Becoming Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  Seth was shoveling the name-brand treat into his mouth, pausing only to gulp down some orange juice. When he’d gone through half the bowl, his hunger seemed abated enough for him to take another look around. He did so and then asked, “So, what do you do?”

  “Me?” Temerity asked. She finished making the mocha and brought it over. She felt for the chair backs, and held out the mug in Seth’s direction. “Here,” she said. He reached out and took it, placing the hot drink carefully on the table, and then letting his fingers slide around the warm ceramic, relishing the heat as a treasure he could feel through the pads of his fingertips and palms. Temerity pulled out a chair and sat down across from Seth and Justice with her back to Ellen, but not blocking her view of either of them.

  “Both you,” Seth said through another full mouth of frosted-oat cereal and marshmallows.

  “Well, I am a musician, I play for the city symphony orchestra, and Justice is an anthropologist.”

  “A wha . . . ?” Seth’s eyes had gone round.

  Justice said, “An anthropologist is someone who studies humans, basically. Their behavior, like in society and stuff like that.”

  “Is there money in it?”

  Justice laughed. “Actually, yes, depending. Oh, by the way . . .” Justice leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Some guy was asking about a runaway boy yesterday, blond, about your age, I thought the kid might be a friend of yours.”

  Seth had tensed, but Justice was so casual, not even looking at Seth while he took an exaggerated sip of his coffee. Seth said, “No idea.”

  “Didn’t seem like the guy was too concerned anyway. He hadn’t even told the police or anything,” Justice said, giving a dismissive shrug of his own.

  Ellen saw Seth relax at that. “So, what do you want me to do?”

  Temerity said, “First things first. You have a bad cold.”

  A new coughing fit sent his face into the tissue again. “It’s no big deal,” Seth said thickly, and blew his nose again. Justice pushed the tissue box closer and Seth took a few more.

  “Maybe,” Temerity said. “I need you to go to the drugstore anyway, so you can pick up some cough syrup. I don’t want you to be out sick on your first day!”

  The boy dropped his eyes and stared at his dirty fingers. “I don’t have money for that, not right now,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Justice told him. “We’ll buy it for you. You know, a job with benefits.” He smiled and winked at the waif.

  Seth had started on the mocha. After a cautious sip, his eyes closed in delight, savoring the sweet, bracing heat, and he gulped at it eagerly. He held the mug’s warmth to his chest, just under his chin so that the scent would rise. Ellen liked that, though she doubted he could smell or even taste very much with all that congestion.

  Seth, now full of the hefty carbs that meant being sated for a few hours, looked around him more leisurely. “Who cleans this place up? It’s big, you got somebody to do that?”

  “Not really,” Temerity said. “We have a service that comes in once a month, but mostly we do it.”

  “You need somebody,” the boy stated this as a well-known fact. “I could do it.”

  “You clean?” Justice asked.

  “Sure,” the boy said with forced ease. “I had to clean my last place, it wasn’t this big, but I could do it.” His eyes roamed the big open room again. “Easy,” he added, and buried his face in his mug.

  Justice was watching Seth thoughtfully. “It’s certainly a possibility. We have a roommate who is a professional, maybe she could give you some pointers. Why don’t we start with the errands and go from there.” In the dark, Ellen smiled again. She was a professional, it sounded good.

  Seth immediately set down the mug and stood up. “I’m ready. I can go now.”

  Temerity laughed. “No rush. I still need to make a list. Tell you what, you need to use the restroom or anything?”

  “I could?” Seth asked, and for the first time, Ellen heard the defenselessness in his voice. She could guess how he was treated, sneaking into restaurants to use the facilities and being hustled out, refused admittance to anything but the most unmonitored of public restrooms. She wondered how long it had been since he’d had a hot shower or clean clothes.

  Justice stood up. “Right this way. I’ll show you. And there’s some towels and soap in there. I notice your hands look a little dirty, you can wash up if you want.” He moved nearer to Seth, intending to show him the way.

