In the Unlikely Event (5 page)

“Where are they now?”

He hesitated. “They moved away.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yes, I do.”

They pulled up to Miri’s house. “Thanks for the ride,” she called, getting out of the car.

“My pleasure, Miss Mirabelle.”

Dr. O was everyone’s favorite, which is why Miri couldn’t help wishing she had a father just like him. Somewhere Miri had a father but she didn’t know where. What kind of guy leaves his seventeen-year-old pregnant girlfriend and never even sees his baby?

She’d asked Rusty more than once when she was little, “Where is my daddy? Who is my daddy?”

She could tell, even then, Rusty wasn’t going to answer that question.

Elizabeth Daily Post

JOY TO THE WORLD

DEC. 15—The blanket of snow dumped on Elizabeth over the past two days seems not to have deterred bundle-laden shoppers. With Christmas lights strung across streets, stores gaily decorated for the season, and the ever-present sound of carols, shoppers seemed bent on proving they could have a good time no matter what the weather.

Leaving their cars behind because of dangerous driving conditions, they waited last night for buses downtown on Broad Street, contributing to the heavy burden already placed on public transportation during and after Friday’s snowstorm.

“It’s Christmas,” said Myrtle Carter, trying to balance her packages while keeping track of two young children. “Joy to the world, and all that.”

2

Miri

Sunday was frigid, gray and windy. At Newark Airport a new low of six degrees was recorded at 7 a.m. But Miri, asleep in her bed under a puffy quilt, didn’t give two figs about the weather. She was dreaming of the mystery boy she’d danced with last night. She was good at that, at deciding what she’d dream about, then doing it.

When her alarm went off at 8 a.m. she reached out and turned it off. She threw on her robe and hustled to the kitchen where she prepared two eggs boiled exactly three minutes, dark rye toast slathered with butter, fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee with real cream and two sugars. She decorated the tray with a paper doily
and a flower plucked from the arrangement on the hall table, a gift from Rusty’s boss and his wife. Her mother’s real name was Naomi, but because of her auburn hair, which was long and thick, everyone called her Rusty. People turned to stare when she walked by, as if maybe she was a movie star. Too bad Miri didn’t get her mother’s hair or her green eyes. Nobody stared when she walked by.

When she presented the breakfast tray, Rusty acted all surprised, like she’d forgotten it was her birthday. Miri thought about the bed jackets displayed at Nia’s. If she had had the money she’d have bought one so Rusty could have breakfast in bed in style on her birthday.

“That was delicious,” Rusty said when she’d finished her breakfast.

Miri held out the gift from Nia’s Lingerie.

“Breakfast in bed
and
a present?” Rusty said. “Should I open it?”

Miri nodded. What else would you do with a present?

Rusty untied the ribbon and rolled it up, then carefully removed the wrapping paper, so it could be reused. Finally she opened the box and pulled out the half-slip. “This is exactly what I wanted!”

She sounded as if she meant it. Miri was pleased.

“And in navy,” Rusty said. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s nylon tricot,” Miri told her. “And if it’s the wrong size you can exchange it.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Rusty said, reaching for Miri. She hugged her and gave her a forehead kiss.

“You’re welcome, Mom.”

After Miri cleaned up the kitchen, she decided she’d finish her homework so she wouldn’t have to do it later, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open, so she climbed back into bed and snuggled under the covers.

Ruby

Ruby sat on the stool at the counter at Hanson’s Drug Store on Fifty-first Street and Seventh Avenue in New York City, savoring a scrumptious strawberry ice cream soda topped with whipped cream, chopped nuts and a Maraschino cherry. She saved the cherry for last. When she bit into it, Jimmy, the soda jerk, said, “You’re not supposed to eat those things.”

“Why not?”

“They’re for decoration. Too many of them will kill you.”

“But just one will make you happy, right?”

“If you say so.”

