Becoming Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  Knowing Rupert, Ellen wasn’t so sure about that.

  “What do you want him to do?” she asked Temerity.

  Temerity finished off her toast and wiped the crumbs from her hands. “Oh, just make a phone call. By the way, Beth is going to stop by later to check on Seth, probably around four thirty. She said she and Thelma are going to the Museum of Modern Art this afternoon and they’ll come by after. You going to be sleeping?”

  “I might be up by then,” Ellen said. “Who’s watching Seth today?”

  Temerity raised a hand. “I am. Nothing gets by me, as you know.”

  Ellen smiled, but she was a little worried. Even the simple trip to the restroom had been tricky. “What about the, you know, IV and stuff?”

  “Oh, Amanda unhooked that last night. I mean, he still has it in his arm, but it’s not connected to anything right now. Beth’s going to give him another antibiotic dose when she comes later. So he can move around for now, even take a shower if we put plastic over it.”

  As though on cue, the door to the hallway opened and Seth stuck his head out. He scanned around the loft and spotted the two women at the table.

  Temerity had turned to the sound. “Good morning, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

  A rolling cough answered her, but though it was fruity, it didn’t sound as bad as yesterday. “Better,” Seth said when he could. “What happened to, uh, that guy?”

  “Justice? He went to work,” Temerity said. “You want breakfast?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “And then, maybe a shower,” Temerity said. “Beth gave me this long plastic-glove thingy and a rubber band so you can wash. Sound good?”

  “Could I . . .” Seth’s eyes roamed around on the floor, “maybe . . . take a bath instead?”

  Ellen smiled. She hadn’t been able to resist her huge tub either when she’d first come here.

  “I don’t see why not. Get it?” Temerity laughed, then explained, “It’s funny because I can’t see.” Seth looked confused, which Temerity couldn’t see. “Hey, Ellen, weren’t you just going to make some bacon?”

  Seth’s eyes widened and he proceeded into the room, followed closely by Runt, who had decided having a kid in the house to pet him all day was the Best. Thing. Ever. Seth was wearing Justice’s pajama pants and one of his T-shirts. The pants were rolled up at the bottom but still dragging on the floor at his heels. The T-shirt fell past his thighs, and one thin shoulder was escaping through the neck opening.

  Ellen fried a whole pack of bacon and scrambled six eggs. She took only three pieces of bacon, plus one for Mouse, and a small portion of eggs for herself. The rest she piled onto a plate with toast that Temerity had made and put it in front of Seth. He ate ravenously, occasionally slipping a treat to Runt, who stayed reverently at his side. “Your appetite is coming back, I see,” Temerity said. When Seth raised his head to stare at her after this comment, he found Temerity was pointing to her ear. “You know, you can close your mouth when you chew.”

  “Mmm, sorry,” Seth said, and went back to his meal, taking pains to be more quiet, but he couldn’t breathe through his nose with his mouth closed.

  Temerity stood up. “Okay, let me know when you’re done. I’ll show you how to work the tub and where the towels are. Then you can watch TV or read, whatever you want, so long as you stay horizontal. Double doctors’ orders! I have to make a phone call. Be right back.” Taking her mug, Temerity crossed the room and went into the hall.

  Seth watched her go and then turned to Ellen. “How does she do that?”

  “Do what?” Ellen asked.

  “Walk around like she can see?”

  Ellen considered this. “She knows the place really well. It’s important not to leave anything lying around. Runt’s bad enough, but usually he pants and she can hear him. If she has her stick, she can tell there’s something in her path, but she doesn’t use it in the house.”

  “It’s so cool,” Seth said quietly. “What’s wrong with her eyes?”

  It had never occurred to Ellen to ask, as she would have considered it an invasion of Temerity’s privacy. “She was born that way. I think that’s why she’s so comfortable with it. It’s all she’s ever known.”

  “Yeah.” Seth looked down at his plate. “People can get used to all kinds of bad stuff.” He yawned, triggering Ellen to do the same.

