Love Saves the Day (22 page)

“Eight weeks in the mountains away from our parents.” Josh smiles. “What could be better?”

“Eight weeks in the suburbs with no kids,” Josh’s mother says, and everybody laughs.

Josh turns to look at Laura. “Did you ever go to summer camp?”

“Me?” Laura seems surprised. She scrunches her eyebrows and turns up one side of her mouth, as if she thinks this question is foolish. “Lower East Side kids didn’t go to summer camp. Unless you count roller skating through an open fire hydrant as camp.” She grins. “We used to call it urban waterskiing.”

“So what did your mother do with you when school was out?” Josh’s mother asks.

Laura shrugs. “Mostly I helped out at her record store, or stayed with neighbors in our building. Some mornings she’d take me with her to the thieves’ market on Astor Place to buy back records shoplifters had stolen. Then we’d go to Kiev for chocolate blintzes. That’s only until I was about nine or ten,” Laura adds, in a way that makes it seem like she wants to change the subject. “After that I started taking summer classes to help me prepare for the tests to get into Stuyvesant.”

Josh’s father’s eyebrows raise and he lets out a low whistle. My ears prick up at the sound, thinking maybe he’s calling me over to give me some fish. I run to stand next to the chair where he’s sitting and rub my cheeks vigorously against its sides. But all he does is say, “Your mother cared about your education. Stuyvesant’s one helluva prestigious high school.”

“Believe me, I know.” Laura gives a short laugh. “Those tests were
not
easy.”

“So, wait,” Josh says. “You would have been nine in, what, ’89?” When Laura nods, he says, “That must have been a great summer to hang out in a record store. You had
Mind Bomb
by The The,
Paul’s Boutique
, the Pogues’
Peace and Love
.”

Laura’s face as she looks at him is perplexed but also affectionate for the first time in a long time. “How can you possibly know all that right off the top of your head?”

Josh grins. “You knew you married a geek.”

“Hey,” Erica interrupts. “Didn’t
Bleach
come out that summer?”

“That’s right!” Josh turns to face Laura again. “What did your mother think of early Nirvana?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Laura takes a bite of her bagel, and I watch enviously as the fish goes into her mouth. But when nobody else says anything, waiting for her to answer, she swallows and tells Josh, “She wasn’t all that interested in them at first. It wasn’t her kind of music. But Anise came into town and dragged her to see them at the Pyramid Club. It was the first time they’d played New
York, and Kurt Cobain got into a brawl with one of the bouncers. That was on Tuesday night.” There’s a kind of unwilling respect in Laura’s smile. “Wednesday morning she called her distributer and had him overnight her a gazillion copies of
Bleach
. By the time the store closed on Sunday she’d sold out.”

Josh’s father stands and carries his empty plate into the kitchen. I sink to my belly and put my nose between my front paws, disappointed that he didn’t think to give me any fish. “The Lower East Side was so violent back then,” he says. “Remember, Zelda? Every time you read about it in the papers, it was nothing but muggings, arson, and drug dealers.” He comes back to the living room and settles again into the chair.

“You were taking your life in your hands just driving through that neighborhood,” Josh’s mother agrees. “It’s surprising your mother decided to raise a child alone down there.”

“Ma,” Josh says. There’s a warning in his voice.

“No, that’s okay,” Laura says. “It was different if you actually lived there,” she tells his parents. “My mother made a point of getting to know people, so there’d always be someone to keep an eye out for me. I remember one time, I was twelve and riding my bike along Fourteenth and Second, and some older kid tried to sell me drugs. These hookers who knew my mother just
descended
on him.” She laughs. “One of them insisted on walking me back to the store so she could deliver me to my mother personally.”

Even though Laura’s words seem friendly at first, there’s a hard, protective sound to her voice. As if she doesn’t want Josh’s parents to think anything bad about Sarah. This is odd, because Sarah says Laura will never stop being angry at her for the record store or where she decided to raise Laura.
She blames the record store for everything
, Sarah once told Anise. Then she sighed and said,
Actually, she blames me
.

As Laura talks, though, she starts to sound softer and her shoulders relax. The ache in my chest from Sarah’s being away thrums and eases as I listen to her, and I hope she’ll keep talking about Sarah this way. It’s nice to hear different memories of Sarah than the ones I already have. Maybe if Laura says enough of her
different memories, we’ll have remembered Sarah enough for her to come back and always be with us.

