“I can’t wait to see the play,” Lizabett says. “You’re going to be a great Mary.”
“Understudy,” I correct her. “I’ll be the understudy.”
Lizabett nods. “But maybe someone will get sick. The flu’s going around. I’m not giving up hope.”
After reading up on Mary, I must admit I would kind of like to play the part of being her. Not because I expect to have a holy glow or anything. But I would like to get inside Mary’s skin like a good actress is supposed to do with a role.
Lizabett and I are still reading away when Marilee and Quinn come. I know they’ve been to church and I check to see if Marilee has any kind of holy glow about her because she went. She doesn’t and it’s too bad because I’d like to see some of this glow Mary must have had. Since Marilee and Quinn are here, the four of us move to a table out in the dining part of The Pews.
I don’t know why the Sisterhood never eats at our table when we have an outsider with us. We never talk about it; we just make the move out when we have company.
Marilee had called Becca on her way over to The Pews, so Becca is going to join us in a few minutes. The Pews is fairly crowded, but we get a table close to the counter. We gather six chairs, because Randy is going to sit with us as well. It’s going to be a regular party.
“I think Randy still has his spicy cheese-and-chilies burger on the specials board,” Marilee says. Quinn is the only one who bothers to look at the menu folder at the end of the table. “I think he’s got enough of that imported cheese to do the Italian tuna melt, too. That one was my creation.”
“I didn’t think Uncle Lou let anyone mess with the menu,” Lizabett says.
Marilee grins. “That’s why it’s a good time to try out a few things. Italy’s far enough away he can’t drop in for lunch. I think we had the whole Pasadena police force in here for that spicy burger. It’s something Randy fixes at his diner and it goes over big there.”
Randy comes out of the kitchen and heads for our table. He smiles when he sees us. Lizabett nudges me with her elbow. Okay, so maybe she’s right and he’s smiling at me instead of us.
The waitress, Linda, comes over to get our order.
“How’s the rehearsing going?” Randy asks as he pulls out the chair next to me.
“We’re trying to develop the character,” Lizabett says. “You know, to get inside Mary’s head.”
“She was amazing,” I add as Randy slides his chair in beside me.
It strikes me at that very moment that Mary never got to go on a date in her life. I know they didn’t do that sort of thing back then anyway, but I have to say she missed out on some of the best times. When Randy slid his chair in, he slid it a little closer to me. We’re pretty crowded at the table anyway, so it doesn’t seem too obvious when he puts his arm around the back of my chair. At least, I don’t think it’s too obvious.
No one is looking at us anyway. I guess Marilee and Lizabett decided to look at the menu after all.
The next thing I know the door to the diner opens and Becca storms inside.
“Guess who I found?” Becca demands as she walks to the table.
With Becca, it could be anyone, but I take one look at the girl who comes in the door behind Becca and I know. The girl’s face is bruised and she walks stiffly like she’s got other sore places on her body. She’s got a beige scarf wrapped around her head like a turban. Her jeans are well worn and her navy T-shirt is ragged around the hem.
“It’s Joy.” Becca leads the girl to the table. “Here, you take this chair. I’ll get another one.”
Marilee and I look at each other and then look away. Joy’s skin has that tired look that comes with cancer. I’d guess Becca was right when she said Joy is less than eighteen years old, too.
“Maybe you should start with something hot,” Randy says to Joy as he gets up. “I’ve got some red pepper tomato soup. You can eat that while you decide what else to have. It’s got lots of vitamin C.”
“I don’t need more than that,” Joy says as she sets down the menu.
“You’ll hurt Randy’s feelings if you don’t try a hamburger at least,” Marilee says.
“You’ve got that right,” Randy says as he turns to flash Joy a smile and heads to the kitchen.
“A hamburger does sound good,” Joy says.
“You may as well have the works on it,” Becca adds as she pulls her chair into the circle. “Extra cheese at least.”
When Randy brings the platter out, Joy not only has extra cheese she also has a side salad with lots of tomato and avocado on it. I also see grilled onions for her burger and several sections of fresh-cut orange.
When Joy sees the platter of food, her face changes and I see the closest thing to what Mary might have looked like that I have seen all day. It’s a brief flash of raw wonder followed by hesitation.
The waitress set everyone’s platters down shortly after Randy brought Joy’s to her, but I think we’re all watching Joy while trying to look like we’re not. I know I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“It’s too much. I didn’t expect all this,” Joy says quietly. “I can’t pay for it.”
“There’s no charge,” Randy says and then smiles at her. “I’m just testing out some new menu items and I thought you might give us your opinion.”
A look of hope builds on Joy’s face. “Well, if you’re sure it’s okay.”
“It’s definitely okay,” Randy says quietly. “We need more customer feedback.”
“Then I need to wash my hands first.” Joy looks around.
“The hallway to the right of the counter.” Randy points to the restrooms.
Jay stands up and walks to the hallway.
I sit there and think that maybe part of the holy wonder Mary felt was about hunger. I can only believe that when that angel talked to her, Mary wanted the angel’s promise to come true with a hunger that has something in common with what Joy felt.