  “That’s okay,” Seth said quickly, backing a nervous step away from Justice. Ellen cringed for him. To have been abused . . . in that way . . . made it hard for Seth to even stand near a grown man he didn’t trust. And, she guessed, he trusted none.

  Identifying the fear, Justice reversed his motion, sat back down, and pointed toward Ellen and the door. “I’m sure you can find it yourself, just go through there and it’s the first door on the right. I have to go to work, so I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Seth.” Justice extended a hand.

  Seth stood a few feet away, looking at the outstretched arm. Then, biting his lip and watching Justice suspiciously for any sudden moves, he sidled forward, just close enough to touch the hand, shook quickly, and bolted for the far door.

  Ellen barely had time to get behind the door before it opened and Seth came through. She watched him from the shadows as he looked nervously around before creeping down the hallway, his head rotating from side to side, scanning for danger. Finding none, he opened the door to the bathroom, switched on the light, and scoped it out. Ellen watched his eyes spot the huge tub. His mouth dropped open, and then he emitted a long, low whistle. His face hopeful, but cautious, as if even this treat of a clean bathroom could not be trusted and might be snatched away, he went in. Ellen heard the door close and lock behind him.

  She went out.

  Justice was handing Temerity some cash. “Here, this is enough for the store, and forty bucks for Seth. Make sure he gets a receipt and tell him I’ll count the change. If we’re too trusting, he won’t trust us back. Hi, Ellen, did you hear?”

  She nodded. “I think you’re right,” she said quietly.

  Justice looked up at her, uncertain what aspect of his being right she might be referring to, but understanding came to him almost before his eyes settled on her.

  “I do, too,” he said sadly. “Which is why I’m vacating. See you guys later.” He started for the door.

  “Justice?” Temerity called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. I guess you’re an okay brother.” She smiled slyly. “But I still hate your coffee.”

  Justice pulled on a stocking cap to cover his damp hair and winked at Ellen. “That’s why I make it that way. Love you.” He went out.

  Ellen thought, Sibling relationships are complicated.

  “You want me to write the list?” Ellen asked Temerity as Justice went out.

  “I already did it,” Temerity said, pulling out a folded, printed sheet of paper. She was twitchy, turning to listen for Seth’s return. “Why can’t we just move him in with us?” she asked suddenly.

  “Because he won’t trust you, like Justice said, and he needs to be independent, I guess. And there’s, you know, laws and stuff.”

  Temerity did know. She nodded. “Okay, but I . . . it’s so awful for him.”

  Ellen smiled and actually reached out to pat Temerity’s shoulder to reassure her, not even realizing that it was the first time she had done so. “It will be better now. He’ll have food and some money. After tomorrow, he’ll hopefully have the medicine he needs, too.”

  “He sounds bad, doesn’t he?” Temerity asked. “How does he look?”

  “Gooey,” Ellen confirmed. “But the medicine today will help some. Let’s hope. Make sure you tell him that you need him tomorrow. I’ll try to find out what time t
onight.” Ellen was watching the door nervously now. It wouldn’t do to have Seth come back in while she was there. “I’m going to sleep now.”

  “Okay,” said Temerity. “I’m not.”

  Ellen smiled at that as she hurried back upstairs.

  • • •

  When she awoke, Ellen dressed quickly and went downstairs, where Temerity was waiting for her.

  “How did it go?” Ellen asked.

  Temerity sighed and said, “Good. I guess. I mean, I got a dose of medicine in him, and sent the rest with him. By the time he left, he wasn’t coughing so much.”

  There was a large saucepan steaming on the stovetop and Ellen enjoyed the savory scent of beef stew. She went over and looked in it.

  “Help yourself,” Temerity said, tracking Ellen’s movements with the direction of her head. “I tried to get Seth to eat some, but he couldn’t get out of here fast enough once he had that forty bucks in his hand.”