Josh likes listening to her, too. His eyes get shinier and don’t move away from her face at all while she speaks. His posture (and Laura’s, too) is more relaxed, so that now his arm and leg brush lightly against hers without either of them noticing much—in the old, comfortable way they used to be together before they started being angry all the time.

But his parents look horrified at what Laura has just said, and Laura realizes this. Her face turns bright red, and she gives a laugh that sounds like a dog’s yelp. “It was completely different on Ninth west of A, though, where my mom’s store was,” she adds quickly. “
That
street was always quiet. The street we lived on was nice, too …” Laura’s voice trails off and when she speaks again, her voice is casual. “How did we get on this subject, anyway?” She looks at Erica, who’s sitting next to Josh’s mother on the smaller couch. “We were talking about your plans for the kids this summer.”

“I have something lined up for them through their school three days a week, but I don’t know what to do with them the other two.” Erica looks glum.

“I can take them two days a week, if you want,” Josh says.

Erica hesitates. You can tell by her face how badly she wants to say yes, but she doesn’t want to say so right away. “Are you sure? I know you have … other things to do.”

“Sure!” Josh says. “I could use some time out of the house, anyway. It’ll be fun.”

Laura’s nostrils widen just a little. She gets up and starts taking empty plates into the kitchen, her fingers gripping them tightly. I follow her and, thinking I
certainly
deserve a reward for the admirable patience I’ve shown all afternoon, I stand next to the counter and meow at her in the loudest, firmest voice I have. She salvages a small piece of fish from someone’s plate and puts it on the floor for me.

I gobble it down quickly—but, really, I deserve better than that, seeing as I’ve waited so long to try some. When Laura starts
scraping the rest of the food from the plates into the garbage disposal, I paw at her leg and meow more insistently. That’s when she turns to look down at me and says, “Don’t push your luck.”

After everybody leaves, Josh carries the plates and platters of leftover fish into the kitchen. The fish goes into plastic wrap and the platters go into the sink. I’m
still
hoping Josh will give me some fish—like he
promised
—but instead he puts on a pair of springy yellow gloves and turns the faucet on. Steam and little rainbow soap bubbles rise into the air. Normally I’d love to jump and try to catch a few, but I don’t want to take my eyes off that fish.

Laura comes in with the glasses everybody drank from and sets them down next to the sink. “Good!” Josh says cheerfully. “You can help me dry.”

Laura picks up a towel and stands next to him. From the set of her back it’s clear that something is bothering her. “What’s wrong?” Josh asks, as he hands her a washed plate.

Laura’s towel rubs the wet platter so hard it squeaks. “I just think we should’ve at least discussed it before you committed to taking the kids two days a week.” She sets the dried platter into a metal rack next to the sink.

Josh hands her another one. “What’s the big deal? I have the time, and I really
do
need to get out. I’m going crazy sitting here alone every day.”

Laura’s elbow moves rapidly up and down as she dries. “What about looking for a job?”

Josh’s laugh is brief and harsh. “Trust me,” he says, “three days a week is plenty of time to make phone calls nobody returns and send emails nobody responds to.”

“But what if somebody wants to schedule an interview one of the days when you have the kids?” Laura takes the next plate from his gloved hand. “Or what if you
get
a job in a few weeks and don’t have time for them anymore?”

“Then Erica and I will make other arrangements. That’s a bridge we can cross if and when we get to it.” Josh turns off the
faucet. The yellow gloves make a snapping sound as he peels them off and turns to face Laura. “Laura, in the next two minutes my parents would’ve offered to take the kids. At their age they shouldn’t be driving into the city twice a week or running around after two little kids all day. My family needs help, and I’m in a position to offer it. I should’ve discussed it with you first. You’re right about that, and I’m sorry. But I really don’t see what the problem is.”

“I’m your family, too,” Laura says quietly, and it occurs to me for the first time that she’s right—Laura and Josh
are
a family. I’d thought of them as being more like roommates—like Anise and Sarah, or like Sarah and me—because their schedules are so different and they don’t act like the families on TV shows. But Laura and Josh are a family, and for a moment I’m distracted from the thought of all that fish as I wonder what that makes
me
in their lives. “I’d like to think that I get to be a part of family decisions,” she adds.

