Her father was busy trying to remove a fried dumpling from its foil tray with a pair of chopsticks. “You know, there is a very famous story,” he said, chopsticks in hand, “of a man who didn’t know what to do. His mother was dying in a hospital in France and he was offered the job of his dreams in Germany. ‘If I take the job, I will never see my mother again,’ he said. ‘If I stay and say goodbye to my mother I will never have this professional opportunity again. It is the job I always wanted.’ He was paralyzed by indecision. He couldn’t move. Much like my problem with this dumpling, coincidentally.”
Veronica and her mom couldn’t take their eyes off Mr. Morgan struggling with his chopsticks.
“So,” Mr. Morgan continued, “the man sought the advice of a famous French philosopher.”
“Marvin,” Mrs. Morgan said.
“Marion,” Mr. Morgan said.
“Use a fork.”
“Good idea,” he said, spearing the dumpling. “Yummy.”
Veronica tried not to watch the pork juice dribbling down his chin, heading for his tie. Mrs. Morgan handed her husband a napkin, which he placed on his lap.
“Your chin,” she said, and threw her hands in the air.
“Ah, thank you,” Marvin Morgan said, and dabbed his chin. “My story reminds me of Veronica’s predicament. Should she go with the one girl? Or should she go with the other girls? Veronica, do you see the connection with the story your wise and wonderful father is telling?”
“Yes, Daddy, duh. The man doesn’t know what to do. Neither do I.”
“Excellent. So what do you think the man should do?”
“I don’t even know what I should do. How do I know what that man should do?” Veronica found herself rubbing her finger on the caning of her dining room chair a little too hard.
“Marvin, tell your daughter what the philosopher said.”
“Thank you, Marion. The philosopher said: ‘It doesn’t matter what you do. Just do something.’”
“That’s it?” Veronica and her mother shouted, in unison.
“Daddy! That is totally unsatisfying and completely unhelpful and I still don’t know what to do.”
“That is because, my dearest daughter, you can’t be two places at once, so just keep your word.”
“Or, what if you tried to all go together?” Mrs. Morgan said.
“No, Mommy,” Veronica said.
What a ridiculous idea. No one told Athena and Sarah-Lisa what to do. They told you.
* * *
And yet, the next day, in the cafeteria, that is exactly what she found herself doing.
“My parents will probably like a bigger group,” Sarah-Lisa said. “With four of us they’ll think it’s safer. How many apartments are in your building?”
Veronica couldn’t believe it was so easy.
“Well,” she said, “fourteen floors and three apartments on each floor—”
“Are there really fourteen floors?” Athena asked. “Or are there actually thirteen floors and they call the thirteenth floor fourteen because they don’t want to give anyone bad luck by living on the thirteenth floor?”
“I hate when they do that,” Sarah-Lisa said. “Don’t the people on the fourteenth floor know they really live on the thirteenth floor?”
Veronica had wondered this before too. Her apartment building did actually only have thirteen floors but, like Athena said, they called the thirteenth floor fourteen.
“There’s only thirteen floors,” Veronica said nervously.
“That seems dangerous. On Halloween, I mean. Couldn’t we just go in my neighborhood where it is all brownstones?” Melody said. “I am afraid of the number thirteen? And black cats? And spiders?”
“Geez, Melody, Halloween doesn’t sound like your holiday,” Athena said. “Come on, let’s trick-or-treat at Veronica’s! We’ve never been to a real thirteenth floor on Halloween!”
Sarah-Lisa pouted. “But my building has so many more apartments, you guys. There are four wings. There will be so much more candy.”
“Yeah,” said Melody. “I don’t want any bad luck—”
“Please,” Athena begged. “We always trick-or-treat at your house. Let’s do something new.”
The idea that the A Team was coming through an open window, right into Veronica’s house, was thrilling. But because Veronica was Veronica, her joy was eclipsed by a scenario more terrifying than thirteen floors, black cats, and spiders combined: her mother acting out while her father told idiotic jokes.
She never should have asked everyone to come over.