  “I have to get some sleep,” Ellen told him. “I just got home from work. You okay?”

  Seth shrugged, gestured around him at the expansive loft, and patted his full stomach. “Way better than yesterday.” He grinned at her, but immediately a kind of fear spasm flashed across his face before he could stop it. Ellen knew that look.

  She sat back and didn’t look at him as she spoke. “You know, they won’t make you go back to . . . wherever you were, if you’re afraid. I’m not sure how they’ll help you yet. But I know they will. You might have to help them though.”

  Seth looked at her suspiciously, and Ellen was willing to bet he’d been promised safety before that didn’t come. Possibly from the very uncle he was desperate to escape now. “What would they want me to do?” he asked, the distrust apparent in his voice.

  Ellen considered this. “When I was in foster care, there were some kids who had to testify against their families when they were in danger. Could you do that?”

  Seth’s pupils had dilated in fear. “I . . . no,” he muttered.

  Ellen sighed. “I couldn’t either,” she admitted. People without a conscience or scruples had controlled Seth’s life up to this point. It was those kinds of people who had caused Ellen to start recording life’s little misdemeanors, and much worse, in her notebooks, because she’d had no one else to tell. “I think,” she said very carefully, “that if you told the truth about why you’re here, to the right person, they could help you.”

  Seth was shaking his head violently. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “I know,” Ellen almost whispered. “I don’t blame you. There are so many things in my life that were so bad, I don’t even remember them, and I’ve never told anybody.” She steadied herself. “So I’m not going to tell you to do what I can’t. But you know what? If I’d had a friend like Temerity back then, maybe I would have told her, and my life would have been really different.” Ellen sighed again. Seth was staring at her with hopeful confusion. Ellen realized that he was trying to believe she might actually understand.

  “Listen,” she said, trying to take the pressure off him, “you don’t have to do anything right now. Just rest, okay?” She tried to think of something to occupy him. She would have chosen to read. “You want a book, or something?”

  “I wish I had a comic book.”

  Ellen remembered that Amanda had given Justice a collection of some comics for Christmas. It was in a big box on the long bookshelf under the windows. She went and got it, then set it on the table next to him. It was big: three leather-bound volumes nestled together in their own box. Seth squinted at it. “That’s not a comic book.”

  “I know. It’s a collection of comics. You can look at it, if you want.”

  Seth slid one of the volumes out of the linen-covered box and opened it to the first glossy page. He ran his hand over it like it was treasure, reading eagerly. A smile crossed his face, and he turned the page.

  Temerity came back out. “Okay, ready for bath time?”

  “Okay,” Seth said. He carried the book to the sofa and set it carefully on the coffee table to wait for him. He patted it contentedly, then scratched Runt behind the ears, and headed for the bathroom with the dog trotting after him.

  “Rupert will be here around two,” Temerity called over her shoulder. “In case you’re up and you want to come down and say hi.”

  Ellen was too tired to ask what it was that Temerity had wanted Rupert to do. She went u
pstairs and stood at her round window for a minute. Ellen felt little bubbles fizzing in her heart, like a soda when you poured it fast.

  She had climbed under the covers when she heard a knock at her door. “Yes?” she called.

  “Can I come in?” Temerity asked.

  “Sure.” Ellen sat up. Temerity opened the door, but she didn’t come all the way in.

  “Remember how that detective, Barclay, said he owed you a favor?” she asked.

  Ellen nodded and then remembered to say “Yes.”

  “Did he give you a number to get in touch with him?”

  Ellen’s eyes went to her dresser. Barclay’s card was still there. “He gave me his card,” she said, but suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Aha! I knew you were holding out on me. Can I borrow it?” Temerity said. “I think I might have come up with something he can do so he doesn’t have to feel indebted anymore.”

  Ellen came bolt upright. “You can’t ask him to find that Frank person,” she said in a panic.

  Temerity frowned and waved both hands in front of her as though warding off bats. “No, no. It’s not that. It has to do with Seth.”