Josh’s face wavers, and I think maybe he’s about to say something nice to her. But then his face hardens again. “I’m not the only one around here deciding things unilaterally.”

Laura folds the towel neatly in half and slides it through the handle of the refrigerator, where it hangs to dry. “I’m going upstairs to change,” she tells him, and walks out of the kitchen.

Josh sighs after she leaves, his eyes roaming around the room until they fall on me, still waiting by the counter. “I promised you some fish, didn’t I?” he asks, like it just occurred to him—like I hadn’t
clearly
been trying to remind him of this all afternoon! He takes a nice fat slice of the smoked fish out of its plastic wrap and puts it in the palm of his hand, which is shaking slightly. Then he bends down, holding his hand out toward me. “Come on, Prudence,” he says in an encouraging voice. “Here you go.”

I’m confused, because what does Josh expect me to do? Eat the fish right out of his hand? But then I’d have to touch him! Why can’t he just put it on the floor for me, or on a little Prudence-plate (which would be best)?

“Come on, Prudence,” Josh says again. His mouth twists. “I’d like to be on good terms with at least one woman in this house.”

What house? What is he talking about? Raising my right paw carefully, I try batting at the fish in his hand, hoping to make it fall to the floor. But it stays right where it is.

And that’s when Josh does the oddest thing. He starts singing to me, just like Sarah used to.
“Pru-dence, Pru-dence, give me your answer, do.”
I look into his face, bewildered. That’s when he straightens up and starts moving around the kitchen, turning in circles as he kicks out his feet and waves his hands. He’s dancing! He does a funny little dance around the kitchen, dangling the piece of fish between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. I follow his movements, trying to stay near the fish but away from his feet. Even my whiskers are having a hard time helping me stay balanced as he sings, more loudly this time,
“I’m half CRA-zy, all for the love of you.”
Now he throws himself down on one knee with the other leg bent, draping the fish across his bent leg.
“It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage. But you’ll look sweet, on the seat, of a bicycle built for twoooooooo!”

He puts one hand on his chest and throws the other into the air as he holds the last note for a long time. It looks like he’s having a good time, actually, as silly as all this dancing around is. Even I have to admit he’s kind of entertaining right now. While he’s distracted, I come close enough to pull the fish off his leg with my teeth. He strokes my back cautiously as I eat, and I’m so happy to finally have my fish, I don’t even try to stop him.

We both look up as we hear an unexpected sound. It’s Laura, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her lips are pressed together, but this time it’s because she’s trying to hold back laughter. Her shoulders are shaking with the effort. When she’s calmed down a bit, she says, “That was pretty adorable.”

Josh ducks his head with fake modesty. “Well, I try.”

He stands back up, and the two of them look at each other’s eyes. He’s breathing a bit harder than normal because of all that dancing around.

Laura walks across the room toward him. “I’m sorry,” she says, and wraps both arms tightly around Josh’s waist. “About everything. Not just today.”

“
I’m
sorry,” Josh tells her. For a moment, I wonder if they’re going to start arguing about who’s sorrier. He pulls back to look into her face. “You know how crazy I am about you.” He grins. “I’m even crazy about how much you love your job.”

Laura leans her head against his chest. “I’m pretty crazy about you, too.”

“Then we’re two lucky people,” he says, and kisses the top of her head.

I hear the puckering sound of their lips coming together. I continue to eat my fish as the two of them go upstairs to their bedroom. It’s dark outside before they come back down.

T
HERE WAS ONE DAY IN EARLY
J
UNE THAT WAS DIFFERENT FOR
S
ARAH
from all the other days in the year. She would always spend it listening to the same two songs over and over. The first song is on a black disk from one of Sarah’s favorite bands, and in it the man who’s singing asks if he fell in love with you, would you (not
you
, but the “you” in the song) promise to be true? The other song is by a woman. In
that
song the woman keeps saying to dim all the lights so she can dance the night away. Sarah never danced when she listened to this song, though, and she kept all the lights just as bright as they always were. She’d take out some dried old flowers from a metal box that she kept in the closet, and lie on the couch with a pillow Anise made for her out of her wedding dress. The pillow is covered in dark marks that Sarah says are water stains it got from being outside in the rain once, a long time ago.