1929 (13 page)

“Is it true what they been sayin’ bout you
and your friends?” Jonathan looked up at him.

“What who’s been saying?” he asked, confused
and sounding uninterested.

“That you’re a bunch of rich boys turned
poor. Lost it all when the market took a dive last week. Now you’re
tryin’ to be one o' us.” Jonathan grimaced at the insensitive and
boorish man standing before him.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said looking
away, wishing Caleb was here. He had a way with people and would
handle this confrontation with more tact than Jonathan could manage
right now.

“Well, don’t think that you’re gonna get
treated special, or you can get away with slacking off. I don’t
care how much money you had, you gotta pull your own weight round
here,” he said with fictitious authority. He walked away without
waiting for a response. Not that Jonathan was about to give him
one. He added coping with the resentment of the poor toward the
rich, the previously rich in his case, to his ever-long list of
adverse working conditions. He looked up at the dark clouds
threatening rain. He stared at the churning sky, astounded at how a
life could change so drastically and so quickly.

∞∞∞

Claire glanced at Ava, noticing her slightly
puffy eyes but didn’t say anything. They sat at Arianna’s table,
which she had arranged with the letter paper, pens, envelopes,
little desert cakes and flowers.

“I have no idea how we’re going to discreetly
inform our families of our situation without too much
embarrassment. Anybody have any idea how to start?” Arianna
asked.

“With honesty,” Claire said.

“No need to put perfume on a pig.” Ava
laughed lightly.

“But people might think we’re looking for
sympathy or charity. I can’t have family thinking I’m looking for a
handout,” she said firmly. Ava didn’t feel like debating with
Arianna about what was and what was not charity. She was still
fatigued from her crying jag that had lasted most of the morning.
Claire looked at Arianna with irritation.

“If it’s family, it’s not a handout, and
we’re not asking for any help. Why don’t you focus on asking them
how they are? You can drop subtleties about your own situation
throughout, without outright saying anything.”

“Claire is right. You should be honest,” Ava
spoke up. “Hiding behind niceties and false perceptions isn’t going
to do any good for them or you. I plan to inform Jonathan’s parents
exactly how desperate our situation is. I won’t ask for it outright
but, if they offer help, I’ll take it. I’m not too proud,” she said
and started her letter. They spent the majority of the afternoon
working on their letters until they were satisfied enough with the
wording.

The evening went much the same as the
previous with Jonathan falling asleep shortly after dinner, Aryl
lost in his thoughts trying to piece together a plan, and Caleb
going out to buy dinner from the deli. Again.

November 3rd 1929

“You’re alive,” Ava joked, getting up to hug
Jonathan. It hurt to lift his arms to hug her back, so he settled
for a kiss on the neck. They had slept late on Sunday. When
Jonathan emerged from the bedroom, it was after one o’clock in the
afternoon.

“Yeah, but I slept half-way through my only
day off,” he scoffed. “I’m starving. What do we have around here?”
he asked, looking toward the small kitchen.

“Go sit. I’ll make you something.”

She made him a large bowl of oatmeal with
fried bread on the side. “My aunt and I used to have this often. I
had forgotten all about it until yesterday,” she said, sitting down
close beside him. “The oatmeal gets old after a while, but I’ll
pick up some jam to flavor it. And you’ll love the butter-fried
bread. It’s wonderful.” He dug in without answering, not
remembering ever being this hungry. If he’d taken the time to taste
it, he would have remembered that he really didn’t like oatmeal.
However, he did like the fried bread and asked for seconds.

“What do you want to do today?” she asked as
she put thick slices of butter-laden bread in the frying pan.

“I don’t know. I honestly didn’t expect to
wake up, so I didn’t make any plans.”

“Jonathan, that’s not funny.”

“I’d really just like to relax. Maybe we
could start a fire and read.”

