Invisible Ellen (8 page)

“Keening,” Temerity said with decision. “It's called keening, and it's something people usually only do when someone they really love dies.” Her voice's resonance thinned as she said this, as though it were a sound to be envious of, instead of hard to hear.

“That's what I thought,” Ellen said. Then, because there wasn't much more to say on the other subject, she asked a question because she'd been curious. “Why don't you take Runt with you when you go out?”

Temerity threw her head back and laughed so loudly that several heads turned, mouths tightened in skeptical suspicion, then,
detecting no threat, the mouths relaxed and the heads dismissed the outburst. “Runt's a few paw lengths short of a service dog. Love him to death, but he's not the brightest canine in the kennel. A well-trained Labrador would help me find the right bus—Runt would drag me to my death chasing it.”

“Why does he chase buses?” Ellen asked.

“I don't know. But Justice said he almost caught one once.”

Ellen wondered what he would have done with it if he had. She had a momentary image of the huge black shaggy head with a bus hanging limp and wounded from its jaws. “What kind of dog is he?” Ellen asked. Not that she would know one type from another.

“Giant schnauzer. Or a big chunk of him is anyway. He came from the pound, so his heritage is a bit dubious.”

Like me,
thought Ellen.
Dubious heritage, and from a kind of pound.
She was surprised that it had never occurred to her before that the foster care system was similar to a no-kill animal shelter, unwanted pets hoping endlessly for an adoption that would likely never come. “Oh,” was all she could think to say.

“And you have a cat, you said?” Temerity asked.

“Yeah, Mouse.”

“Great name for a cat.” Temerity grinned. “Why did you pick that?”

“Because he just came in my house through a broken window and started eating a plate of hash I had left on the counter, and when I tried to get rid of him, he kept coming back, like a rodent. So finally I just got him some food and a bowl, and now he won't leave. I almost named him Pest.”

Temerity chuckled. “You're funny, Ellen. I like your sense of humor.”

This gave Ellen pause because she'd never thought she had a sense
of humor. She realized now, though, that even if she did, she hadn't really had the opportunity to find out. Humor for one has its limits. “Our transfer is coming up,” she said, and then tested the new theory. “Next stop, ottomans and recliners.”

“Listen to you!” Temerity said, jabbing her again in the ribs. “You're a regular stand-up comic. We should get you an agent.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” Ellen said gravely, and for some reason that made Temerity laugh harder.

They switched buses, and it was only a short ride to the mall. When they got out, Temerity reached out and took Ellen's arm. “Okay, let's go,” she said, folding her stick.

The strangeness of not only walking with another but of having that person rely on her had Ellen in a sweat of anxiety, but it was so second nature to Temerity that by the time they had entered the warmth of the shopping megalith, Ellen wasn't exactly comfortable but she had gotten used to her discomfort. They found the store and made their way to the furniture department.

Then came the problem of identifying the sister. This was something they hadn't considered, and they hovered near the lamps discussing it.

“We can't ask for her by name,” Temerity said. “I mean, how would that sound? ‘Hi, are you Janelle? We intercepted a deeply personal letter you wrote to someone else, read it, and now we've come to intrude on your private life'?”

“Not good,” Ellen agreed, more for her personal reasons than the dubious propriety of the thing.

“Downright stalker. But we could ask to speak to the manager, if we had a good excuse.”

Ellen had never bought anything from a department store in her life. Just being there was as unfamiliar to her as space travel, and she
could never have done it without Temerity beside her. The furniture she possessed had come with the sad apartment or been discarded on the street close enough to her house for her to carry it up herself. There was a secondhand store not far from her apartment where she had, on occasion, bought a necessary pot or lamp, but it was a depressed, crowded place and the people who worked there were so used up that there was nothing left for banter with the barely civilized clientele, so she could slink in and out unnoticed. Thinking of an excuse to speak to the manager in this fancy retail palace was beyond her realm of experience or courage.

