The Girl Is Trouble (12 page)

Mama.

Rain pattered on the corrugated roof. The little light that had leaked around the door was gone. If it wasn’t for the kerosene lamp we’d be in complete darkness. “What time is it?” I asked.

He strained to see his watch. “Just past five.”

Oh no. I’d missed the entire afternoon of classes, missed out on interviewing Saul and helping Pearl with the afternoon stakeout. And now I was probably worrying Pop and Mrs. M. to boot. “I’ve got to go.” I untangled myself from Benny, shocked to find how cold the shelter was when my body wasn’t up against his. I gathered my books and purse and was surprised to find Benny behind me with my mackintosh at the ready. As I slid into it, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

“I’ll walk you. You shouldn’t be out alone after dark.”

But I wanted to be. I needed some time to sort out my thoughts before I saw Pop again. “I’m supposed to meet Pearl at school,” I said.

“Then I’ll walk you there.”

It was obvious he wasn’t going to let me out on my own. He led me from the shelter into the increasingly dark evening. The rain that had pounded the roof all afternoon had started to freeze. I winced as needles of ice hit my face. As I took my first tentative steps onto the sidewalk, I discovered it was slick with sleet. Benny caught my elbow just before I tumbled to the ground.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said as I straightened up.

We slowed our pace and I grasped Benny’s arm to help me keep my balance. Dusk was quickly deepening as the sun set. The streetlights that should’ve clicked on remained dark as part of the mandatory blackout the city was under. Just as we were about to clear the building and cross the street, a voice rang out in the rain, “Benicio!”

Benny turned to the sound and I turned with him. I could just make out an older man waving from the main door to the building.

“Shit,” said Benny under his breath. “What’s he doing up already?”

“Get over here, boy!” said the man. I could feel his temper. Even in the icy downpour it managed to radiate heat.

“Go,” I said. Had the school called Benny’s dad? I hated to think so. After all, if they’d called him they might’ve called Pop, too.

“He’s going to be mad whether I come now or later,” said Benny.

“Go,” I said again.

Reluctantly he released me and trudged toward the door of the building. I watched as he reached his father and the man grabbed him by the ear and pulled him inside. Then I continued on my way before anything else that was my fault escaped into the frozen night.

I trudged homeward on a sidewalk that grew even more slick and treacherous. I did my best to stay steady, but as the sleet fell harder and I grew colder, I picked up my pace and grew less cautious. As I reached my turn, my feet slid out from under me and I landed ass-first on the ground.

The cold seeped through my skirt and stabbed my legs with dozens of tiny pins. I struggled to my feet and cleaned off my backside with a hand, only to find that I’d torn a hole in my skirt when I landed. Try as I might to stay calm, tears forced their way out of my eyes, and by the time I got home I was full-out sobbing.

What I wanted more than anything else in the world was to find Mrs. M. waiting for me with a warm cup of cocoa and a roaring fire. What I got instead was Aunt Miriam.

CHAPTER

10

POP AND UNCLE ADAM STOPPED SPEAKING
right after we moved to the Lower East Side. Things were admittedly tense before then. In the months between Pop’s return from Pearl Harbor and his recovery and rehabilitation, I’d lived with Uncle Adam and Aunt Miriam and tried to maintain the life I’d had before Mama’s death—going to Chapin, hanging out with my wealthy friends on the weekends, and attending synagogue with my decidedly devout aunt and uncle.

Something went wrong, though. Very wrong.

As soon as Pop was well enough to come home, he’d announced that we were moving to the Lower East Side. Within days of our settling into Mrs. M.’s house, Adam and Miriam stopped by with a proposition for him: Pop could work with Uncle Adam at
his
agency for a fifty-fifty split. Pop said no, and that was the last time my uncle ever came around. I had seen Aunt Miriam once since then, and, thanks to her, Pop found out I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. I was awfully steamed when it happened, but given how it caused Pop and me to finally be honest with each other, it probably wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Not that I would ever tell Aunt Miriam that.

