In the Unlikely Event (14 page)

Miri

The Osners’ living room glowed. The Hanukkah bush was gone, replaced by a fire in the fireplace, and, at the baby grand from Altenburgs on East Jersey Street, Dr. O sat on the upholstered bench, covered by a needlepoint canvas hand-stitched by Corinne. His fingers danced over the keys, never hesitating, the same fingers that worked magic in his patients’ mouths. The guests were singing around the piano, glasses of Scotch and rye and bourbon resting on coasters to avoid getting water marks on the polished ebony. If anyone was careless, Mrs. Barnes was there in a flash, slipping a coaster under a glass here, scooping a crumpled cocktail napkin into her pocket to be deposited in the trash in the kitchen, where Mrs. Jones and her daughters, Rhonda and Jamison, were stacking up Sloppy Joe sandwiches on silver platters.

Mrs. Jones was also the Osners’ laundress, spending every Thursday at their house, washing and ironing the Osners’ clothes, their bed linens. At the end of the day Natalie’s blouses, every one perfect, would be lined up on hangers in her closet. Never any last-minute ironing with the ironing board set up in the Osners’ kitchen, the way it was at Miri’s, so that when you put on your blouse it was still warm. Mrs. Jones ironed their pillowcases, the tops of their sheets
and Suzanne once told Miri that Mrs. Jones ironed their towels, but Miri hadn’t believed her. “Why would anyone iron towels?”

“I don’t know, but she irons Natalie’s dungarees, too. You can see the creases. And Corinne’s underwear. I’ve seen her ironing Corinne’s slips and nightgowns.”

Sometimes, when Miri was ironing one of her Ship ’n Shore blouses she pretended she was a laundress, like Mrs. Jones. But the one time she’d tried to iron a bra it had melted into nothing.
Poof
, and her pretty blue nylon bra was gone forever.

Miri and Natalie joined the singers around the piano. When someone called out the name of a song, Dr. O didn’t hesitate. He moved right into it. For the first time every song spoke directly to Miri.
He dances overhead, on the ceiling near my bed
. Yes, she thought. One day you’re a regular girl, two weeks later, you’re someone in love—and wasn’t that also the title of a song?

When Rusty and Tewky came to the piano, Miri stopped singing. Rusty knew every word of every song and sang them too loud, smiling at Tewky, enjoying herself. Not that Rusty didn’t sing in her room, or when she was in the bathtub, but out in public? This was something new to Miri, and she found it embarrassing.

By then the dining room table was laden with platters. Not just the Sloppy Joe sandwiches, but a chafing dish of spicy meatballs in sauce, brisket sliced as thin as paper with white horseradish, cucumber salad, potato salad and pickles. There were trays of cookies and tarts. And rugeleh from the Jewish bakery.

Fern ran around the table in circles, like a small, badly behaved dog, and if not exactly barking and snapping at people’s ankles, then close to it. Mrs. Barnes tried to catch her but Fern was too fast.

After the buffet supper the guests headed downstairs to the finished basement, where she and Mason had first danced together. She wished he could see it tonight, with gold and silver half-moons and stars hanging from the ceiling. At the bar, bottles of Champagne sat on ice waiting for midnight toasts. And the music—instead of Nat King Cole singing “Nature Boy,” the jukebox was filled with dance music for Corinne and Dr. O’s crowd—the samba, the rhumba and the newest craze, the mambo.

“You’d think Pupi were here himself,” Miri heard one of the guests say, reminding her that Uncle Henry was dancing with Leah to the real, live Pupi at the Riviera.

Miri had to admit Tewky Purvis was a good dancer, the way he twirled Rusty but never lost control, the way Rusty was able to follow his every move. As far as Miri knew, the only place Rusty danced was in her bedroom, though sometimes she’d turn on the record player in the living room and try to get Miri to be her partner. As a little girl, Miri had loved to jitterbug with her mother, but not anymore.

Miri preferred to watch Steve Osner dancing with Phil Stein’s cousin Kathy, who wore a dark-green strapless velvet dress. She laughed a lot, and when she did, her dark eyes sparkled and crinkled up. You could tell Steve was gaga over her. Maybe she was gaga over Steve, too, even though she was a year ahead of him, already a college girl. Miri could recognize love now, or maybe it was attraction she recognized—either way, she knew it when she saw it. She could feel it when it was in the air and it was in the air around Steve Osner and Kathy Stein.

Natalie gave her a nudge. They were sitting on the steps leading up to the kitchen. “See those earrings my mother’s wearing?” Corinne was dancing with Dr. O. “Daddy gave them to her for Hanukkah. She let me try them on. She said someday I’ll find a husband who’ll give me diamond earrings. Then she reminded me for the millionth time, it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich boy as a poor boy, which is interesting, considering Daddy was a poor boy who had to work his way all through school. She said even though some people say diamonds aren’t important, they are. I didn’t tell her I’m never getting married.”

“Since when?” Miri asked, surprised.

“Since I promised Ruby my career as a dancer would always come first.”

“Do you think you should be making promises to someone who’s…” She stopped herself just in time.

“I told you,” Natalie said, annoyed. “She’s not
dead
. She’s living inside me.”

“But what does that mean?”

Natalie shook her head. “You’re not even trying to understand.”