“I know,” Temerity said suddenly, startling Ellen out of her apprehensive stupor, “I'll say I'm in the market for a rug or some such, and I need someone to help me. Then I can ask for a handicapped discount and that's sure to bring the manager. Nobody wants to tell a blind chick she has to pay full price. I have no idea why. Thoughts on that?”

Not wanting to say that they probably felt sorry for her, because the entire idea of feeling sorry for this exceptional person was frankly asinine, Ellen just mumbled a negative.

“Just point me in the right direction.” Temerity prepped for the mission by unfolding her stick. “You go sit down somewhere and watch carefully. I need you to tell me what you see. Okay?”

Ellen was fully amenable to any plan that removed her from the action at the front. There was one thing she knew about Sam's sister, but it wasn't something that would help Temerity, so she turned the girl in the direction of the sales desk and went to sit on the corner of a coffee table in the “as-is” discount section that was partially hidden by a support post.

Temerity clicked along until she came to the sales counter. There was no one there, but a man seated at a design desk noticed her and
rose, coming forward with a big smile. When he spotted the stick, the smile sort of froze, drooped, and then seemed to give up, as if it were thinking,
What's the point?

“May I help you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Temerity said brightly. “I'm looking for a rug, and as much as I'd like to pick it by softness, my brother, who lives with me, might be upset if I come home with something that jars his delicate sensibilities.”

“I see,” said the man, and then realized his faux pas. “I mean, of course I can help you.” He repeatedly stole looks at Temerity's well-shaped chest. Then it apparently occurred to him that there was no need for subtlety, so he went ahead and leered. There was a smirk on his face that Ellen would like to have wiped off with a stout two-by-four. “What size rug are you looking for?”

“Big, really, really big.” Temerity screwed up her face. “I live in a loft. And here's the thing”—she leaned in and stage-whispered—“I'll be needing the handicapped discount.”

“The . . . what?” The salesman was so surprised that his eyes rebounded up from Temerity's breasts to her face.

“You know, I get most stuff for half off. That's not a problem, is it?” She assumed, quite suddenly, a vulnerable and lost expression. Ellen was impressed.

“I'm not sure we have that policy here at Macy's,” he said, clearly flustered. “I'll have to ask my manager.”

“Great, you do that, and if you could show me the rugs, I'll let my fingers do some walking.”

The man touched her arm and directed her awkwardly to the rugs, then hurried away toward a door in the back.

Ellen shifted her position to get a better perspective. Temerity was now by a huge rack of suspended carpets that swung, fanlike, so that
customers could consider each one with a minimum of effort. She was running her hands over each as she flipped through them like a vertical Rolodex.

From the back came a striking woman in her early thirties.
That's her,
Ellen thought
,
recognizing her immediately as Sam's sister. Ellen had watched Sam and Cindy together in Cindy's apartment for many long happy hours. Like her brother's, the sister's skin was black, luxuriously dark, rich and saturated. Her hair was plaited into tiny, long braids that had been twisted up on top of her head. She was tall, like the brother, and slim, but unlike him, she walked with a limp, a slight up-and-down addition to her forward gait, which was still remarkably smooth, and Ellen realized that one leg was shorter than the other. She wondered if the quirk was the result of an accident or an accident of birth. Either way, it added a rhythm to her stride that Ellen admired.

“Hello, I'm Janelle. May I help you?” she asked, looking directly at Temerity with the same respect Ellen felt sure she would give any person, seeing or non.

“Oh, hi.” Temerity stuck out her hand. “Yes, I'm looking for a rug, but I need a little help, as you can see, because I can't.” She laughed. “That just never gets old.”

“My salesman told me you were asking for a discount?” Janelle said smoothly without even a paprika sprinkling of patronizing.

“Well, sometimes I get one. It seems only fair. You make this stuff so that it looks good, right? I mean, contemporary design and whatnot?”

“Contemporary and traditional. We keep a wide selection in stock.”

“But I can't appreciate that aspect, so, it being lost on me, I don't really like to pay for it.”