I half expected the initial rush of wonder. What I didn’t think about was the hesitation that must have followed for Mary and then the sense that she wasn’t good enough but was filled with hope anyway.
“You did a good thing with that hamburger platter you made for Joy,” Quinn finally says to Randy.
“I packed it with as much nutrition as I could.”
“I’m sure she’ll eat as much as she can.”
“She should really come in for eggs in the morning,” Randy adds and then looks at me. “She’s sick, isn’t she?”
“I think so.” Maybe those of us in the Sisterhood aren’t the only ones who recognize the differences in skin color.
“There’s got to be some agency that takes in sick people when they’re homeless,” Randy says as he stands up. “I know a guy who runs a nonprofit for kids on the street in Hollywood. I’m going to call him right now and see what we can do.”
“He’s a good guy,” Becca says as Randy goes into the kitchen with his cell phone in his hand.
“Seems to be,” Quinn says and I hear the hesitation in his voice so I know he’s thinking, like the others might be thinking, about that offer of an apartment.
“Randy seems to worry about homeless women,” I say just to give myself a minute to think of the words to say. Nothing fancy comes to me so I just say it. “I think he was worried about me and that’s why he offered me a place to stay. I don’t think he had any other motive.”
“You?” Marilee says with a laugh. “You’ve got that big house. He doesn’t need to worry about a place for you.”
“The house belongs to my uncle,” I say and then I admit what I haven’t told anyone except Randy. “And I’m worried my uncle’s going to tell me and my parents to leave. If he did, we’d have to scramble to find a place.”
“But you’re rich,” Marilee protests.
I shake my head and look down. “My uncle supports us. Neither of my parents have worked in years. I plan to get a job soon, but my mother gets upset if I even talk about a regular job. She doesn’t think any jo
b is good enough for me. I’m going to have to do it eventually, but I want to wait until my dad gets back from his time in rehab. He’s doing so good he might be able to get a job this time. My mother might not be so upset then.”
I say it all in a rush and I know it comes out sounding jumbled. And maybe a little defensive.
There’s silence for a minute and then Joy comes back to the table. Just seeing Joy’s legs come into view gives me the courage to lift my head. I look around the table at my friends. Marilee and Lizabett are both looking stunned. I can see Becca starting to form a question in her mind. Only Quinn seems to be at ease.
“You were worried about all that and you didn’t tell us?” Becca finally gets her words out.
“We didn’t have any rules about keeping secrets,” Marilee says a little too quickly.
She’s right; we didn’t have a rule like that. But she knew, like I did, that everyone else had shared their lives. Marilee talked about the problems she’d had adjusting to her parents’ divorce. Lizabett talked about how she felt her family was smothering her. Becca talked about the struggles she had trying to be her own person in her family. And, all that time, I let them believe my family life was as smooth and unruffled as they pictured it.
“How long have you been worried like this?” Becca ignores Marilee and demands to know.
“We’ve lived with my uncle since I was twelve. It’s been okay,” I say and then I stop myself. If I’m going to do this, I need to be honest. “I’ve been worried he’s going to ask us to leave for the last six years or so.”
“Since before you got your diagnosis?” Lizabett says softly as she scoots her chair a little closer to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.
I shake my head. “I started to worry about it after I heard about the Hodgkin’s.”
That was part of the reason I never said anything to anyone. I had so much to worry about with the cancer that I thought I was just imagining that my uncle didn’t seem as tolerant of us being in his house.
“And you didn’t say a word to us?” Becca asks. “I told you everything.”
“We don’t have any rules,” Marilee stubbornly repeats what she said earlier.
By now, Joy has stopped eating and Quinn is looking at us all. I wouldn’t be surprised if the people at the counter are paying close attention to us as well. There’s enough tightly controlled emotion in Becca’s voice to make anyone want to look over here or, if not that, to at least get ready to duck and cover from where they sit.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
My words hang there as the Sisterhood seems to absorb them. Finally, I hear footsteps and look over to see Randy coming back to the table.
“Good news,” Randy says as he sits down. He looks at Joy. “I’ve got a place for you to stay for a few days. There’s a place called—” Randy stops and looks around. “Did I miss something?”
“Carly just told us that she’s worried that she and her parents might not be able to keep living with her uncle,” Marilee says quietly.
“Yeah, that’s why I mentioned the apartment over my diner. I can’t rent it to anyone because my customers make so much noise when they’re watching their sports games on television. But, if Carly didn’t mind that, she could stay there for a while. Her parents, too, if they need to.”
Becca looks at Randy. “She told you she was worried about the deal with her uncle?”
Randy nods and looks around in bewilderment.
“They’re just upset that it took me a long time to tell them,” I say.
In all the years I’ve been meeting with the Sisterhood, I’ve never disappointed them like this. Until it happened, I would have said I was so used to living with my mother’s disappointment that I could deal with anyone else’s as well. I would have been wrong to think that. I might not be so worried about cancer anymore, but the Sisterhood is still my lifeline.
Chapter Six
“A half-truth is a whole lie.”
