In the Unlikely Event (36 page)

Miri reached for Natalie's hand and for just a moment Natalie looked right into her eyes. “Will you miss me if I go?”

“You know I will.” Did she mean
die
or move to Nevada?

Lulu said, “If I wanted to die that badly I'd be dead by now, Goldilocks.”

“She pulls out her tubes,” Natalie said. “She tricks the nurses. You know what she has? It's called anorexia nervosa.”

“You have it, too, cutie pie.” Lulu looked at Miri and pointed a finger at Natalie. “She has it, too.”

“You never know if she's telling the truth or lying,” Natalie said with a nod toward Lulu. “You can't believe anything she says. If she croaks I just hope she does it when I'm not around.”

“I'll remember that, Golden One.”

“See this banana,” Natalie said to Miri, as she began to peel back the skin.

“Don't eat that in front of me or I'll vomit,” Lulu said.

“She can't even look at food.”

“I can if it's a picture in a magazine. Just not the real stuff. Not the smelly stuff.”

“I have to go outside to eat a banana,” Natalie said.
“Banana!”
she shouted, wagging it in front of Lulu.

Lulu gagged and reached for her call button. A nurse came into the room. “What now, Lulu?”

“She made me gag.”

“I didn't
make
her gag,” Natalie said. “I showed her the banana, that's all.”

Miri snuck a look at her watch. She wanted to get out of there in the worst way.

“I think your mother is waiting for me,” she told Natalie. She picked up the gift-wrapped copy of
Seventeenth Summer
from the chair where she'd set it down earlier and handed it to Natalie. “I brought this for you.”

“I hope it's not chocolates.”

“It's a book.”

“Let's see,” Lulu said as Natalie tore the paper off Miri's gift. “
Seventeenth Summer…
how sweet. Are you in love with her?” Lulu asked Miri.

“Don't answer that!” Natalie said. Then, quietly, she told Miri, “I already read it.”

“I know,” Miri said. “We read it together. I just thought…I thought…”

Lulu started singing,
“Be my love…”

“Shut up, Lulu!” Natalie said.

“I've got to go,” Miri said.

“Sure,” Natalie said. “I don't blame you.”

“
HOW DID SHE SEEM
?” Corinne asked on the way home.

“She was good.”

“Argumentative? Angry?”

Miri nodded. “A little.”

“That's better than depressed. She's eating again. Not a lot. And only a few things. But that's progress. Green grapes, iceberg lettuce and bananas. Like a chimpanzee.” Corinne gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, god—I don't know why I said that. Please don't mention that I said that, about the chimpanzee.”

Miri wanted to say she liked chimpanzees, but she didn't.

REASON HAS ITS LIMITATIONS

APRIL 14—The inflamed mob action which has been taking place in Egypt, Tunisia, Iran and elsewhere should point a major lesson to democratic western policy makers—the futility of placing too much faith in logic and reason when dealing with angry, impassioned peoples. Something similar can be seen even here in a few of the more violent and irrational proposals made to combat Newark Airport Expansion.

30

Steve

On April 15 Steve got an acceptance letter from Syracuse. Phil got in, too. Just the way they'd planned. Instead of celebrating, Steve went down to Williamson Street and walked around where Kathy died, all the time talking to her, trying to explain what was going on. Or maybe he was trying to explain it to himself. How someone his age, someone beautiful, someone he had dreamed about, someone he had kissed, could have stepped onto a plane one January afternoon and be dead an hour and a half later. How could that happen? How could that be real? So, thanks, but no thanks, Syracuse. He was never setting foot on that campus again, never setting foot in that town, in the whole of upstate New York.

Phil was waiting for him when he got home, sitting outside in his car. “I figured you'd come home sooner or later.”

Steve shoehorned himself into Phil's MG, an early graduation present from his parents. “I'm not going to Syracuse,” Steve told him.

“Me neither,” Phil said. “So which one do you want to go to—Rutgers or Lehigh?”

Steve shrugged.

“I say Lehigh,” Phil said. “Put some distance between us and our families.”

“Okay.”

“We have to send back our forms with a check.”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow, right?”

“Sure. Tomorrow.”

“I'm counting on you,” Phil said.

“Don't count on me too much.”

“What do you mean? We're in this together.”

“I got to go,” Steve said, getting out of Phil's car.

He supposed by now his mother had told his father he'd gotten into all three schools he'd applied to. But maybe not. Because his mother and father didn't seem to be speaking these days. Life at home was no fun, to put it mildly. Natalie was lucky she was at that rest home. He hoped she was getting plenty of rest. Because there was nothing restful about living here. Only Fern carried on as if everything were okay. Maybe that was her way of dealing with it. Pretend everything is fine. Same as always. Too bad he couldn't do that.