  Ellen got down a bowl and used the ladle propped on the spoon rest to fill it. “He wants to buy something specific,” she said, remembering the same situation in her own life. After years of having literally no personal possessions and no food options other than the bland dishes that were served at the group foster home, when she’d received her first paycheck she had headed straight to a grocery store to buy herself a treat she’d always wanted. Braving even the trauma of being seen by the pretty, young checker when she turned to give Ellen the perfunctory customer greeting. A greeting that had died in an openmouthed gawk of horror that changed into nervous glances at the bag boy as she tried to avoid looking at Ellen’s face, disfigured and drawn down on one side by the burn. The bag boy, apparently experiencing no such discomfort, had stared without embarrassment, as though he’d bought a ticket to a freak show and wanted his money’s worth. Ellen remembered that, and she remembered what it was she had wanted so badly. Fancy crackers and two kinds of cheese, just like she’d seen one of the group home supervisors have with wine every evening but never share. Ellen dismissed both memories and then she added to Temerity, “I mean, probably.”

  “Okay, so what about tomorrow?” Temerity asked. “By the way, there’s some good bread in the bin.”

  Ellen opened the wooden bread box and pulled out a heavy loaf of something brown with multicolored seeds. Nine months ago this would have frightened her, but she’d come to prefer the grainy bread over the white Wonder Bread that was all she’d ever been given. Though she missed the friendly, polka-dotted packaging, the healthier bread was more satisfying, once you learned to like it, and she had. Ellen cut herself a thick slice and dipped it in the rich beef broth. Then she carried the bowl to the table and sat down across from Temerity.

  “I’ll give you the address. What we have to do is send him with a note, and tell him to wait for a reply.” Ellen remembered this particular scenario in a paperback she’d read, and it seemed to suit the current situation.

  “What if he doesn’t want to stay?” Temerity asked.

  Ellen paused with the spoon in midair. “Then we’ll think of something else.”

  “All right, spill about the work drama.”

  Ellen took another big bite before she answered. “Well, the guy on the forklift was . . . uh, high.” The expression sounded alien to Ellen, who seldom used slang. “And I think that the dock manager sold him the drugs.”

  “Really? How do you know that?” Temerity asked.

  “I don’t know. But I think so, because I saw him get them from someone and I know where he’s hiding them.”

  “Where?” Temerity was almost breathless.

  “In a ceiling tile in the men’s bathroom.”

  Temerity sighed. “And how, may I ask, do you know that?”

  “I clean the men’s room,” Ellen said, chagrined. As an afterthought, she added, “It’s always pretty disgusting.”

  A spurting laugh erupted from Temerity. “I bet it is!” she said with a snicker. “And before you ask how I know that, let me just say that not being able to read the signs on restroom doors makes for some amusing moments.” She laughed again. “At least no one can accuse me of peeking! But what I meant was, what’s up with the smell in those men’s rooms?”

  Ellen grimaced but decided to go for it. “Not the toilet seat, that’s for sure,” she said, and her friend laughed harder.

  Then Temerity said, “So, this guy is selling drugs at work, we think, and someone got hurt because of it, possibly. Is there any other reasonable scenario or explanation?”

  Ellen thought about it. There was always another possibility, but in Eric’s case only one word came to mind.

  Guilty.

  17

  Temerity had a performance that night, and three more through the weekend, so she changed and went out the door with her violin. Since it was barely six o’clock, it was too early for Ellen to leave for work, but she had something else in mind.

  She dressed with slightly more care than usual, and went downstairs. She found a city map in a drawer in the kitchen, where she’d seen it months ago. She found the address she was looking for, made a note of the bus route, and put on her heavy coat. The temperature had been dropping all day, and as she stepped into the street, she thought, It smells like snow. Where she ever got the idea that you could smell snow, she didn’t know, but she liked it.