“Iris,” Aunt Miriam said as I arrived on the front stoop. “I’m so glad to see you. I rang the bell, but no one answered. I was just getting ready to leave you this.” The “this” in question was a bag of brightly wrapped presents. I would bet my right arm they were Hanukah gifts. “I suppose your father’s not home?”

“I think he’s out on a case,” I said. Odds were good Pop had spied her out the window and decided not to answer the door.

“Have you been crying?” she asked.

I wanted to lie, but after the awful day I’d had, I couldn’t. Not about that, anyway. “I fell on the ice,” I said.

“Oh, you poor thing. I was hoping you were holed up at school until the storm passed.” She looked out on the ice-streaked sidewalk. I hadn’t seen a car go past since I’d left Benny’s. Of course, that wasn’t unusual now that gas and tires were being rationed, but it certainly didn’t bode well for Aunt Miriam making an easy return trip home. She had to be cursing her decision to come out here today. “Are you hurt badly?”

“I’ll be okay,” I said. Here was the thing about Aunt Miriam: I liked her. I’d always liked her. Mama did, too, as a matter of fact. I have no idea how I would’ve survived the first awful months after Mama’s death without her. But I was also fiercely protective of Pop. If he didn’t want to talk to his brother or sister-in-law, I had to believe there was a good reason for it.

But that didn’t mean I was going to send my aunt out into an ice storm. “Would you like to come inside? I could make us some tea or something.”

She nodded, picked up her bag of presents, and followed me in.

I’d been wrong that Pop was hiding inside. The lights were off, the house frigid from the plummeting temperature. I clicked on the lamps, got Aunt Miriam settled in the parlor, and peeked into the kitchen to verify that we were alone.

The phone began to shriek. It was the house line, not the office one, thank goodness. Aunt Miriam wouldn’t exactly be happy if she knew I was working for Pop. I caught the phone on the third ring. The line crackled with static that foretold of an evening without phones at all. I could just make out Pop’s voice, so distant I imagine two tin cans strung together would’ve gotten better reception.

“Iris? You’re home safe?” he asked.

“Safe and sound,” I said.

“Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour. I’m trapped uptown for the time being. I’m not sure when I’ll make it back home. Is Mrs. Mrozenski there?”

“No.”

“She’s probably stranded, too, then. She went to a funeral this afternoon. I’ll see if I can’t track her down and make sure she’s safe. Until she gets there, stay inside. All right?”

I heard music in the background. Wherever he was, he was indoors at least. “Where are you?” I asked.

“Not to worry, I’m at Betty’s apartment. I can stay here for the night if things don’t improve, but I’ll try to make it home if I can.”

“Okay.” He was at Betty’s? The crackling ceased. “Pop?” The line was dead. With it went any possible explanation for why he’d journeyed to Betty Mrozenski’s.

Not that I needed one.

I hung up the phone and put the teakettle on the stove. While I waited for it to whistle, I made a few pieces of toast and spread them with jam.

When I returned to the parlor Aunt Miriam was standing in front of the radio, holding the framed photo of Mama.

“I made us a snack,” I said as I placed the tray of tea and toast on the coffee table.

“That was very kind of you, Iris. Thank you. Was that your father on the phone?”

“Yes, he’s stuck uptown.” Even though her face made no query, I offered an explanation anyway. “He’s at a friend’s, so I guess he has a place to stay if things keep up like this.”

She returned the photo to the radio, turning it so Mama could be included in our conversation. “What happened to the glass?”

Pop broke it one morning, or rather his prosthetic leg did. I thought it was an accident at the time, but now I wondered if he might’ve done it out of frustration for what she’d been involved in. How much did he know? He was a good detective. He had to know at least what I did, though the odds were good that he knew more. “I was goofing around and knocked it over,” I said.

“I wish I’d known; I would’ve gotten you a new frame.” She pushed the bag of presents my way. “Go on and open them.”

There were at least eight packages in the bag, maybe more if she’d brought things for Pop, too. “It’s only the second night of Hanukah,” I said.

“We’ll be a little unorthodox this year. That way I can enjoy you opening things.” As she said it, I could see her eyes scanning the room, looking for a menorah. A little unorthodox was right.

