Yeah. Split schedule. I go in summer.”
“That’s right, public school is year-round now,” Justice commented. His voice had a slight warning tone directed at Temerity. She must have picked up on it, because she didn’t ask any more questions about school.
“This won’t be an everyday thing, probably about three times a week for . . . say, three or four hours. Can you do that?” she asked him instead, opening a cabinet. She found a round box and let her fingers run down the tape to identify it, though Ellen could read the powdered hot chocolate brand name from where she sat.
“Yeah, okay.” Seth was still considering Temerity with his runny but sharp eyes. “You’re blind, right?” he asked bluntly and without embarrassment. “Is that why you need somebody to get your stuff?”
Temerity paused, and Ellen knew that her friend was fighting the impulse to declare her independence, but practicality won over and she said, “Only my eyes. But you’re right, sometimes it’
s easier, especially when I’m busy.”
Now Seth’s eyes played around the huge apartment. It was far less cluttered than most homes. Part of this was because of the size and open floor plan, but in fact, the lack of decorative furniture or knickknacks made it much easier for Temerity to negotiate, and were without value to her anyway. Justice seemed to like the sparse, open atmosphere, and Ellen, never a hoarder of things, preferred it as well. But Seth took in the comfortable sofa and chairs, the big-screen TV, the view through the huge windows, and a sort of hungry deficit showed in his expression.
“Nice place,” he said. “Must cost a lot.”
“Well, it’s not free, but we actually own it,” Temerity told him. “We had grandparents who ran their own grocery store, then sold out to a big chain. So when they passed away, Justice and I inherited some money. Not a fortune, but enough to buy this place and fix it up. It used to be a garment factory. It was a real mess at first. You like it?”
“Sure. Except most people have, you know, stuff on the walls.”
“Most people have vision,” Temerity said lightly. “But maybe we should. If only for the sake of my more discerning guests, like yourself. Now, some sculpture, that I could appreciate. Do you like art, Seth?”
The boy shrugged and then realized that was inadequate. He said, “Don’t know anything about it. I like the big pictures in the library on Grant, the ones of the ships.”
“Oh, those are great,” Justice said. “Tall ships.”
“I don’t know how tall they are, but I like the sails,” Seth admitted.
“They are called ‘tall ships,’” Justice explained. “Have you ever seen one? I mean, in real life?”
Another shrug. “Never been to the ocean.”
“Well, then it’s something to look forward to,” Justice said. “Cereal?” he asked, casually pouring Lucky Charms into a bowl. Ellen felt a smile cuddle up into her cheeks. Justice had bought the cereal for Seth. She’d never seen Justice eat sugary breakfast cereal in all the months she’d lived there. He added milk and set the bowl in front of the boy without waiting for an answer. Then he served up a small portion for himself and took a tentative bite.
Becoming Ellen Page 14