Inside, his parents and Fern were waiting for him in the kitchen. “Congratulations!” they called out. Was this a surprise party? Were his friends hiding in the other room? He looked around, but no, it was just the family. What was left of the family. He supposed he should be grateful. A surprise party was the last thing he wanted. Besides, all his friends would be celebrating with their families tonight, except for the ones who didn't get into their first-choice schools.

“Look at your cake!” Fern sang. “It's your favorite. All chocolate. From Allen's Bakery.”

“We're proud of you, son,” his father said, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

His mother embraced him. “I never doubted you'd do well.”

“Can we eat the cake now?” Fern asked, practically drooling over it.

“After Steve has his supper,” his mother said. “I'll heat up the plate I saved for you.”

“No, I'll have cake for my supper,” Steve said, making Fern clap her hands.

His mother started to protest but his father said, “You're not going to be there next year to make sure he has supper before dessert. You might as well get used to it.”

At which point his mother burst into tears and left the room.

“She's just emotional about you leaving home,” his father said, trying to reassure him.

“Good Natalie's not here,” Fern said. “She doesn't eat cake.”

APRIL 28—Western Union has introduced an electronic service which provides the busy businessman with a push-button telegraph office right on his desk. The device is the Desk-Fax, a machine which sends and receives telegrams by literally taking a picture of them.

Transmission is possible up to nine miles. The quality diminishes over longer distances because of the limitations of telephone lines.

31

Christina

Dr. O seemed tense at the office. Daisy was sweeping up more figurines than usual. Christina kept count of them. One day there were five dwarfs left on the shelf, and the next, only three. A few days later Daisy took her aside. “He can't decide whether to take the offer to open a practice in Las Vegas or not. His friends are building a modern medical-dental center and they're begging him to come. If he does, I'm willing to go with him. What about you, Christina—would you consider starting a new life after graduation?”

“You mean move to Las Vegas?”

“If he decides to go.”

“I don't know. Jack would have to want to go, too.”

“You should tell him there will be great jobs for an electrician out there. Think of all the hotels they're building.”

“But it's so far away.”

“It
is
far away. I can't deny that.”

“My parents…”

“I know. It's hard to leave family behind.”

“They'd never agree to let me go.”

“But you'd have plenty of vacation time to come home and visit. And you could make it a two-year commitment, like going away to college, except instead of paying, you get paid. You'd make good money, too.”

“But I wouldn't know anyone.”

“You'd know me. And Dr. O. And you and Jack would make new friends.”

“Jack is 1-A. He could get called up at any time.”

“Let's hope that ridiculous war ends before then.”

“Daisy—can I tell you something? You'd have to keep it to yourself. I mean it, no one can know. But if I don't tell someone, I'm going to explode.”

“You can trust me, Christina.”

“I know I can.”

Daisy waited for more.

Christina finally bit the bullet and blurted out, “Jack and I are secretly married. We eloped to Elkton.”

Daisy came out from behind her desk. “Oh, Christina.” She put her arms around her. “I hope you'll be very happy.” Then, “You didn't
have
to get married, did you?”

Christina laughed. “No. And that doctor you sent me to…he fitted me for a diaphragm so I won't have to worry.”

“When are you going to tell your parents?”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

“Well, don't say anything about Las Vegas yet. First, Dr. O has to make up his mind. But I have a feeling he's going to do it, and I admit I'm kind of excited about going. I'm starting to feel like a pioneer.”

A pioneer, Christina thought. The Wild West. She'd have to learn to ride a horse, she supposed. The idea of it made her giddy.

Daisy

Christina and Jack were married! She knew Christina had something on her mind but a secret marriage had never occurred to her. She should have guessed. Hadn't she done the same at Christina's age—running off with Gerald Dupree, né Dorfman, to Elkton?
Gerald Dupree
. What a name. And
Daisy Dupree
—even better. A fabulous name, she'd thought at the time, a name fit for a stripper, or, even better, a movie star, which made her laugh—the only good thing that had come out of her hasty young marriage, annulled two weeks after they'd eloped.

But that was a lifetime ago. Gerry had been older, twenty-five to her eighteen. He'd been working for ten years by then, for the Stasio boys, number runners, then bootleggers. It was 1936, times were hard. She was a year out of Linden High School, where she'd won every award in the business program—for typing, steno, bookkeeping. She was lucky to find a job working as a secretary for an insurance agent in Newark. She wasn't his
número uno
, as he called his longtime secretary, but he liked Daisy, admired her for her organizational skills. With her first paycheck she went for an eye exam, got prescription glasses and the difference in the way she could see felt like a miracle.