Miri wanted to understand what Natalie was trying to tell her. For all she knew it was possible. Just because she’d never heard of having a dead person living inside you, didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. She’d read about spirits, about ghosts. Not that she believed they were real. No, she argued with herself, this thing with Natalie was crazy. It was impossible. Natalie was going nuts. Maybe she should tell someone. But Natalie trusted her with her secret. If she told, she’d be betraying her best friend, wouldn’t she? Or would she be helping her? Miri wasn’t sure. This was a secret she wished she’d never heard.

The conga line zigzagged around the room, everyone laughing as they one, two, three, kicked! Dr. O led the way. Rusty was sandwiched between him and Tewky Purvis. Kathy Stein held on to Tewky’s waist, and Steve held hers, followed by Corinne, then Dr. Reiss.

“Come on,” Natalie said, dragging Miri out to join the fun. They broke in between Dr. O and Rusty so that Miri held Natalie’s waist and Rusty held hers. Not the way she would have planned it.

Dr. O turned off the jukebox and switched on the radio for the countdown to midnight. Corinne handed out party hats and noise-makers, and as the clock struck midnight corks popped, the guests cheered and everyone started kissing.

Miri watched Steve Osner kissing Kathy Stein, his hands on her naked back. When she and Mason kissed they were almost always wearing winter coats. She tried to imagine how it would feel to have his hands on her naked back. Just that thought was enough to make her legs so weak she had to sit down.

She was grateful her mother wasn’t kissing Cousin Tewky or anyone else.

“You don’t have to worry,” Natalie said.

“Who’s worrying?”

“It’s written all over your face.”

“What is?”

“He’s not interested in getting married.”

“Suppose he falls for Rusty?”

“I’m telling you, that’s not going to happen. So you can relax and wish me a Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Nat.”

“Happy New Year, Mir.”

They hugged.

While the Champagne flowed, welcoming in 1952, the guests told one another it was going to be a great year. Miri hoped they were right.

Elizabeth Daily Post

INVESTIGATION

Stewardess Who Perished in Crash Warned Sister

By Henry Ammerman

JAN. 8—A highlight at the CAB hearing yesterday was a report that the stewardess on the C-46 that crashed on Dec. 16 had telephoned her sister just five minutes before the plane took off, telling her that the plane was “unfit to fly.” She said that passengers on the aircraft’s trip in from the West Coast suffered because cabin heaters had been inoperative.

Joseph O. Fluet, heading the investigation for the CAB, dismissed this as conjecture. He focused attention on a graphic presentation showing the course and probable altitudes flown by the plane. This had been carefully compiled from eyewitness reports and the locations of parts from the plane that fell to the ground. Experts on the C-46 have been brought in to examine the wreckage, with particular attention to the right engine, which had been streaming smoke.

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Kathy

At Syracuse, Kathy Stein told her roommate, Jane Krasner, that she’d met someone over the holidays. “And I think…well, I really liked him.”

They were on their beds with the pink and red plaid spreads they’d bought during orientation week on sale at Dey Brothers. They’d become friends right away, decorating their tiny dorm room,
figuring out how to share the only closet and the personal items they’d brought from home—Kathy’s clock radio, Jane’s foldable clothes dryer. Every night Jane diligently hand-washed her heavy wool socks in Woolite along with her bra and underpants and hung them on her wooden clothes dryer. Kathy collected her laundry for a week before using the washing machine in the basement of their dorm. Now, with finals coming up, they were studying, Kathy wrapped in the hand-knitted afghan her mother had made for her, Jane in her flannel robe.

“That was fast,” Jane said. “Where does he go to school?”

“Okay, promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

“He’s a senior in high school but he’s coming to Syracuse next year, assuming he gets in.”

Jane just looked at her.

“He’s mature for his age. Actually, we’re just a few months apart because he has a winter birthday and mine is November. So I want to get home for break after finals to see him again.”

“You better make your reservations now.”

“Come with me. I’ll introduce you to my cousin Phil. He’s Steve’s best friend. We’ll have fun.”

“Where am I supposed to get the money to fly?”

“I’ll bet my dad would spring for your ticket,” Kathy said. Her father was an orthopedic surgeon.

“Don’t do that. Don’t ask your dad to pay for me. I can take the bus.”

“But that would take all day, and another day getting back.”

“That’s why I might not come.”

“That’d be a disappointment.”

“You’re going to see a boy. You don’t need me around.”

“But it’s more fun when you’re around.”

“Thanks.”

“Wish me luck,” Kathy said. “I’m going to call home now.”

“Good luck.”

Kathy went out to the pay phone in the hall to dial her parents.

Elizabeth Daily Post

PELHAM GIRL HAS BEST POSTURE

Cites Muscular Control

JAN. 10—The annual Posture Queen award at Barnard College was given yesterday to Miss Marjory Schulhoff of Pelham, N.Y. Freshmen were judged on the basis of carriage, poise and ease of movement, both walking and sitting. Miss Schulhoff, a prospective art major, was also queen of the Columbia College rush last fall.

She attributed her success to sleep, good food and muscular control. “Exercise alone won’t do it,” she said. “I know plenty of football players who walk like apes.”

“You know,” the newly crowned Posture Queen added, “I’d feel better if it was an academic award.”

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