Progress
On Halloween, Mrs. Morgan piled Veronica’s hair up and slicked it back with pomade and carefully drew two brown lines above her daughter’s lip. “God forbid, you look like Hitler,” she said before adding dramatic curls to the ends. “Although now you look like a nineteenth-century villain about to tie a young lady to the railroad tracks.”
Veronica peeked at the mirror nervously. “No, it’s good. I like it!” she said.
She didn’t look like herself. She looked like a man. It was a good costume. She picked up the book she had turned into her Holy Bible prop and put it under her arm. Maybe the Bible would protect them from thirteenth-floor bad luck. At least she wouldn’t be far from home if and when something unlucky happened.
Melody and Mrs. Jenkins arrived fifteen minutes early, which Mrs. Morgan said was indicative of a form of social anxiety. Fitzy, who also suffered from social anxiety, barked at the door like a crazy dog four times her size. Veronica put her leash on and held tight. You could never be too careful. She opened the door and almost fainted. Melody was breathtaking. She wore a long, many-layered white gown, a jeweled crown, and had silk flowers braided in her hair.
Fitzy chomped down on the hem of Melody’s gown. No one noticed until the animal began swinging her head back and forth, violently, like she had a stuffed animal in her mouth she was trying to kill.
“Oh! Melody! Don’t let her do that!” Mrs. Jenkins said.
“I’m not doing anything!” Melody cried.
Veronica was horrified. It was a matter of seconds before Melody’s whole costume would be in tatters. She’d be naked.
“Fitzy! Drop it,” Veronica commanded. She pulled Fitzy closer. Poor Fitzy. Her costume, which Veronica had worked so hard on, was awful compared to Melody’s. “Your dress is so pretty, Melody,” Veronica said, trying to reattach Fitzy’s veil. “Are you a bride?”
“Sort of. I’m Adalgisa,” Melody said, beaming. Veronica had never seen Melody so happy.
“I am sure she doesn’t know who that is,” Melody’s mother said from the vestibule. She sounded embarrassed. Whether about the lavish costume her daughter was wearing or that Veronica had no idea who Adalgisa was, Veronica couldn’t be sure.
“Adalgisa is the high priestess from Bellini’s Norma,” Melody explained.
“Oh,” Veronica said.
Mrs. Jenkins, meanwhile, had backed away from the front door and was covering her mouth and nose with her scarf. “Melody,” she said, her voice muffled, “your dad and I will pick you up downstairs at nine p.m. sharp. Okay?”
“Okay,” Melody said.
Mrs. Morgan sauntered in from the living room. Why couldn’t she just walk in and meet Veronica’s friends like a normal person? That was obviously her own form of social anxiety. “Hello, I’m Marion Morgan. Come in! We’ve heard so much about Melody.”
“I am extremely allergic to dogs,” Mrs. Jenkins said.
“Oh no!” Mrs. Morgan said. “And we have two tonight!”
That information sent Melody’s mother several feet farther away, and when the elevator doors opened she couldn’t get inside fast enough. They waved goodbye and the elevator doors closed. That was the end of Mrs. Jenkins.
“This is very special for me. To be here. With you? I will shower for twenty minutes when I get home to remove the allergens from my body,” Melody said.
“Oh my,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Well, what a beaut
iful costume! Marvin, come look.” Mr. Morgan appeared, making high-pitched sounds, which Veronica could only assume were meant to express delight.
“Oh! The opera friend! That is really a terrific costume! Just wonderful!” Marvin said. He encased Melody’s fragile hands inside one of his enormous ones. “Pleasure to meet you, Melanie.”
“Daddy, her name is Melody.”
“That’s what I said. Didn’t I?”
“No, you said Melanie.”
Mr. Morgan looked sheepishly at his wife for corroboration.
“You did. You called her Melanie,” she said.
“My name is Melody,” Melody said. “Melody Jenkins.”
“Yes, dear, most of us know that,” Mrs. Morgan said.
* * *
Minutes later Veronica opened the door for Sarah-Lisa and Athena. She was confused. They both seemed to be stuffed into a pair of khakis and a giant sweatshirt.
“We’re conjoined twins,” Sarah-Lisa said. “No one gets it, Athena. Why don’t people understand us?”