  “But if you tell him about Seth . . .” Ellen began.

  Temerity said impatiently, “Don’t you trust me?”

  Ellen didn’t want to say that yes, she did, kind of, but also . . . not exactly. So instead, she said, “Why won’t you talk to the piano guy? He obviously wants to talk to you.”

  Temerity rubbed her fingers together nervously. “Can I be honest?”

  Ellen grinned. “No, lie to me.”

  “Okay. I’m an alien.”

  Ellen laughed.

  “The truth is, this”—Temerity pointed to her eyes—“is a pretty big deal. I mean, not for me, but who would choose a blind woman for a girlfriend?”

  For the first time Ellen realized that Temerity might need encouragement, too. She was no expert on this, but she knew enough from watching people in romantic and explosive situations to offer at least an observation. “I’m not sure, but it seems to me that nobody knows what will happen with a new person. Not until they get together and try it. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to be friends with you,” Ellen confessed.

  “Well, thanks a lot!” Temerity laughed. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. I’m really happy with the way things are.” Then before Ellen could comment she said, “Now, quit stalling. Where’s the card?” Ellen slipped out of bed and handed it to her. From her pocket, Temerity took a small recorder she sometimes used for this kind of thing and clicked it on. “Read me the number,” she said. Ellen did. “Okay, sleep tight!” And with a whistle, the tune of which sounded like mischief to Ellen, her friend went back downstairs.

  27

  Ellen wasn’t sure what woke her up, but she sat up quickly. Distantly, she heard the sound of the door buzzer. She checked the clock. It was almost three. She’d had such a light breakfast, for her, that she felt hungry. Ellen got dressed in sweatpants and a sweater and went down the stairs. As she reached the hallway, she heard a knock at the door.

  Ellen hesitated. If it was Rupert, that would be okay, but she wasn’t sure she was feeling up to seeing Thelma and Beth. She crept through the dark, windowless hall toward the door to the loft’s living area, which was cracked open, but halfway to her vantage point she realized someone else was already there.

  It was a man, and she could tell immediately from the silhouette that it was not Justice. Ellen almost cried out, but just then the man moved into the light from the room outside and she saw that it was Detective Barclay. He was so focused on what was going on outside that he hadn’t registered her approach at all.

  What was going on? Ellen moved against the wall and waited. In a moment, she heard the door to the landing open and then she heard Rupert’s voice, cracking with nervousness, say, “Tony Smith? Come on in.”

  There was a general shuffling, and then the unmistakably smarmy voice of Seth’s uncle said, “Where is he?”

  “He’s not here, but I’ll take you to him as long as you agree to our deal.” Rupert’s voice was squeaking so badly that he sounded like a teenager whose voice was changing.

  “Sure, no problem. Like we said on the phone, you tell me where he is and you get the boy once a week for a month, special rate. How did you know, by the way?”

  “He told me,” Rupert said, his voice still quavering. “I told him I’d help him, and then I got your flyer. You want to sit down?”

  Ellen saw Detective Barclay tense. He pulled something out of his jacket and let it hang in his hand by his side. A gun. Ellen started to back up, and then suddenly the door to Justice’s room opened and the hallway was flooded with light as Seth stuck his head out. Barclay spun around and instinctively raised the gun.

  Seth registered the gun in the detective’s hand and a terrified scream came from his open mouth. Ellen got to him first. She put one hand over his mouth and the other one around his waist, but the boy struggled to get away.

  Barclay glanced back over his shoulder, then stepped to one side as the door flew open, concealing him behind it. Ellen had backed into the bedroom, desperately trying to pull Seth with her, but he fought blindly, broke away, and flew across the hall. Ellen fell back and landed hard on the floor of the bedroom. In the doorway stood Seth’s uncle. Ellen could see him surveying the boy. He smiled cruelly and advanced on the child. “There you are. Did you really think you could hide from me? You’ll be sorry you ever ran out on me you ungrateful little—”

  He raised his hand to strike the child. Seth whimpered and crouched, covering his head with his hands. Ellen scrambled to get to her feet, but before she could, there was a growl and a blur of fur as Runt passed her and leapt at Smith, locking on to his raised arm. Barclay emerged from behind the door, grabbed the arm from Runt, shouted “Release!” and twisted Smith’s arm behind his back. “You’re under arrest,” pronounced the detective. Runt backed away, but kept up a constant low growl.

