After the Fog (49 page)

Rose looked at her feet and picked up two suitcases, touched by Buzzy’s sincerity that for once didn’t feel like manipulative flattery or biting sarcasm. She told herself not to hold back. “I’ve missed you so much,” Rose said.

Sara Clara pulled off her gloves and wiped away tears.

Rose dropped the suitcases and went to her sister-in-law, folding her into her arms. You’re my family. You’re mine and I’m yours, Rose thought.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “It wasn’t the same without you.” Rose felt strange to utter those words and odder still to feel them. “It wasn’t right. Not even with all I’ve done gathering data for the surveys. That feels good, to be effective again. But, really, for the first time, it didn’t matter the same way. Even knowing it’s important work.”

Rose held her grip for another few seconds before releasing Sara Clara and laughing. “So that’s it? You guys got your tongues taken out when you were down south or something?” It was then Buzzy pulled a clump of money from his coat pocket and held it out.

He’d stumbled upon an Alcoholics Anonymous chapter in North Carolina and though he’d just made it part way through the steps, he was back home to make amends.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rose said, taking the money. “I’ll be damned.” She pulled him into a hug that he couldn’t squirm out of. She thought of the money she’d given to Mrs. Saltz to move, and that in giving it away, she had made room for something better.

Sara Clara’s father had paid Buzzy to work while in North Carolina, and he promised Rose to refill the coffers even if it was a little at a time. She studied him as he spoke; looking for telltale signs he was playing her for a fool. But in the same way Rose had seen sincerity in Dottie she saw it in Buzzy’s gaze, too.

* * *

Four weeks later, Rose and Sara Clara were working together in the kitchen. Rose was back at her stove, scrambling eggs while percolating coffee and cooking up the bacon and sausage. Sara Clara scurried around the house, readying for the job at Isaly’s she now had as a part-time cashier. Leo was still asleep. The door squealed open and Buzzy returned from working at the mill, exactly 7:20. He kissed Rose’s cheek, making her feel Henry’s absence more than she had in months.

Buzzy yammered on about mill gossip, informing Rose of one family’s needs or another. He reported what Rose already knew; many residents were still unwilling to talk about the fog and the mills.

Rose appreciated Buzzy’s verbal serenade. He never really expected her to respond with more than a nod or umhum and it allowed her time to think of Magdalena and John, without the yearning it brought. She didn’t fully trust Buzzy, but she saw that he had changed in a way that couldn’t be denied.

The door screeched open and Dottie appeared, black bag dangling, arms laden with files. Rose scrambled to relieve Dottie of the paperwork, hoisted it onto the kitchen table, and thanked her.

“I’ve gone over everything and it looks good. I think we’re ready to start this thing up,” Dottie said as she headed back toward the doorway.

Buzzy looked at Rose and then toward the doorway.

Rose bolted after Dottie.

“It’s the most generous gift, Dottie. Thank you. Now we don’t have to worry about begging for clinic money, well you know what this means.”

Dottie nodded turning back to open the door.

“Wait. Breakfast.” Rose said. “Stay for some eggs and bacon. Please.”

Dottie paused and then turned.

Rose walked over to Dottie and took her hand. “You’re my friend. And friends always stay for a meal.”

A small smile appeared on Dottie’s face and she nodded. Then as Rose prepared the rest of breakfast, she relaxed as she heard Buzzy and Sara Clara treat Dottie as though she were family, as though they understood that she should have been all along.

For her entire life, Rose alienated herself from the other women in town. Oh, she’d nurse them in the most intimate of circumstances, but her nursing was her shield, too busy to have tea or lunch, to have even one friend. And now there was Dottie, Father Tom, and she’d come to realize, Bonaroti. Every woman needed a friend. A spouse could only do so much. Rose could see that her friendship meant something to Dottie, too. For the first time, Rose thought she just might actually be able to
be
a friend.

* * *

Rose made good on her promise not to manage anyone’s life and while it made her visits with John enjoyable, she ached not knowing what his future would hold. Henry used a portion of the money they had saved for Magdalena’s college—he’d spent it on something. Rose wasn’t sure for what, but he never consulted her on it, just spent the money. But Rose kept her mouth shut. She’d learned to pick her arguments.

She felt good; she didn’t have to manage anyone but herself.

Rose went about her now normal routine. She checked in on those needing home health care and mapped out which homes she still needed to visit to interview about the fog. And, she would stop at Mellon Bank on the corner of McKean and Fifth and check in on the accounts she’d opened for the children and Henry.

Buzzy had told her that Henry would come to town to deposit money in the account. Rose would then check up on what he’d done, feeling as though somehow they were talking to one another through the bank transactions—him depositing, her checking up on the funds. In March Rose noticed he’d withdrawn several hundred dollars and Buzzy informed her he was using the money for going to college as he had once dreamed of doing.

Rose felt compelled to meet Henry face to face, but was not confident to call him on the phone and order a meeting and was too fragile to request one. So, she planned to run into him the next time he came Donora to deposit money.

Rose had dawdled inside the bank much longer than was normal, even making small talk with people she didn’t like very much. Finally realizing Henry was not coming, she left the bank and ran smack into Pierpont who was tacking paper onto the telephone pole right outside the bank.

“Hey, Mrs. Pavlesic. It’s been awhile! You got to catch a glimpse of this.” He shoved a paper into her hands and then nearly skipped down the sidewalk tacking up the papers on every surface he could. When Rose couldn’t see him anymore, she looked at the paper he’d pushed into her hand. There in black print was an announcement that the band,
Johnny and the Slag Heap
, was to perform at the Galaxy in two weeks.

There was a photo of the fellas playing, blurry as it was—the printing must have been cheap—she could make out the forms of each boy as easy as if they had been standing in front of her. There, in the front was her Johnny, trumpet to his lips, smiling around it as he always did, leaning awkwardly against the piano, clearly up and about, but not yet the man he had been.

