MICHELLE WALKED happily down the dirty sidewalk, not noticing the trash or the people who bumped into her with rude remarks. If cloud nine existed, she felt close to stepping on its surface. As she headed in the direction of her hotel, Michelle didn’t know quite what to do with herself. For the first time in years, she had not gone out to sell her drawings; here she was, ambling down the street like anyone else, but with nowhere to go. It did not matter; wings seemed attached to her heels and she floated despite gravity, despite the grim faces around her and in spite of all the moody feelings that hovered in the dark skies above.
A trip; it had been far too long since Michelle’s last journey out of the city. Walking slowly, she spied the side street leading towards the Good Will Pausing, she looked down at her clothes; it was the one nice, unstained outfit she possessed besides the pink gown. Biting her bottom lip, Michelle hovered by a bus stop sign, wondering if she could part with more of her precious dollars for ‘trip’ clothes. It seemed a bit extravagant but Michelle wanted to look nice for William and for Margaret; she did not want to bring shame to them or to herself by the want of a few items of clothing.
A dozen or so other people browsed through the Good Will aisles. Having decided to ‘shop’ Michelle put aside her frugal reservations. Her last date had been at senior prom; her ‘escort’ that night was as shy as she and they barely exchanged six words all night. Instead, they danced… a lot, and had a considerable amount of fun doing so. There was no need for speaking at a dance. He’d given her a chaste peck on the cheek; the boy certainly never inspired the emotions in her that William did and yet, she felt safe with her new-found interest. Soon, she’d get to go on a trip with him, to get to know his family better. The feelings accompanying such thoughts felt mildly exhilarating, as if she was about to dive out of a plane… but with a sturdy, trusty parachute.
Not in any hurry, Michelle dreamily perused the racks of used things; it looked a rainbow array of wealth to her. She was not looking for anything in particular, but hoped a wonderful outfit would jump out at her... figuratively speaking. A dark-red housecoat caught her eye; she felt it. Silk. Michelle was almost afraid to look at the tag.
“Six dollars,” she murmured. “Not bad.” For six dollars she could have a robe to be ‘suitable’ in. Margret’s home, Michelle knew, was sure to be a place where one should look proper, at the very least. The robe went into her basket. Michelle found some other useful items, including a pair of leather walking boots, garnet-red velvet jeans, a creamy pullover fleece and a long, deep green dinner dress and a gray woolen suit-dress. These, she felt would prove useful even after the trip.
Lingering in the used book section Michelle suddenly felt like someone was watching her. Pretending to ignore it, she looked for the nearest exit; spying a door nearby, she stole a glance toward the offender. A man in his late fifties stood about fifteen feet away from her, scrutinizing her face intently; his face struck Michet. She stared at him, her mouth open.
“Michelle.”
The man said her name but she didn’t move. Tears began to form in Michelle’s eyes but she blinked them away.
“Uncle Oscar?”
The man stepped closer and clasped her hand in a secure hold. It was not a threatening action, but one of relief. Still a little stunned, Michelle studied his face; she knew it well even after all this time. He towered over her much like William did, but the man’s face was aged, tanned and stocky; his hair seemed grayer than she remembered but his eyes were unchanged, a keen, warm gray. Her uncle smiled and stepped forward. Michelle let him hug her briefly.
“I’ve been trying to find you,” her uncle stated. His voice sounded stiff, but the sincerity in his face jabbed at Michelle’s heart; her brows drew together and she felt perilously close to crying.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Dad and Mom...”
“I know,” her uncle said, putting a hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “I was out of the country for several years... um... why don’t we get some coffee? This isn’t a great place to sit and talk.” Managing a weak smile, Michelle nodded.
“Just let me get these paid for and we’ll go,” she said, quietly; she paid for her items as her uncle stood nearby.
A few minutes later they sat in a nearby coffee shop. Michelle ordered cocoa; her uncle asked the man behind the counter for black coffee.