Hanson’s was a celebrity hangout where Ruby was sometimes recognized—not that she minded—and where she often chatted with other entertainers, many of them famous, way more famous than her. But on this Sunday morning it was quiet, probably because of the miserable weather. She’d been a morning guest on WJZ, broadcast from Howie’s Restaurant on Sixth Avenue between Fifty-second and Fifty-third, and from there she’d walked over to Hanson’s. So what if she ordered an ice cream soda before lunch? Who was going to tell her she couldn’t have exactly what she wanted? Being the only customer gave her the chance to flirt with Jimmy, a Broadway gypsy who worked behind the soda fountain between shows. Jeez, he was so cute. Once upon a time Ruby and Jimmy had shared a backstage kiss. But it never went any further. Ruby knew better than to fall for a dancer. Besides, she’d heard he liked boys as much as girls.

Anyway, she was romantically involved with Danny Thomas’s brother Paul now. She didn’t know yet if it was going to turn into something more serious or not. Her mother was always nagging, “Get married while you still have your looks, Ruby. And for god’s sake, marry up. Having money beats the dickens out of being poor.”

As if Ruby didn’t know. Sorry, Mom, but she was nowhere near ready for marriage. She had a career to think about. And she expected to have her looks for a long time. Her agent was trying to get her on Ed Sullivan. He thought she had a good shot. A movie musical wouldn’t hurt, either. Maybe Danny Thomas would put her in his next picture. Nothing wrong with pulling a few strings while she was dating his brother.

“What time’s your plane, babe?” Jimmy asked.

“Last time I checked it was two hours late.” She looked down at the watch Paul had given her for her birthday, a pink-gold Bulova. The tiny hands told her it was almost ten-thirty. “Oops, I’m supposed to be at the airport before noon,” she said, collecting her things and paying for the ice cream soda.

Jimmy leaned in to give her a goodbye kiss on her cheek. At the last second she turned her face so his kiss landed on her lips, surprising him.

“Mmm…strawberry…” Jimmy said, licking his lips, making Ruby laugh. “Have a good trip, babe, and come back soon.”

“You know I will.” Ruby blew him a flirty kiss.

Ruby loved to travel. Give her an airline ticket and she’d be on the next plane. She liked staying at hotels, where someone made the bed for her every day and brought her clean towels. Even when the hotels were less than classy, even when they were on the sleazy side, which was often, she still liked being on the road.

Miri

Just before noon Rusty found Miri still asleep in her bed. She shook her gently. “Come on, honey…get up! Let’s go to an early show at the Elmora.”

Miri rolled over but didn’t open her eyes.

“Hurry or we’re going to miss it.”

Being the only child meant Miri was often her mother’s companion. And if Rusty wanted to go to the movies today, she’d go with her. After all, it was her birthday. Miri threw on dungarees, a turtleneck, a heavy sweater over that and thick white socks. She tied her saddle shoes, ran the toothbrush over her teeth, not bothering to brush up and down the way Dr. Osner had taught her, pulled her hair back sloppily and got into her winter jacket, mittens, red and black striped Rutgers scarf and fuzzy earmuffs.

Miri and Rusty walked the mile up to the Elmora Theater. No bright winter sun today. Just gray sky and freezing cold. Until this year Miri could still get into the movies for a quarter, but not anymore. This was both good and bad. Good because she looked older, bad because she had to pay full price for a ticket. She’d be the first of her friends to turn fifteen, the age at which she was sure life would fall into place and at least some of her dreams would come true, starting with the
strange enchanted boy
from last night’s party.

At the concession stand Rusty bought a Milky Way for Miri, not
bothering to ask if Miri had had a proper breakfast, which she hadn’t, and a box of Goobers for herself. “What the heck,” Rusty said to Little Mary, who worked behind the counter, “it’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday, hon,” Little Mary said. “I’d give you a soda on the house but then I’d be fired.”