Rose felt like she was socked in the belly. She bent over, tears flowing that her son had not listened to her and was living the life he was destined for, rather than the one she’d constructed for him.

A tap on her back made her straighten. She wiped her tears then turned to see Magdalena standing there.

“Mum?”

Rose felt her throat tighten. She straightened her hat, overcome by the sight of her daughter’s bulging belly. Henry’s arm was slung over Magdalena’s shoulder making Rose feel alienated from them further. She did not know what to say with them both there. Where would she start?

“You’re crying,” Henry said.

Rose shook her head and wiped her eyes.

“Is it John?” Magdalena said.

Rose shook her head. “Oh, Jesus, who’s crying? Not old me, you know better than that.” Rose had never hesitated in showing Magdalena affection or withholding it, but right then, knowing all she wanted to do was hold her daughter, she was for the first time, not sure she should.

As though Magdalena could read Rose’s thoughts, she broke away from Henry and stepped toward Rose, making the first move back into her life.

Rose had never felt such a precious hug. She inhaled Magdalena’s freshly shampooed hair and opened her eyes to see Henry open his arms and take both women into them, holding tight. Months earlier, a public gesture like this would have put her in the grave, but now she didn’t care if they looked foolish. Her family was back with her and that was all that mattered.

Wednesday, May 18, 1949

I
t was like old times; Henry and Buzzy, Sara Clara and Leo huddled around the breakfast table, swapping news. Magdalena waddled into the room, still in her bathrobe.

Rose watched her daughter, warmed by the sweet glow of her pregnant daughter. She no longer allowed herself to linger in regret, thinking that Magdalena’s life might not be perfect in the way she hoped it would. Rose crossed herself so thankful she and Henry had returned regularly to make deposits in their bank account, that she could stage her running into them on McKean. Rose kissed Magdalena’s cheek, the sound of her daughter saying her name filling her with love.

Magdalena ran her hand over her pregnant belly. “I want to talk to you about the baby.”

“Let’s go to the bedroom for privacy,” Rose said.

“No, I’ll say what I have to with everyone here. No secrets.”

Rose and Henry’s eyes met before she glanced at Buzzy and Sara Clara. Rose locked gazes with Magdalena.

“I want to go to University of Pittsburgh,” Magdalena said.

“You’re about to be a mother.”

“I know. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t go to school. I know I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. But I was wondering. What if I went to college and you help raise the baby? I mean, when I think of who it is I want to be, it’s someone like you, Mum. And I can’t do that alone, with a baby.”

Rose set the spatula down on the counter and looked to Henry then back to Magdalena.

Buzzy lowered his paper, but was remarkably speechless on the matter. Sara Clara stirred sugar into her tea.

“What,” Rose said. “Like the Murphy kid who thinks his grandmother’s his mother? And his real mother walks around town with her “real” children and everyone knows it, but the boy who knows something is amiss but not what?”

Rose sat beside Henry and took a sip of his coffee. “That poor kid’s mixed up and I think you could trace his confusion directly back to that one error in judgment.” Rose cocked her head. “And I know a lot about errors in judgment.”

“I don’t mean that, Mum. I’ll study while the baby naps.”

“What makes you think the Tucharoni boy will agree to all of this?”

“We’ve already discussed it. He’ll live here, too.”

Rose thought of the upcoming wedding ceremony Father Tom would preside over in just a few days. “I don’t know if it’s possible to do what you want.”

“Yes you do. I do, too. Sara Clara does.” Magdalena motioned to Sara Clara who nodded back.

“Sara Clara’s going to watch the baby while I’m at class and you’re working. I know people will talk, Mum. They’ll talk any which way you slice this up. I was meant to do this, be a scientist. And, I can do both—be a mom and be educated. “

Henry sipped his coffee. “I don’t know. I understand you want to do this, but it’s just not done. Women have a hard enough time in college, to have to…”

Rose shook her head. She worried it would be too hard for Magdalena, too.

Magdalena tapped her foot and lifted her chin. “Even if you say no, I’m telling you right now, I’m going to college. I’ll find a way. I’m going.”

Henry reached across the table and took Rose’s hand.

Magdalena covered her parents’ hands with hers. “You see Mum, who you are, is part of me. I know I can handle this because everything you’ve taught me. I can do this because of you. And, isn’t that what you wanted in the first place?”

Rose looked at Henry and the others.

“We’ll all help, Rose,” Buzzy said over his paper.

Rose cleared her throat, swallowing her reaction to Buzzy’s sincerity. “If this is going to work,” Rose said, “with my nursing and the mill shifts and Leo, we’ll all have to pitch in. And the only way to do that is to stay in this house.”

Magdalena let out a squeal and crushed Rose in a hug. Rose squeezed back as her daughter patted the back of her head and smoothed her hair, like a mother would a child, and in that small gesture, Rose felt loved.

* * *

Rose pulled her stockings and underwear from her drawer and began to dress for work. Henry came into the bedroom, but averted his gaze from Rose’s naked body. A month had gone by since Henry and Magdalena returned home and neither Rose nor Henry had discussed their marriage, the lies, the way each had treated the other.

Rose rehearsed the conversation repeatedly. She and Henry would sit holding hands, looking at each other dead-on, calmly discussing their mistakes instead screaming them out the way they had at the cemetery. Now that she understood what had happened with Dottie, she needed to apologize. They both knew the facts of their pasts, but Rose wasn’t sure he understood that she hadn’t meant to lie so much. She forgave Henry for his lies, for pushing her aside. But, still she could not bring herself to tell him how she felt as the events of that week in October had unfolded, how it felt to lose her family, her work, herself.