“You’ve really changed,” Oscar said, after they sat down. “I know that’s obvious but it was so strange to see you all grown up, standing in a Manhattan store.” Michelle laughed.
“The Good Will is hardly haute couture shopping,” she said, smiling. Her uncle returned her smile.
“I figured you’d be at one of them,” he explained. “I remember your mom used to go there. I kind of staked out the stores around your previous address. It was my last resort to find you.”
Michelle sat forward and looked him in the eye.
“If I may, sir... where have you been?” she began. “My father said you two had a fight but he wouldn’t say what about or why. Mom just figured it would work out between you. She said you were very busy.” Oscar’s expression sobered at her words.
“It was a bit more than just ‘busy’,” he said, seriously. “Your dad and I... well, we just stopped speaking for awhile. Back then, my work was easy to lose myself in. I had government contracts overseas, rebuilding bombed buildings, remodeling embassy compounds... that sort of thing. One country’s government where we were working kind of, well… imploded. All westerners and Americans were evacuated, but not all of us made it out in time. My crew and I were hid for weeks by a few brave families until we could make the border and fly out.”
Michelle looked at her uncle wide-eyed.
“I don’t remember seeing any of this on the news,” she said, slowly. Oscar grinned.
“Well, you wouldn’t have… bad for PR,” he said.
“So, you found out about the funeral when you got back in?”
Oscar rubbed his forehead, nodding.
“Yeah,” he said, heavily. “I heard you’d gone on to New York and I tried calling, but you weren’t listed; went by your address but the landlady said your lease had expired; she didn’t know where you’d gone. She did have your cat, though.” Michelle beamed.
“Really?” she said, joyfully. “I am so glad she still has him. I miss him.”
Oscar looked at his niece’s face carefully. This was the girl he remembered; he saw her mother’s lovely smile shining out.
“I got as far as your employer, uh… Johnson and Black,” he continued. “... but you just up and disappeared the last two years.”
“About that... I wasn’t fired justly,” Michelle put in; she didn’t know why she bothered explaining that, but for some reason it was important. Her uncle smiled.
“I figured that,” he said. “So why go underground? Did they threaten you?” Michelle snorted.
“Hardly,” she said. “They blacklisted me. No accounting firm would hire me; it was the only thing I had been schooled to do. I looked for other jobs but nothing else came up.”
“Nothing?” Oscar returned, gruffly. “Come on, surely there were jobs in restaurants and things like that...”
Michelle looked at him narrowly. She guessed that he suspected she thought herself too good for that kind of work.
“I hate to disagree with you, sir, but there were not.” Michelle was careful to keep her tone respectful; he was her uncle, after all. “It may have been some time since you looked for work in New York, but there are five people for every job. Believe me, when my lease came due I would have taken anything to keep my apartment. And, not that you’d know this, but I did work in a restaurant as a server for two years, during college.”
The man across the table from her seemed satisfied with her answer.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Your dad didn’t want to talk with me, either, you know. He and I were both were to blame, not just me.” His voice seemed gentler as he s
aid this.
“I know,” Michelle said. “I still missed you. Especially when you were all I had left.” She reached forward and touched her Uncle’s hand briefly. He gave Michelle a half-smile.
“Yeah,” he said, heaving a sigh. “Death separates like nothing else.” He looked at her closely. “You were probably too young, but do you remember Jeanie... your aunt?”
Surprised, Michelle shook her head.
“You’re married?” she asked. Oscar smiled, sadly.
“Was. She died when you were about five or so,” he explained. Michelle closed her eyes, trying to remember that far back.
“I do recall you bringing someone over once... um... she had long, black hair. She let me braid it.”
Smiling a little, Oscar nodded.
“That’s right. I’m surprised you remember. She and I were married just three years; she was pregnant and there were complications; she started hemorrhaging after only three months and they couldn’t stop it in time.” Michelle covered her mouth with her hand for a moment.
