Saint Mazie: A Novel (13 page)

I adore every little thing about taking the train to work. I feel gentle, resting on the cushion of the straw cane seats, the ceiling fans above dusting me with air. The train rocks us all in sweet rhythm. Babies drop their heads on their mamas’ chests. I keep catching myself smiling like a fool on the train. The smell of the burning oil even makes me feel a little lusty, though I know that’s odd. No one around me knows what it means to me, what five cents a ride can do for a girl. Change her world forever.

Another postcard from Jeanie today. A picture of White City. I liked all the sweet little trees around the edges of the park. Not so different from our Luna Park, I suppose, except we’ve got the ocean and all Chicago’s got is some boring old lake. Phoenix Theatre, that’s where she’s playing these days.

The postcard said: Why didn’t you tell me staying up late was this much fun?

A note like that, now she’s just bragging. I hope she’s having the time of her life. I hope she’s breaking hearts and wearing out those heels on her dancing shoes. I hope someone’s having fun somewhere.

Sister Tee brought a peace offering, a bag of sweets, peppermint candies strong enough to knock you sober.

Sister Tee said: I didn’t do anything wrong.

I said: It wasn’t what you did. It was what you said.

Sister Tee: What did I say? I was only concerned for your welfare.

It makes me grind my teeth, her talking like she knows better than me how to take care of myself. She’s no older than I am. Devotion to something doesn’t make you any kind of expert on life. Life makes you an expert on life.

I forgave her though. I missed her when she was gone, and I adore her, it’s true. No one I’d rather tease than my little Tee.

Postcard from Jeanie.

It said: I’m in love with love.

I didn’t like this postcard much. Michigan Boulevard, Looking North. Bunch of buildings and cars, no different than New York City. Cleaner, I suppose. Shoot anything from the right angle and it can look clean.

Al Flicker was on the train this morning. He got on at Jay Street, with a plump, purple shiner.

I said: Hey, Al, I’d hate to see the other guy, right?

Just trying to make a joke, make things easy on the guy. But he didn’t think it was funny. He didn’t think it was much of anything. He just looked behind me, at the darkness of the station. He stared so hard I looked myself to see if there was anything there. But all I could see was pitch-black tunnel.

My mother didn’t know where he was disappearing to, and I don’t think he could have told you much either. He was a grown man though, and allowed to go where he pleased. I was still carousing in Europe myself, so I couldn’t really disagree with how he spent his time. In my mother’s letters and phone calls though, I could tell she was really worried. She used to say he’d be the death of her, and I’d say, “Ma, like anything could kill you.”

A postcard from the Captain.

It said: I’ll be in New York City on October 4. I’d be honored if you’d join me for dinner. P.S. You look gorgeous in red.

Devastating day. Ain’t seen nothing like it before in my life, never hope to again.

A bomb went off down on Wall Street. I heard it at noon. A mile away and I could hear it, not like it was right next to me but close enough. No lines for another hour, so I shut the cage and stepped outside. I saw Mack running. Then more of the foot patrol. I watched them fly. I stopped breathing for a second. The whole city grew quiet, I swear it. And then I heard screaming. I hiked up my skirt and started running down Pearl Street. Don’t know what I was thinking, don’t know where I was heading. Just toward the noise. Just wanted to help.

After a few minutes a crowd was coming from the other direction. Some of them covered in yellow dust, like parchment, and then a few with some blood. Nobody was dying, but they were all scared and crying. Dazed creatures. I was pushing against them, I didn’t mean to. I was going the wrong direction. I used to outrun all the boys. I still remember turning and seeing them all trailing behind me.

The farther downtown I got, the more dust I saw. All kinds of things flying through the air. The red of the blood against the yellow of the dust. I’d have liked to wash it all clean. Started praying for rain, thought that would help. Whatever’s up there in the sky, let it rain. I looked up but all I saw was these clouds of smoke, yellow and green mixed together. Sirens screeching madness. Someone said it was the Morgan building, a bomb at the Morgan building.

I ran up Wall Street. Windows blown out in buildings along the way. I started seeing bodies. I saw some arms. I don’t know why I didn’t turn back. There was the leg of a horse. Blood on the streets. Then I saw Sister Tee on the ground, her hands pressed against a man’s leg, a bleeding wound. I dropped to my knees. I took the scarf from my neck, and we tied it together around him. Police all around, everyone racing. There was another man bleeding next to him, and another, and another. We moved together. I ripped off the hem of my dress and we tied it on the next man’s wound. Mack was in the distance, with other officers. The dust was all around us. We stayed until there was no one left to help, till all the bodies were gone.

Sister Tee and I walked up through Chinatown together, slow and dizzy. She stopped us in front of the Church of the Transfiguration.

She said: Look up.

There was a statue in the steeple, an old man, chipped white marble.

She said: Saint John Bosco.

I said: Well where were you today, Saint Bosco?

She said: Oh he was there.

She crossed herself and I would have laughed but today was no day for disrespect.

Finny’s was open later. Funny how it opens and closes as it pleases. No one said a thing. I saw half the force in there I swear. Everyone needed a drink. The saddest day I’ve ever seen in New York City.

The anarchists, police were saying. Justice tomorrow, I thought. Tonight let’s just sleep.

I got home a few minutes ago and Rosie said Louis was driving me to work in the morning.

I rose at dawn and snuck out of my own home. I’d be damned if I didn’t take that train with the rest of New York City today. I wondered if I’d be the only one riding, but sure enough, stop after stop, people got on. All dressed in dark colors, dark skirts, dark blouses, dark suits, dark hats. Their finest and saddest. The whole train hovered with gloom.