“I … I didn’t get you anything,” I said.

“Nor do you need to. Hanukah is for children. Go on now.”

I picked up the smallest package and peeled away its paper. A small velvet jewelry box was inside. I pried open the clamshell and found a pair of pearl earrings.

“To match your mother’s necklace,” said Aunt Miriam.

“Thank you.” I hadn’t worn Mama’s necklace since I’d tried to pawn it several weeks earlier. I thought Pop needed the money more than I needed the bauble, but my efforts had been waylaid. I’d been grateful at the time—what had I been thinking, trying to get rid of the one memento I had from Mama—but now I found myself itching to get rid of anything associated with her.

I closed the box with one hand, surprised by the force of the hinges. “Thank you.”

“You don’t look very happy with them. I could take them back and get you something else if you like.” She reached for the box.

“No,” I said. “They’re lovely. It’s just…” I tried to think of a good excuse for my mood. Such a nice gift. While Miriam and Adam had money, certainly more than we did, the earrings still felt like a bribe. What was she hoping? That I’d see the gift and tell her Pop was wrong to stop talking to them?

“I don’t really have anyplace to wear them,” I said.

“Not yet, but you will.”

“I mean here, on the Lower East Side. People don’t really dress up.”

She nodded, like the idea hadn’t occurred to her until I’d given it voice. “Life is different for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s not so bad,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about my life now. I wanted to talk about life a year ago but I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. I hadn’t really talked to anyone but Pop about Mama, and up until the night I found the photos our conversations were more about what we didn’t say than what we did. Oh, Aunt Miriam had been there when I’d been told the awful lie about how Mama met her end and held me as I’d cried. And she’d comforted me when my Chapin School friends’ curiosity got the better of them. But beyond telling her how much I missed Mama, I’d never told her how much Mama’s death hurt. When I believed it was suicide that had ripped Mama from us, it was just too inexplicable to put what that loss meant into words. After all, it wasn’t just about Mama dying, but about Mama preferring death to being with me. And Pop.

“Are you still mad at me for that business last month?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I mean, I wasn’t happy about it, but it’s fine.”

“I hope you understand why I did it. I was just so concerned when you told me you were working for your father. I had to know for myself that it wasn’t true.” And it wasn’t.
Then.
Now? What Aunt Miriam didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “And I was so relieved. I knew your father wouldn’t put you in danger like that. Not after—”

“After what?”

She had been caught in something and she knew it. Lying didn’t come easily to her. I knew that. “After your father was injured,” she said. “He must know better than anyone that danger comes when you least expect it.”

Nice one, Aunt Miriam
. “Pop wouldn’t let me get hurt,” I said. “Not physically anyway.” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to register what I was doing.

Her face became a rigid mask of concern. “Has your father said something to upset you?” she asked.

“No. Pop wouldn’t do that. It’s just hard with the anniversaries coming up.”

“I worried about how all of that might affect you.”

“One minute I’m doing fine, but the next minute my mind goes back there. Wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

I hated feeling like I was playing Aunt Miriam, but there was no way to outright ask her anything without tipping my hand. If she didn’t know what Anna Mueller had accused Mama of, I certainly didn’t want to tell her what I’d heard. And if she did … well, it would have to be her choice if she wanted to tell me more. “Why Mama did it,” I said. “She seemed so happy about Pop returning. I just can’t imagine why she’d choose to leave him at a time when he needed her so badly.”

Her lips were set in a thin, straight line, though I swear I caught tiny ripples that hinted there was something she wanted to say.

“Every time I try to justify what might’ve occurred, I just confuse myself, you know?”

“Maybe it’s best not to think about it at all,” said Miriam.

“But I can’t help it. Don’t you wonder why she did it?”

Again there was a ripple of hesitation. “No. There’s no point in doing that, Iris.”

She wasn’t going to budge. If she knew something—and I was almost certain she did—she had no intention of letting me in on it. “I hate her,” I said.

“You don’t mean that.”

“It’s unforgivable what she did, not just in our eyes but in God’s.” I was pushing all the right buttons and I knew it.

“You shouldn’t judge your mother.”