Veronica looked more carefully. Athena and Sarah-Lisa were wearing one costume between them. One oversize hoodie and one three-legged pair of pants. They were still getting used to their new girth and struggled to fit through the door. They thought this was hilarious. When they finally pushed their way in, they knocked Veronica into the hall table. Everything on it fell to the floor: keys, mail, magazines, and dog leashes. Sarah-Lisa and Athena apologized, promising to pick everything up.
“Sarah-Lisa!” Athena cried. “You have to bend with me! One, two, three … bend,” she said. But they were so giddy, all they could do was laugh.
Veronica had invited them, hoping this night would cement their friendship, but they showed up as one person. How much more left out could they make her feel?
“Athena, we are being so rude,” Sarah-Lisa said. She flashed a perfect smile and shook Veronica’s mother’s hand. “I’m Sarah-Lisa Carver. Such a pleasure to be here.”
“What a costume!” Mrs. Morgan said. “How did you do that? Do you mind if I stare?”
“No. That’s the idea. We want to be stared at,” Athena said.
Mrs. Morgan laughed and walked all the way around the two girls with her eyes and mouth wide.
Athena and Sarah-Lisa explained to Mrs. Morgan in too much detail how they had taken two large pairs of khakis and joined the two inside legs creating one three-legged pair. Veronica thought it was too perfect—a professional must have done it. She was fuming. Sarah-Lisa described the way they had put their inside arms around each other, while wrapping their torsos with a big Ace bandage until their upper bodies were united. Who cared! They went on to say how they put themselves inside the giant hooded sweatshirt and zipped it up the middle. As if that wasn’t obvious.
The toilet in the powder room flushed and Marvin Morgan appeared. Veronica thought she was going to break out in hives.
“Ah,” he said, beaming, “you must be Athena-Lisa?”
“That is so clever!” Athena declared. “That should be our new name, since we’re now officially one person. Let’s be Athena-Lisa.”
“Girls,” Mrs. Morgan said, possibly sensing Veronica’s distress, “come in the living room. We have one little thing we want to do before we let you out there to get candy.”
Melody, meanwhile, had been left alone with the dogs in the living room and was nearly in tears. Cadbury sat patiently at her feet and Fitzy quietly chewed on the hem of her dress.
“Fitzy! Leave it!” Veronica said and picked her up. She felt so bad for Melody.
“Wow, Melody! What a getup! You look so pretty,” Athena said.
“Where did you get that?” Sarah-Lisa asked.
“I borrowed it from the costume shop. It is from a production we did last year. I hope they won’t be mad your dog ate some of it?” she added nervously. Was Melody serious? Of course they would be mad.
“Oh my gosh! Is that Cadbury?” Athena cried. She ran over, pulling Sarah-Lisa behind. They banged, rather hard, into the coffee table. It seemed they were never going to remember they were attached. They burst into hysterical laughter yet again.
“Sarah-Lisa,” Athena said, “look at how cute the dogs are! Look at their charming costumes!”
Sarah-Lisa didn’t share Athena’s enthusiasm.
“Okay, gather round,” Mr. Morgan said. “We have a little Morgan tradition. I want to get a picture of you in your costumes before you go on your merry way.”
The instruction manual for this particular camera promised it was easy enough for a five-year-old to master, but the average five-year-old was a genius with technology compared to Mr. Morgan. The practice pictures he’d taken earlier of Cadbury had come out entirely black.
“When I was your age,” he said, squinting into the camera, “we had to wait a week for the drugstore to get the film developed, and now there isn’t even film. Okay, I have the lens thingy off. Let’s try this.”
Veronica found it incredible that her father had a job, considering he barely knew how to operate a camera, let alone a computer.
“Yep, I remember going to the drugstore and ripping open that envelope. I couldn’t wait to see those pictures. Now you get impatient waiting a few seconds for the image to download on the whosie. Incredible. Everything is so different. Absolutely incredible. All you have to do now is push a button and the entire universe is available.”
“It’s a new world, Marvin, for the people who know which button to push,” Veronica’s mother said.
“Daddy, take the picture already.” Veronica held the dogs tightly.