The 12:30 show was a double feature. First,
You Never Can Tell
, with Dick Powell and Peggy Dow. A dog dies and is reincarnated into a private eye. Rusty loved screwball comedies. Miri preferred her movies torrid and dark. The feature attraction was
Across the Wide Missouri
, with Clark Gable. Halfway through Rusty leaned over and said, “Time to go. We have to change for dinner.” Now Miri would never find out what happened to Clark Gable or his Indian wife.

Ruby

At Newark Airport the Miami Airlines plane was delayed again with no explanation. No wonder Dana had tried to dissuade her from taking the non-scheduled flight to Tampa, then Miami. “Non-skeds are unreliable,” Dana said.

Ruby argued how much cheaper this flight was than the others. Really, what was the difference? An airplane is an airplane. It gets you where you want to go. So non-skeds don’t have a regular schedule like a train or a bus. Who cares? Besides, she was impatient. The sooner she got to Florida, the better. She’d been dreaming of balmy beaches and soft moonlit nights. She couldn’t wait to get away from this awful weather. So what if she had to wait another hour or two?

She took a seat in the departure lounge, adjusted her skirt and pulled the book she was reading from her oversize purse, glad she had a gripping mystery to distract her. She was aware of the glances coming her way, at the sight of a pretty girl reading
I, the Jury
, by Mickey Spillane, known for his racy language, but Ruby didn’t give a hoot. Let them look. Let them stare. It was nothing to her.

Across from her an older couple were talking in voices loud enough for her to hear. The wife said, “You have a long drive. You should get going, and don’t forget to pick up my Voluptés from Irene Ammerman. You remember where she lives?”

He said, “I’m not leaving until I see you on the plane.”

“That’s sweet, Ben, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes sense to me.”

She laughed. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Me, you’re calling me a romantic?”

“Maybe not every day but when it counts.”

He laughed and kissed her.

She said, “Ben, people can see…”

“So? I’m not allowed to kiss my wife in public after thirty-five years?”

Ruby smiled to herself. She couldn’t remember a time when her parents kidded around that way.

“Excuse me,” a young man said, “but is anyone sitting here?”

Ruby sighed and moved her bag, meant to discourage other passengers from sitting next to her. He sat down, hoping to start up a conversation, she could tell.

“My mother thinks I’m driving to Florida,” he said, “either that or taking the train. I have six brothers. Every one of us served overseas. I’m the youngest.”

“I thought there was a rule about not allowing all the sons in a family to serve.”

“Well, they took us. We wanted to serve. And we all came back.” He smiled at her. “What about you?”

She didn’t feel like telling him she was a dancer. So she said, “My fiancé is in Miami. He was in the war, too. I’m going down for the holidays to stay with him and his family.” The look on his face said it all. Surprise and disappointment. After all, she wasn’t wearing a ring. She felt bad. He seemed like a nice boy but there was no point. “I’ll bet you’ll have a great time in Miami,” she said.

“Do you have any single friends there?” he asked. “Maybe your fiancé has a sister?”

“No, sorry. But I’m sure you won’t have any trouble meeting girls. You’re a very nice-looking young man.”

“Not so young. I’ll be twenty-five on my next birthday.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“How about you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger, of course.”

She laughed. “Of course.”

“I’m Paul Stefanelli, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Ruby Granik,” she told him, letting him shake hers.

“How’s the book, Ruby?” He nodded at the book on her lap.

“Can’t put it down,” she said. “So if you’ll excuse me…”

“Sure. I get it.” He got up and wandered away.

Leah

Leah Cohen was hoping Henry Ammerman would pop the question soon, maybe over the holidays. She was going to his house later today to celebrate his sister Rusty’s birthday. Henry’s mother sold Volupté compacts wholesale. A girl could never have too many Voluptés. She’d probably get a few from the mothers of the children in her second-grade class. Last year she did. They sure beat fruitcakes, which she gave away, or bad perfume, which she poured down the toilet.