Well, that’s a start anyway, she thought.
Jonathan painfully trudged downstairs to buy another armload of
firewood. It was cold, and the gas furnace could barely keep the
chill off. He started the fire and ate a third helping of fried
bread. Then he settled on the couch with his arm around Ava, who
curled up beside him. He took the book and began reading where he
left off on Halloween. The wind howled outside, rattled the broken
windowpane, and rain pecked at the glass. With her head on his
chest, Jonathan absentmindedly rubbed Ava’s arm but stopped quickly
when the blisters on his hand snagged on the material of her
sweater. Ava causally placed her hand on Jonathan’s knee, left it
still for a moment, then drew small circles with her finger very
slowly up his leg. He noticed her feather light touch when it
reached mid-thigh, stopped reading, and glanced down at her. She
looked up at him with a shy but devious smile.

“Ava,” he hesitated. Her eyes dropped from
his, and she recoiled, feeling slightly rejected. “It’s not you,
Ava.” She nodded without making eye contact. “No, I swear, it’s not
you. I just don’t know if I can. You have no idea how badly my
entire body hurts. My arms feel like lead. I’m not sure I have the
strength.” He nudged her to look up at him. “I couldn’t bear to
start something I was unable to finish,” he assured her.

“Is that all?” she asked with one eyebrow
raised. “You’re sure that’s the only reason?”

“Yes. I swear to you.” She thought for a
moment, steeling herself against possible rebuff and raised her
head again more boldly than she had ever dared, craned her neck to
kiss him and began pulling his white t-shirt up over his chest. He
moved quickly to hold her wrist.

“Ava,” he whispered, clearly tormented and
trying to pull her hand away. She clutched a fistful of his t-shirt
and refused to let go.

“You may be hurting too badly to hold
yourself up, but I’m not.” His eyes widened slightly as she
continued to push his shirt up and moved herself over him. Stunned
by her overt demands, he grinned his approval.

After a brief but intense encounter, Ava lay
on his chest, her face hidden in his neck and drifted off to sleep
while he ran the back of his fingers up and down the length of her
bare back. A hard knock at the door shook them both from their
serene respite.

“Well, I guess the timing could have been
worse,” Jonathan said with a sly grin. “It’s probably Aryl. He
mentioned yesterday that he needed to talk to me about something.”
Ava groggily lifted herself from Jonathan’s chest and reached for
her dress, which hung off the corner of the fireplace mantel. “Do
you know where my pants are?” Jonathan looked around, amused. He
found them by the door and slipped them on with difficulty in
bending his sore legs.

He was still smiling when he opened the door
but dropped it quickly as his serene afternoon shattered in an
instant.

“What are you doing here, Victor?” he
growled.

Victor stood in the doorway with a malicious
smile, looking Jonathan up and down. He was shirtless with wrinkled
pants, messy hair and still unshaven for the day. Jonathan was
immediately self-conscious of his appearance and angry that he
should even care for a moment what Victor thought of him. “I said,
what you are doing here?” Jonathan repeated. Victor held up a few
sheets of paper.

“Your paperwork is missing some information.”
He glared at Jonathan. “Under ‘current employer’, you didn’t write
anything down. You do have a job, don’t you, Jonathan?” he asked,
enjoying this completely.

“Yes, I do,” Jonathan said through his teeth,
holding his hand out for the paperwork. Victor looked slightly
disappointed.

“I brought a pen,” Victor offered with false
politeness. “Didn’t know if you still owned one,” he said, glancing
toward the barren apartment. Jonathan’s blood boiled as he filled
out the details of the job he detested. He shoved the paperwork
back at Victor and started to close the door.

“Do your friends work at the shipping dock
with you?” Victor asked, looking over the paper.

“Yes. And I’m sure you know where they live,
so you can verify that,” Jonathan scowled.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to bother them on a
Sunday afternoon.” He looked up at Jonathan with a smirk. “I’ll
just fill in their paperwork back at the office. Give Ava my
regards, will you?” He oozed with phony politeness.

Jonathan slammed the door, furious and
humiliated. He turned to see Ava standing in the bedroom doorway
with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He dropped his head and
sighed. This wasn’t how he wanted her to find out.

“Tell me that wasn’t who I think it was.”

He walked over and reached for her hand, but
she jerked it away.

“I was going to tell you, Ava. I was just
waiting for the right time.”