  Ellen got to Seth and pulled him against her. It was such a strange thing for her to do that she wondered at her own response, but there was so much from which to shield this boy.

  Rupert huffed into the open doorway with Temerity behind him. “Did you get him?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Oh yeah.” The detective had snapped closed the cuffs. “With a little help from my canine friend here.”

  “Good dog!” Temerity said. Runt whined, his tail wagged once, and then he went back to growling at Smith.

  Smith was cursing. “I’ll sue you! These people kidnapped my nephew, and I came to get him. How dare you assault me! I’ll have that dog put down!”

  “You might want to wait till I read you your rights before you say anything else,” Barclay said dryly. “Move,” he ordered, pushing the protesting man in front of him. He turned and, in a much gentler voice, said to Ellen, “You got him?” meaning Seth.

  Ellen nodded, and sank to the floor with her arms around the hyperventilating boy. Temerity waited for the uncle and detective to pass her, and then she came to join them. Leaning down over Seth, she said, “Shh, shhh, it’s okay. He’s never going to hurt you again. I promise you that!”

  “I . . . can’t . . . What if he . . .” The boy gasped.

  “He won’t!” Temerity said. “And you won’t have to do anything. I promise you that, too. You don’t have to see him, or say anything. Now, come on, let’s go in the bedroom and lock the door until they’re gone. Good idea?”

  Seth scrambled up and shot into Justice’s bedroom with Runt at his heels. Temerity went in after them. She found the door, and as she was closing it, she said, “Ellen, let me know when Beth gets here.”

  “Okay,” said Ellen. She was trembling so badly that she had to get to her hands and knees and then use the wall to climb back to her feet. “What just happened?” she whispered to herself.

 
Ellen went to the living room doorway and slipped in behind it. She watched through the crack between the hinges as Detective Barclay finished reading Smith his rights. The man started trying to wheedle his way out of it. Ellen had known he would. The liar. “Why are you arresting me? You should be arresting that guy!” He jerked his head at Rupert. “The pervert called me and wanted me to trade favors from my nephew to get him back.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Barclay said. “But he called me, too, right after, and invited me to stop by and meet you.” Barclay sat Smith roughly in a chair and went to the table. He picked up Temerity’s tiny recorder and pushed play. Ellen couldn’t make out exact words all the way across the room, but she did recognize both Smith’s voice and Rupert’s, exceedingly nervous, in a conversation. And she could also see Smith’s face. It had gone pasty white.

  “You’re going down,” Barclay said simply. He still had his gun in one hand, pointed at the floor. With the other, he pulled out his phone. “Yeah, Barclay here. I need a patrol unit to transfer a suspect.” He gave the address.

  Rupert was standing as far in the corner of the kitchen as he could squeeze himself, but there was something about the way he was holding his head, and a light in his eyes, that was different. Ellen watched him and realized what it most likely was.

  Probably for the first time in his life, this overweight, ultra-shy, gentle artist had taken on the bully.

  And won. Ellen knew how much that must have cost him. Warmth spread across her chest.

  The uniforms arrived, and Ellen stayed behind the door, watching. Barclay explained that Temerity was with the child, who was traumatized, and she would come downtown later. He did not mention Ellen’s presence. They led Smith away in cuffs, he was not talking now. Rupert went with Barclay to give a statement downtown. When they were gone, the door buzzer rang again.

  Ellen looked at it. She waited. It buzzed again. Tentatively, she pressed speak. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Thelma!” called the jaunty voice. Yes, jaunty. Ellen pressed the buzzer key, feeling relieved rather than otherwise. Thelma was here, brave Thelma.