  The trip turned out to be easier than she had thought it would be. The long-term facility was in a rougher part of the city, not far from where Ellen used to live. The bus actually went past her old apartment building, and Ellen twisted in her seat, straining to look at it as she went past, but she could see nothing in the window of her old place except a dark blue curtain. Strange as it was to know that someone else was now living in that small one-room apartment, she was not displeased to see that they had hung curtains. It gave her a tremor of almost jealous pleasure to know that someone was caring for the little space. Her little hideaway before meeting Temerity and Justice.

  Five blocks on, she changed buses, and a short trip dropped her near the state facility. Ellen stood looking in. There was a security door on the building, but no guard or receptionist that Ellen could make out. Her guess was that not many visitors came here, and if they did, they would know whatever routine was required.

  But how would she get in? Giving this some thought, she circled the building. As she arrived back at the front, a van pulled up, on the side it said UNION LINEN. The driver got out and opened the back. Carrying a large canvas sack filled, no doubt, with his product, he pressed a button next to the door. A loud buzzer sounded almost immediately and the man opened the door, blocked it with the bag, and returned to the truck to get more.

  Ellen looked down at herself. She was dressed for work, and it happened that she had brought her work smock home to be washed. She quickly took it out, removed her jacket, and pulled it on. Then she slipped through the open door while the driver was in the back of the van. With any luck, if she was spotted, she’d be mistaken for a cleaner. Which, after all, she was.

  Inside, there was a hallway that branched off in three directions. Ellen veered quickly left, into the most neglected-looking of the three and found a storeroom marked JANITOR. It was unlocked, and she gathered a bucket and filled it with a few cleansers and rags. Over her shoulder, she saw the linen man go out carrying what she assumed were dirty linens, and then she heard the security door close with a clang.

  Ellen began to explore. She saw no security cameras. Near the front was a door marked OFFICE, the hours clearly stating nine to five, and it was after six, so it was closed and locked. Next to the door, hanging on a hook, was a clipboard, across the top of which was taped a printed notice that read PATIENT LIST.

  She was amazed that it was right out in the open until she realized that, unlike a normal hospital, a person would need an appointment to get in, except of course her. Ellen quickly ran a finger down the list until
she found Madeline Carson’s name, and next to it, the number 231.

  Ellen backtracked to a stairwell door near the janitor’s closet. She went up one flight and carefully pulled the door open.

  It wasn’t like a hospital. The rooms were smaller and there was no large nurses’ station, only another small room, marked STAFF, with, Ellen could see when she peeked inside, file cabinets and a desk. The hallway was cluttered with shelves of medical supplies, haphazardly stacked, which made it easy for Ellen to move along without having to be exposed for more than a few yards at a time. When two people dressed in scrubs passed her, Ellen turned her back and used a rag to wipe down one of the shelves. They didn’t even glance in her direction.

  It took her only a few minutes to find room 231, but what she had not expected was to find it filled with people. Ellen stepped back hastily to a cubby between stacked linens on the shelving and waited. The door was cracked open, and Ellen could hear voices from inside. Straining, she could make out the controlled calmness of Serena Hoffman, though the conversation itself was no more than a muted murmur.

  In a few moments, four people exited the room. Lydia was there, in the arms of the older man Ellen had seen at the dinner table with her, her tear-streaked face buried in his shoulder. The plump, gray-haired woman was there as well, and she kept one hand on Lydia’s back, massaging gently, her eyes red-rimmed, revealing that she, too, had been crying. At the end of the pack was Serena Hoffman.

  The social worker was speaking. “Lydia, sweetie, I need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Rush. Let’s go back to the little waiting room and you can look at a book, okay?”

  The child’s face was the definition of dumbstruck; that she couldn’t understand what was happening was so clear to Ellen. They started down the hall and Ellen leaned against the wall, peering at the party through a small space between the linens and the next shelf. As the grim procession passed, everyone kept their eyes either on the floor or straight-ahead.