Tall, with perfect skin and thick dark hair cut short, a good body, excellent posture, Daisy could have passed for twenty-five. Her older sister, Evelyn, had taught her a thing or two about using makeup, about flirting.

She'd met Gerald Dupree at a lunch counter, where they'd both ordered split-pea soup. When their checks came he put down the fifteen cents to pay for hers. She married him on a whim, two months later.

She knew what to expect on her wedding night, but nothing beyond that. In a motel outside Elkton, Gerry became frustrated with her. “What's going on down there?” he'd asked.

“How should I know?” she'd answered.

“I can't get in.”

“I told you—I'm a virgin.”

“I've had my share of virgins, baby, but this is something else.”

He sent her to a doctor, who broke the news. She would never be able to have children, would never have normal sexual relations. She understood about not being able to have children. But what did she know about normal? What did she know about sexual relations? She didn't ask questions, and the doctor didn't offer explanations.

When she told Gerry she would not be able to have children he seemed more angry than disappointed. He didn't hold her or kiss her or say he loved her anyway. “Did he tell you why you couldn't have children?” he asked.

“Something about missing female body parts.”

“Jesus, body parts! What body parts? You mean you're a freak? I married a freak? Did you know? You must have known.”

“I didn't know.”

“How could you not have known? You tricked me into marrying you.”

“How did I trick you?”

“You gave me the come-on from day one. You were such a sexpot. Did you think I wouldn't find out? What did you think would happen when…oh, Christ, never mind. We'll get it annulled.”

“What's ‘annulled'?”

“It means, since the marriage was never consummated—”

“What's ‘consummated'?”

“We never had sex. Do you know what that means?”

She wasn't an idiot. She just didn't understand what was happening.

“So now we go back to the way it was before we went to Elkton,” he told her. “We go back to our lives before we met.”

“Can I keep your name?”

This made him laugh. “
Dupree
? You want to be
Daisy Dupree
?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, Daisy! How're you going to explain that to your family?”

“That's my business.”

“Be my guest.”

AFTER THAT
, she'd reinvented herself. She'd learned to throw back a Scotch, to straddle a chair, smoke a pack of Camels a day and laugh at off-color jokes. She even told a few herself.

When her brother-in-law, Mel, said,
You've turned into a real broad, Daisy, she'd said, Good for me!

She became strong, even tough if she had to be, a woman who made friends with men but who never let it get romantic. She was done with all that, with girlish dreams of houses with picket fences and little children calling her “Mommy.” She was a female in every way but one. So she was missing some of her lady parts. So what? The doctor had referred to her as “juvenile” down there. Well, that was the only part of her that was juvenile. She'd never have to worry about why she wasn't getting pregnant, the way her sister, Evelyn, did. Maybe Evelyn was missing lady parts, too. She hadn't told Evelyn or anyone else about her
condition
.

She lived with Evelyn and Mel in the small house she and Evelyn had inherited from their father. When Mel was killed driving home one rainy night on Vauxhall Road, Daisy was there for her sister. After a few months she encouraged Evelyn to take a refresher course at Katharine Gibbs, using some of the insurance money she'd collected when Mel died. “Get a job,” Daisy told her. “You'll feel better.”

But jobs were scarce. The insurance agent was sorry he had to let Daisy go but the Depression was taking its toll, as if she didn't know. She learned to drive her father's old car, which had been sitting in the garage since her father's death. The mechanic down the street got it running in exchange for a few bags of groceries. She heard about a dental practice in Elizabeth, looking for an assistant. She was interviewed by the dentist and his wife. They hired her on the spot. They hoped things would improve soon, and when they did, they'd promised her a raise.

AFTER TEN YEARS
working for Dr. O, he'd asked out of the blue, “I don't mean to pry, Daisy, but how is it a beautiful, accomplished woman like you has never married?”

She'd burst into tears, surprising herself and Dr. O.

“There…there…” he'd said, holding her, patting her back the way her father might have.

She felt so safe with him, trusted him so completely, she told him about Gerald Dupree and her condition.

He took a minute to respond. “Would you like me to set up an appointment with a specialist for you?”

“Yes,” she said, surprising herself again. “I would.”

The specialist confirmed the first doctor's findings. He gave a name to her condition, though she would never use it. She asked Dr. O to tell no one, not even his wife.

“You don't have to worry,” he said. “You are an extraordinary person, Daisy. Among the finest I've ever known. I consider myself lucky to have you in my life.”

“The feelings are mutual, Dr. O.”

She'd thought after that day they'd have no secrets from each other.