—Jewish proverb
Becca brought us this proverb to our meeting one night in the spring of the first year. We’d been talking about whether we wanted our doctors to tell us the whole truth or if we wanted them to hedge a little so we’d have more hope. Becca wanted her doctor to hit her with everything straight on. Ka-boom. She wanted it all. I said I would rather my doctor not tell me anything if he couldn’t give me some hope along with it. Becca and I were different even back then.
Becca respects the truth and that’s why she’ll make a good judge someday. I remind myself of that on Monday morning when I’m sitting in my advanced literature class. Dealing with things straight on is who Becca is. I should have known she would be the most upset.
Lizabett gave me a hug before I left The Pews yesterday and I know she doesn’t have any hard feelings. Lizabett knows how difficult it is to get things said sometimes. Even Marilee recovered from the surprise of what I told everyone and managed to look me in the eye before we left.
But Becca was still just-under-the-surface angry. I know she didn’t want to make me feel bad, but she barely managed to say goodbye before she left to drive Joy down to the place Randy had found.
Once Becca and Joy left The Pews yesterday, we all went home. I felt like I used to back in the days when I’d spend all day with doctors then come home tired. I crawled into bed early and I still felt weary when I got up this morning. Fortunately, I had my class so I made myself get dressed and leave the house.
My class ends before Lizabett’s psychology class does so I take the bus down Colorado to wait at The Pews for her. It’s one of our days for eating lunch together. It’s nice to have these times to count on.
Marilee is already at The Pews working on the diner’s books and ordering supplies for the week so she’ll probably come to our room at noon. Lizabett should be there by then as well. I doubt Becca will come. She usually has a meeting with the judge late mornings on Mondays and so she just takes a sandwich with her for lunch. Of course, now she probably wouldn’t come even if she didn’t have a meeting.
I sit down in the room and close the French doors. Lizabett left some of the Mary books on the shelf we have and so I pull one off.
I keep thinking about secrets as I leaf through the book. I can’t help but think about all the nights we met in this room behind these French doors. These doors have become symbolic to me in a way they wouldn’t be to any of the others. When I kept my secrets, it was like I was always behind another set of invisible French doors. I could see everything that was happening in the Sisterhood, but I didn’t feel like I was fully there when it happened.
I wish I had done it differently.
Secrets make a person cautious. That’s one of the reasons I hesitated about writing in the journal, which is still sitting on the shelf where I left it, by the way. When a person has secrets, they are always worried about saying something that would give it all away.
This whole business about my uncle’s house didn’t seem like such a big secret initially. When the Sisterhood first met and we introduced ourselves, everyone told a little about their family and where they lived. I didn’t even know Becca, Lizabett and Marilee back then. I didn’t think there was any need for them to know the inside, messy business of my family. I only said I lived in San Marino with my parents. I never said we were rich or that my parents owned a house or anything.
I should have told them how it was at some point though. I thought about it when Marilee’s parents separated. But when Marilee told us about her parents’ divorce, something concrete had happened. Her father had left the house. I didn’t have anything but my suspicions and my worries to go on. How could I take up Sisterhood time with my vague worries when Marilee was facing the real thing? If my uncle had actually told us to leave his house, then I am sure I would have said something.
I hear a knock on the French doors and I look up to see Randy.
“Want some company?” he asks as he opens the door.
>
“Please.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up the whole house thing yesterday,” Randy says as he stands inside the door. He’s got a white chef’s apron on with a Lakers T-shirt beneath it.
He looks a little rumpled like he didn’t sleep well either and I like that.
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I should have told everyone a long time ago.”
Randy walks over and sits down in a chair at the table. “I’m glad you told me.”
“You’re a good listener.”
Randy shrugs. “The offer of that apartment still holds.”
I nod. “I appreciate it.”
There’s another knock on the glass panes of the French doors and Lizabett is standing there. I motion for her to come inside.
“How do you feel?” Lizabett says when she steps into the room.
“I’m fine,” I say and then realize I need to keep being honest. “A little tired and worried about me and Becca, though.”
“She’ll be fine,” Lizabett says. “She doesn’t stay mad for long.”
“She’s right though, I should have told everyone.”
Lizabett shrugs. “Sometimes it’s hard to get all the words said when we’re meeting. If you had thought you needed to tell us, you would have.”
We’re all silent for a moment.
Randy leaves to go back to the kitchen and Lizabett and I sit down with the Mary books. I have my first rehearsal this afternoon. The lead actors aren’t going to be there so I’m sure I’ll have some standing in place to do.
“I wonder when Mary learned to ride a donkey,” Lizabett says as she looks at a picture in the book.
“I suppose it’d be like learning to ride a bicycle today,” I say. “They probably learned when they were big enough to sit on the animal without falling off. Some neighborhood kid would come by and ask, ‘Want to ride my new donkey?’ and off they’d go.”
One good thing about having the nativity play happening in the Depression is that there wouldn’t have been many people riding donkeys in that time frame. Mary probably would be riding a bicycle instead. Or maybe riding in a beat-up old truck.
A Dropped Stitches Christmas Page 6