“One question before I shoot. You don’t want to make it a Jewish wedding, Veronica? Your mother and I could go with you and carry a little chuppah, Cadbury could break a glass?” her father asked. “I just don’t understand why the New Testament.”
“Would it make you feel better if she was holding an Old Testament?” her mother said. Veronica cringed.
“Yes,” her father said. “It would. I can’t help it.”
“You realize, Marvin, that for an atheist who hates religion, you make no sense,” her mother said. Veronica caught Athena and Sarah-Lisa smirking.
“I am a very complex person, what can I say?”
“Daddy, take the picture, please!”
“Okay, ready? Here goes. Where’s the whatsit?”
“Here, Marvin, push here,” Marion Morgan said as his finger fumbled at the buttons.
Veronica held her breath and prayed he would take the shot so they could all get out of there.
* * *
Sometimes people gave out crummy stuff like pretzels or cheap lollipops that weren’t even Tootsie Pops. But this year the candy was excellent and as apartment 12C’s door closed, Veronica happily put three mini Snickers in her bag. They got into the elevator, en route to their final floor.
Athena made kissy noises at Fitzy. Since eating Melody’s costume, Fitzy had been the picture of civility. She stood quietly next to Cadbury as if they were actually recently married.
“You know what? Those dogs are really cute,” Sarah-Lisa said.
Just like that, every bad thought Veronica had ever had about Sarah-Lisa flew away. She stood next to Sarah-Lisa Carver, beaming.
“I want to take pictures,” Sarah-Lisa said. “Veronica, you stand next to Fitzy? Melody, can you pick up Cadbury? Will someone take my picture with the dogs?” Veronica took the camera from Sarah-Lisa and snapped a few pictures. Sarah-Lisa let Cadbury lick her on the mouth. Athena egged her on and was in the picture too. This was as good as it could get. Veronica was thrilled.
“Are we moving?” Melody asked.
“Let me take some,” Athena said. She took the camera. Sarah-Lisa put her arm around Veronica and they posed for a three-way selfie.
“You guys,” Melody said, “I think the elevator is stuck.”
Veronica listened for the whoosh that meant air was moving through the elevator shaft. But she couldn’t hear anything over all the laugh
ing from Sarah-Lisa and Athena.
“Shush, I’m trying to listen,” she said. There hadn’t been any jolt or bump or any noise to indicate there was a problem. But she’d been so lost in the picture taking and her new love for Sarah-Lisa she hadn’t been paying attention.
Melody began hyperventilating. Veronica tried to calculate how long it had been since the doors closed on the twelfth floor, but she couldn’t.
“Veronica, what kind of crazy elevator is this?” Sarah-Lisa said, frantically hitting buttons.
“Don’t hit the buttons. That might make it worse,” Veronica said. She had no idea if it would or not. But if she was an elevator, and she was stuck, she would not appreciate being hit and banged upon.
“I knew something exciting would happen on the bad-luck floor. We’re stuck on thirteen. It’s so romantic,” Athena said.
“What is romantic about dying on Halloween, Athena?” Sarah-Lisa said. “Melody, are you going to faint? Eat this piece of chocolate. Seriously, you look like you are going to pass out. It’s going to be okay. Right, Veronica?”
Veronica had no idea if everything was going to be okay and if Sarah-Lisa hadn’t just made her responsible for making everything okay, she probably would have been hysterical. But now that she was responsible she had to stay calm.
She picked up the red EMERGENCY telephone. It was Charlie. She was so happy to hear his voice. “I think the elevator is stuck,” Veronica said.
“Copy,” Charlie said. “All right. I see you on the control board, you’re on fourteen. I’m going to have to reboot the system. Do you see the button on the lower left panel? It looks like a hammer?”
“Yes,” Veronica said.
She looked at her friends, whose lives she was suddenly responsible for. She hoped she was up to the job. Mary always said something about faking it till you make it. She tried to exude a sense of authority, like she rebooted elevators all the time.
“Keep watching and tell me when it turns green.” Veronica’s pulse beat along with the flashing hammer. “Is it green?” Charlie asked. The button went dark like it had died. Veronica checked to see if she had died too. She was still breathing, but barely. Melody was white as a sheet.
The Good, the Bad & the Beagle Page 9