At Flatbush, a man boarded, hauling a crate of apples. They were small and bright green. I nodded at the man and he nodded at me. He was small too, short, with a dark, swirling mustache. An Italian I thought.

He said: I picked these in New Jersey yesterday. I was out of town all day. I missed everything because I was picking apples.

I said: Better to miss it.

He said: It’s not the kind of thing you want to see but it’s not the kind of thing you want to miss neither.

I said: I saw it. Believe you me.

He said: It just made me want to fight someone, anyone. Wished I could have helped.

I said: I know it.

He said: Hey, you want an apple?

I said: There’s nothing more on this earth I want than one of those apples.

He handed me one. He asked a lady sitting next to me if she wanted one too, and then another, and then another. Soon enough all his apples were gone. We all sat there eating them, our shiny green rewards for being alive. The train rocked us back and forth like we were babies. You couldn’t hear nothing but the sound of people crunching on apples. It wasn’t like we forgot the day before. It was just that those were some damn good apples.

This city, as imperfect as it is, knows how to come together when things get rough.

Louis drove me to the city this morning. Just because, said Rosie. Just because.

Louis said: You don’t go any farther downtown today, you hear me. It’s none of our business.

I said: It was working stiffs, just like me. Those are the people standing in my line, Louis.

He said: We ain’t losing any more family members this year, Mazie.

Rosie’s on me about Louis driving me to work again every day. She wants me to go from cage to cage to cage. No way, no how. The train’s the only time I have to myself.

Down on the floor scrubbing and she’s calling out orders. That woman makes more rules on her knees than most kings do on thrones.

I said: I’m taking the train goddammit.

Rosie turned her back on me and started scrubbing again. But that didn’t mean she agreed with me.

Louis dropped by again, more money in the safe. I’ve been daydreaming about stealing it, not all of it, just enough. What’s mine is yours, sis—he tells me that all the time. I could take it and go. But would I even know what to do if I ran? Where would I go? To White City to find Jeanie? I’d just end up working in another ticket booth. From one cage to another.

I forgot about the Captain coming to town. How could I forget? I did, though. But there he was, at the cage. In his uniform.

I said: I forgot to wear red, sir.

He said: You’re beautiful no matter what, miss.

He could bend me in two, that’s how fragile I am these days. I’m made of paper, fold me at the edges.

We walked up the Bowery.

He said: It’s cleaned up since the last time I was here.

I said: There’s no more booze.

He said: There’s always booze.

He pulled a flask from his pocket. Then he turned us down Hester Street, toward the park there. His hand on my elbow. He whispered something in my ear about loving my elbow and I nearly loathed him.

We sat in the park quietly. A gent and a lady, passing a flask back and forth.

He said: They take it away, it only makes you want it more.

I said: Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.

I looked down at the ground, suddenly humbled. I had this feeling the whole time that seeing him was going to humble me.

A police officer turned a block up. The Captain slid the flask in his coat pocket, fast and easy. Like a thief on the street.

He said: What do you want to do on a night like tonight?

What I really wanted to do was get on the train with him to Coney Island so he could meet Rosie and Louis. Let’s sit together on the train and be like people in love. Let’s sit together in my kitchen with my family. Let’s be like those other people.

He didn’t wait for me to answer. He turned and kissed me, fingertips in my hair, wicked little pleasure points.

He said: What about that, beautiful? Do you want to do that?

My desire for him humbled me most of all. I went with him to his hotel. It was clean and quiet. In his room he kissed me at the door. Wretched and perfect. Oh he smelled like a man and I could have howled at the moon.

He said: I can’t believe we’ll have all night.

I watched as he undressed. He watched as I undressed.

I made him give me more of the flask and I drank it and he drank it till it was done. We spilled it on each other some too. We sipped it off each other’s flesh. I got down on my knees. He said my name and told me I was beautiful as I sucked. Then we were on the bed. Then, at last, I howled at the moon.

It went on like that for a while. I’m raw today. Each step I take reminds me of him.

I’d love him if I could. But he’s got a whole life out there, flying free wherever he likes, and I know nothing about what he does with his time. Except that I do know, I think. And I ain’t a part of it.

In my dream I tell him about the baby and he turns his back to me and I throw my arms around him and he says why are you telling me this now and I say I just thought you should know and he says what’s the point of knowing and I say I’m just letting you know there was something there and now it’s gone and he says I wish you hadn’t told me I could have lived my whole life not knowing and I said me too and he said it would have been fine now I have to carry it with me forever and I say me too me too me too.

Louis and me stood on the front porch and stared down at the ocean. Summer’s gone, it’s over. Nothing left to grasp at.

Louis said: You don’t want to spend a little time with your old pal Louis?

I said: I don’t want to be driven.

He said: I’ll buy a new car, fresh off the lot. Your pick. And it’ll be in your name.

I said: It’s not fair.

I cried. He tried to hold me but I wouldn’t let him. Let him go hold his wife instead.

I’ll move out, that’s what I’ll do. Back into the city. I got a job, I got money saved. I’ll find a single apartment just right for a girl like me. Other girls do it, lots of them, all the time. I can find someone to rent to me. I won’t even tell Rosie. I’ll just move out in the middle of the night. I’ll pack up my things and run in the night. If she wants to talk to me she can come and stand in line just like everyone else.

Mack stopped by the cage.

I said: What’s the good word?

He said: Nothing, not a peep.

I said: What about that thing that happened down on Wall Street?

He said: We’re trying, we’re trying.

I said: Truly nothing then?

He said: Not a lot of evidence to be found, unless you count a horse’s head, and that horse ain’t talking. But we’ve got our eye on some individuals. Just because we can’t prove it doesn’t mean they didn’t do it.

I shuddered then. I don’t like that kind of talk.