Janelle studied her for a moment and then broke into a grin. “I understand. That seems reasonable, but our rugs are also designed for function and comfort. I assume you can appreciate those things.”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Temerity agreed. “I'm all about cozy.”

“Well, let's see if we can set you up with something that will work for you. Do you live in the area?”

“No, I live in midtown, but I heard you had good deals here.”

“That we do. Maybe if you give me your price range, we can start there. I don't have a specific discount for what you are describing—maybe we should, I'll bring it up at the next corporate meeting—but in the meantime, we have several nice pieces on clearance that might suit the situation perfectly.”

“You mean they're cheap because they're ugly and no one else wanted them?”

Janelle laughed out loud now. “Some of them
are
pretty ugly. Don't tell my boss I said that. But I wouldn't sell you one of those. There are several that are terrific, just been here long enough to have been discounted. Besides,” she lowered her voice, “you'd be surprised what some people consider stylish. We'll get a piece in and I'll think, ‘That's the tackiest thing I've ever seen.' And sure enough, it'll sell like hotcakes.”

“I'm sure I would be horrified,” Temerity agreed warmly. “Not that I know from tacky, unless it's the sticky kind, but I've heard a good bit about it. That's one of the advantages of being blind—ugliness doesn't offend.” She sighed loudly. “I guess that's why my dreams of becoming a graffiti artist were never realized.”

“A great loss to the metropolitan area, I'm sure,” Janelle said, matching her humor.

“Fortunately, I've been luckier in my pursuit to become an air traffic controller.”

Janelle laughed out loud at that.

“I like you,” Temerity announced. “Listen, maybe it's better if I come back another day and bring my brother in with me. He's one of those seeing people, and sometimes he gets persnickety if I bring home some objet d'art that jars the functioning retinae. I just happened to be here and thought I would stop in. Would it be all right if I asked for you?”

“Please do,” Janelle said. “Let me give you one of my cards. Sorry it's not in Braille—I'll bring that up to corporate as well—but it should work for your brother's retinae.”

Temerity held her hand out flat and Janelle placed the card in it. “Thanks,” Temerity said, pocketing the card. “You've been more helpful than you know, and I mean that. It's nice to meet someone who doesn't feel sorry for me.” Ellen smiled. So Temerity did know why people acted differently around her, and that it was stupid.

Ellen watched Janelle's mouth twist slightly into a wry smile, but there was no mockery in it. “Why would I do that? You seem like you have more going for you than most. And remember, everyone has strong points and weaknesses.”

“What are yours?” Temerity asked bluntly.

Janelle looked taken aback but recovered quickly and seemed to seriously consider the question before she answered. “For strengths, family and faith that good will prevail.” Her eyes clouded and a shadow passed over her face, but it was quickly dismissed. “And for weakness, I'd have to say . . . mobility.”

“So you're more the turtle than the hare.”

“You know what they say, slow and steady wins the race.”

“Good thing too!” Temerity exclaimed. “'Cause I can run like the wind, but solid objects happen.” They both laughed, said good-bye,
and Temerity reversed her way back toward Ellen, who slipped up beside her in the mattress section.

“How'd she look?” Temerity asked.

“Good, she seemed nice.” Ellen paused and then added, “Strong, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. You mean strong enough to lend strength to someone else.” She sighed. “Not everyone is, you know. I like her,” Temerity said with finality, and Ellen could not disagree. “I say we pass on the letter. How about you?”

Like a hamster in a clear ball, Ellen preferred to be protected and distanced from the world around her as she rolled steadily along, and she wasn't sure she wanted it to matter what she thought. But Temerity had been the kick that sent her spinning, and, even as dizzy as she was, Ellen knew that Temerity was right, and she instinctively liked Janelle.

“Okay,” she breathed, and with an effort she started forward in her little plastic shell, only now, Temerity was along for the ride.

Or maybe, and Ellen suspected that this was more likely, it was the other way around.