“The right time?” she mocked. “You should
have told me from the start!”

“I know. But there was so much happening . .
. I didn’t want to give you that to worry about, too, on top of
everything else,” he pleaded.

“Why would you do this, Jonathan? How could
you rent from him? Of all the places! You know almost better than I
do what a horrible person he is! Why would you purposefully…” She
stared at him. He sighed and winced as he attempted to raise his
hands to rest them on top of his head.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Ava. I didn’t
seek this out. Caleb was in charge of looking for a place to live,
remember? He went to several places, and no one had anything
available. Not anything we could afford, anyway.” She shook her
head angrily and tears filled her eyes.

“No. No, this city is enormous. There are
thousands of apartments. You could have told Caleb no. You could
have kept looking the next day, the next week if you needed
to!”

“And risk having the auctioneers show up and
take the very chair out from under you! I had to get you out of
there fast, so you wouldn’t have to see that. Watch people take
everything we owned. I couldn’t stand to watch that. Could you,
Ava?” Ava’s fists balled up at her sides, and her face
reddened.

“I would rather have watched them take and
sell everything we owned than to have to live here under his thumb!
How can you stand that, Jonathan?” she screamed at him.

“Damn it, Ava! I didn’t have a choice!” he
screamed back. She took a step back and slammed the bedroom door in
his face. He stood for a moment, in disbelief of what just
happened. They hardly ever fought and had never screamed or slammed
doors. He knocked on the door after a moment.

“Ava, let me in, honey,” he said in a kinder
tone, his forehead on the door.

“Go away!” she screamed, and he jerked back
slightly when something hit the other side of the door. He sighed
in frustration and sat on the couch, dropping his head in his
hands. He had never shouted like that, nor had she ever yelled at
him. He began to wonder if this small part of their miserable
situation could have been avoided. Maybe they could have taken one
more day to look. Maybe the bank would have waited a day or two.
Madness was happening and no one knew which way was up. They might
have had more time. Maybe even a week. Maybe he should have kept
walking that day and told Caleb to go to hell. After all, Victor
wasn’t going to bother him. Suddenly, he was furious as he mulled
over the possibilities.

“Dammit!” He stormed out of his apartment
before he could think rationally and stomped down the hall to bang
on Caleb’s door. Caleb opened it, much the way Jonathan had
answered his door, moments ago.

“Do you know who just showed up at my door,
Caleb?” Jonathan seethed.

“No, who?”

“Victor. Victor Drayton just showed up at my
door.” Caleb rubbed his forehead, his eyes squinting as if in pain
for his friend.

“What did he want?”

“Does it really matter, Caleb? Honestly, does
it matter? He found a reason to come to my door and taunt me. And
he’ll find another and another, until I lose my mind.” He turned,
took two steps, then turned back to face Caleb. “Exactly how many
places did you go to, Caleb, to look for apartments?”

“Several before Victor,” he said
cautiously.

“And you honestly couldn’t find anything
else? You couldn’t think of any other agencies to go to. You got a
few ‘no’ answers and just gave up and went to Victor.” Caleb
started to realize that Jonathan hadn’t come here to vent to a
friend. He was actually mad at him. Caleb folded his arms and
narrowed his eyes.

“What are you getting at, Jon?”

“I’m getting at the fact that you were the
one to go to him and set all this up. But you don’t have to deal
with that bastard. So, it didn’t really matter who you went to, did
it? Did you ever stop to think how this would affect me? Or
Ava?”

“Of course, I did, Jon. I didn’t take going
to him lightly. I knew it would be hard on you, but our backs were
against the wall. We had to move fast. We talked about all this at
your house the night before.”

“We never talked about going to Victor.”
Jonathan clenched his teeth.

“We had no choice, Jon.”

“That’s not true and you know it. We could
have stayed a couple more days. You could have thought this through
better, found a better place to live.”

“I guess we could have stayed a couple more
days and risked being thrown out on our asses without warning. Not
to mention watching the auction house pick through our things. How
hard would that have been on Ava?” Jonathan didn’t have anything to
say immediately but pointed a finger at Caleb.