“Oh, my word…,” she managed to say. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah,” Oscar said, heavily. “Well, I had my work, you know. It’s complicated stuff; easy to get entrenched in and forget the world exists.” Michelle looked at her uncle; she realizes that was probably why he didn’t visit much after Jeanie died; her presence alone would have caused him grief, seeing how his child has died and his wife as well.
“I can understand that,” Michelle said. “These last three years I’ve drawn pen and ink pictures and sold them on a corner in Midtown. That’s what I do.”
Oscar sat up a bit straighter and stared at his niece.
“You’re kidding,” he stated. Michelle shook her head.
“It pays the bills,” she declared. “I’m not ashamed to be looked down upon. I still make my own living.” Oscar leaned forward, interested.
“So, where do you live?” Michelle smiled. Once she was done explaining her housing situation, her uncle was smiling as well.
“Well, I’ll be...” he said, scratching his head. “Even your dad would approve of that.”
“I think so,” Michelle said, happily. It felt almost sublime to talk to a family member again; she could see a lot of her father in him though she did not say so. William was Michelle’s favored choice for company but having her uncle back bolstered her confidence even more. “So, what have you been up to, Uncle?”
Leaning back against the seat, Oscar heaved a sigh.
“Well, I sold the construction company and focused back on my law degree; I opened a firm, then more of them,” he said, shortly.
“You’re a lawyer?” Michelle inquired, smiling. “I would never have guessed that.” Grinning, her uncle nodded.
“Yep. That’s what my competitors though too, until I started buying up their shares and folding their companies into my corporation. Got over forty offices now, in four countries.” He folded his arms over his chest.
Michelle looked at her uncle with a new respect.
“So... mainly, your law firm takes over other law firms?” she asked, attempting to understand his work fully. Oscar nodded.
“That’s about it,” he replied. “Of course we take on additional clients here and there to represent in takeover bids, that kind of thing.”
“That sounds like what William does for a living,” Michelle said, not realizing she’d said it out loud.
Immediately, her uncle was all ears.
“Who’s William?” he asked, looking at her keenly. At this, Michelle blushed and Oscar knew exactly who ‘William’ was.
“Um... I guess you could say he’s my boyfriend,” Michelle said, not really knowing how to explain it. She supposed they were an item, though not officially. “I met him weeks ago but we didn’t go out until yesterday, at the Monet showing; we ate dinner together and really hit it off. I had lunch with him and his mother today.” Oscar considered this information for a minute.
“Guy moves fast,” he commented. “Artsy type, huh?” Michelle made a face.
“Not really. I suppose he was there just to be there, like most people would be. He’s a lawyer.” Michelle saw her uncle scowl. “But, he also makes furniture... he has a shop full of tools; it’s his hobby.”
Oscar leaned forward and grimaced at the counter; their drinks still hadn’t come.
“Could we get our damn coffee already?” he said loudly towards a man in a green apron. Michelle hid a smile in her glove. “The service here is unacceptable.” Oscar sat back and regarded Michelle again. “So... a lawyer who can make furniture.” He scratched his chin. “He can’t be all bad. You like him, huh?” Michelle gave him a bright smile.
“Very much,” she said, with conviction. “I think Mom and Dad would have loved him. He’s English and very proper.” Oscar rolled his eyes in a comical fashion.
“Of course they’d have liked some highfalutin limey.” He picked up a paper napkin and blew his nose. “So, where does this guy work?”
“Brownstone and Peters,” Michelle answered.
At this her uncle brightened, visibly.
“Really?” He rubbed his chin for a few seconds. “That’s interesting.”
“I’d like you to meet him sometime,” Michelle suggested, hoping he’d want to. Her uncle smiled at her reassuringly.
“You bet,” he agreed. “I’m going to be here for awhile. I came here to find you, but stayed to grow the company. My main office is about six blocks that way.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Michelle shook her head in disbelief.
“That’s so... weird,” she said at last, her eyes wide. “You were close by all this time.” Oscar smiled at her.
“It’s a small world,” he said.
A timid, young girl in a green apron cautiously brought their cups to the table, looking at Oscar as if he was about to sprout fangs and devour her. Michelle’s uncle took the cups from her.
“You can go,” he told the young waitress, who scampered away. Oscar cast a warning glance at the counter, where the man glared back at him.
“Send the lamb out, eh?” Oscar mumbled into his coffee. Michelle heard it, though and smiled.
“So, where do you live in the city?” she asked.
“I don’t,” her uncle answered. “I live in Brooklyn. Take the subway in.” Michelle was impressed but not surprised. Her uncle seemed to be a common-man’s hero; of course he’d live in Brooklyn... and take the subway.
“You’re smart,” she accoladed. “I usually walk. The traffic around here is something dreadful.” Oscar grimaced.
“Wouldn’t be caught dead in it,” he agreed. “I’d take a helicopter first.” He leaned forward a little. “Where can I get a hold of you? Do you have a phone?”
“Oh, yes. The hotel will ring my room. 203,” Michelle told him. Oscar whipped out a small address book from his back pocket and wrote in it. Michelle saw he was writing with a silver Parker fountain pen; she knew it at once, for her former boss had one just like it. She remembered the man telling her it was a gift, but the giver had paid over $1000 for it.
“203...” her uncle repeated, more to himself than anyone. Looking up, he put the pen and the little book away. “No email?” Michelle shook her head.
“Shamefully, no,” she said. “The hotel has WiFi but you have to have a computer for that to work. You can leave messages for me, though, if I’m out.”
“Everybody has email now,” Oscar said, grinning. “I have seven different accounts to check.”
“I hope that’s more fun than it sounds,” Michelle said, smiling back. “Just to let you know, I will be going out of state for about a week, sometime very soon. William’s mother invited us to visit her home for an apple festival, in Vermont.”
“Huh… sounds serious.”
Looking at her uncle in the eye, Michelle chose her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was a vigilante relative threatening William to stay away.
“I’d rather it be serious,
than not,” she said, softly. To her surprise, her uncle smiled, broadly.
“That’s a good attitude to have,” he said. “Just watch yourself with him. I’m sure your dad and mom raised you to be a good, smart girl. So when are you going?” A little surprised at the compliments, Michelle gathered her thoughts.
“Um... I don’t quite know,” she admitted. “William was going to try to get a weekend off from work, and then call me with a date to leave; apparently he hasn’t had a vacation in some time. I haven’t, either.” Oscar nodded.
“I’ll give you a ring then and maybe we can get some lunch or something,” he offered. “I don’t want to lose contact with you again. This is my card; it has my number, my address and my cell number on it. Call anytime, for anything. I mean it.” He fixed her with a stern look but Michelle could see there was humor in his eyes. She smiled.
“I will. Thank you.” Michelle took the card from his hand and held it a moment before putting it in her inside pocket. “I promise to let you know if I move again.”
“You look well, did I tell you that?” Oscar said, suddenly. “You have your mom’s smile.” Michelle felt her eyes mist at his words. “I’m glad you don’t look like your dad very much; he was an ugly kid.” His words made Michelle laugh; her uncle chuckled a little along with her and they both felt as if something heavy had lifted between them.
Oscar looked at the clock.
“Well, I gotta go,” he said, standing up. He took a lid from a nearby shelf and popped it on top of his coffee. Michelle did the same with her cocoa. She was glad he wasn’t the type to just throw the unfinished beverage away. “Got people to fire… companies to buy.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Michelle returned, smiling. “I’m going to go home and do laundry.”
“I hire that out,” Oscar said, twitching his mustache. “Always hated doing laundry.” Michelle wondered if she should hug him, but he forestalled her by shaking her hand.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, looking at her with a sort of squished expression. Michelle thought his eyes looked a little watery. He was a tough, hard-working man; not the type to cry. Michelle was touched at the display of emotion apparent on his face. “And call me if you need anything… really,” the man continued.
Draw Me A Picture Page 10