maybe they have no idea. She sounds fine on the telephone.”
“You’re not listening to me, Jenny.” Eva pulled at her. “You have to promise me, promise me.”
The unrecognizable woman was slowly taking on some resemblance to the sister Jenny knew. Underneath the moon face, the hair, and the squinty eyes, Eva was emerging.
“I am, I will,” Jenny said, and burst into tears. “I promise. I’m sorry we worried you, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again.”
“Am I going crazy, or what?” Flora said, and turned her full attention to Eva. “Now calm down, Eva. Jenny wasn’t on the thruway. Jenny wasn’t here this morning. We aren’t late. We came exactly when we said we would. Nobody was walking on the thruway—”
In the normal voice Jenny remembered, Eva said, “Don’t you tell me to calm down, little sister. Keep in mind that I was diapering you before you could say Mama.” And turning once again to Jenny, she beckoned in a wide embrace and Jenny was in the arms of the Eva she loved, sane, accepting, generous Eva.
“Oh, Jenny darling, it’s so wonderful to see you, so wonderful of you to come. I can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Well, am I de trop or something around here?” Flora, sulky. “Shall I make myself scarce? Would you two like to be alone?”
But Flora’s sisters weren’t listening to her.
Jenny seized on the fleeting argument with Flora to check into a run-down place a few blocks north of Flora’s condominium. She was lucky. A couple had unexpectedly moved out of an efficiency apartment on the second floor overlooking the ocean. One room, big bed, a couch, an armchair, all in matching dim stripes, a mongrel bedside piece, a dresser, a table and two chairs, a kitchen, so to speak, a little foyer, then a bathroom. Terrible lighting, some overhead, some lamps. Two doors: entrance from an inner court balcony with a view of some dismal shrubbery, two small, odd-shaped swimming pools, and a funky bar-restaurant with a couple of indoor and outdoor tables; the other door out to a tiny balcony that gave on the sea, a compensation so large it made the rest acceptable.
She was exhausted. She collapsed on a deck chair, wrapped in the moist hot wind, in the mystery of dark heaving water and the whiteness of the breaking waves on the shoreline. She fell into one of those quick naps peculiar to the old and awoke to painful discomfort and a wild disorientation. Where in the world was she?
In Theirami. She was up to her neck in Theirami. That came clear to her after a few moments. She got up, left the sea behind her, drew the blinds against the courtyard lights, turned off the air conditioning, and opened a window. She unpacked. She hadn’t unpacked at Flora’s. She turned away from the reality of their swift quarrel. Of course Flora would have made up, but Jenny had held tight to the quarrel, using it as an excuse to come to this seedy refuge to be alone. No sin. No harm done. She forgave herself. Take a lesson from Charles forgiving the dotty old ladies for carrying their belongings around with them.
She set her traveling clock on the night-stand/bookcase/desk next to her bed. It was only eight-thirty. She turned on the TV, surfed until she found a Seinfeld repeat. Just what the doctor ordered. She watched and laughed, and laughed again. Then laughed at herself unpacking her green carryall. Medications. CDs. All her good jewelry. As dotty as the rest of them. Why hadn’t she left her jewelry home? And the CDs? Not safe. Or in her bank deposit box? Too much trouble. Easier to carry them around. Dotty old woman.
Good thing she hadn’t undressed, because she should put the jewelry in the office safe. Where it would be safe? One had to believe in something.
The room was now too hot. She closed the window and turned the air back on before she went out. The office-lounge was spooky quiet, with only one dour man in charge, but the patio was lively: very loud rock from the bar; a bunch of
“You’re not listening to me, Jenny.” Eva pulled at her. “You have to promise me, promise me.”
The unrecognizable woman was slowly taking on some resemblance to the sister Jenny knew. Underneath the moon face, the hair, and the squinty eyes, Eva was emerging.
“I am, I will,” Jenny said, and burst into tears. “I promise. I’m sorry we worried you, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again.”
“Am I going crazy, or what?” Flora said, and turned her full attention to Eva. “Now calm down, Eva. Jenny wasn’t on the thruway. Jenny wasn’t here this morning. We aren’t late. We came exactly when we said we would. Nobody was walking on the thruway—”
In the normal voice Jenny remembered, Eva said, “Don’t you tell me to calm down, little sister. Keep in mind that I was diapering you before you could say Mama.” And turning once again to Jenny, she beckoned in a wide embrace and Jenny was in the arms of the Eva she loved, sane, accepting, generous Eva.
“Oh, Jenny darling, it’s so wonderful to see you, so wonderful of you to come. I can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Well, am I de trop or something around here?” Flora, sulky. “Shall I make myself scarce? Would you two like to be alone?”
But Flora’s sisters weren’t listening to her.
Jenny seized on the fleeting argument with Flora to check into a run-down place a few blocks north of Flora’s condominium. She was lucky. A couple had unexpectedly moved out of an efficiency apartment on the second floor overlooking the ocean. One room, big bed, a couch, an armchair, all in matching dim stripes, a mongrel bedside piece, a dresser, a table and two chairs, a kitchen, so to speak, a little foyer, then a bathroom. Terrible lighting, some overhead, some lamps. Two doors: entrance from an inner court balcony with a view of some dismal shrubbery, two small, odd-shaped swimming pools, and a funky bar-restaurant with a couple of indoor and outdoor tables; the other door out to a tiny balcony that gave on the sea, a compensation so large it made the rest acceptable.
She was exhausted. She collapsed on a deck chair, wrapped in the moist hot wind, in the mystery of dark heaving water and the whiteness of the breaking waves on the shoreline. She fell into one of those quick naps peculiar to the old and awoke to painful discomfort and a wild disorientation. Where in the world was she?
In Theirami. She was up to her neck in Theirami. That came clear to her after a few moments. She got up, left the sea behind her, drew the blinds against the courtyard lights, turned off the air conditioning, and opened a window. She unpacked. She hadn’t unpacked at Flora’s. She turned away from the reality of their swift quarrel. Of course Flora would have made up, but Jenny had held tight to the quarrel, using it as an excuse to come to this seedy refuge to be alone. No sin. No harm done. She forgave herself. Take a lesson from Charles forgiving the dotty old ladies for carrying their belongings around with them.
She set her traveling clock on the night-stand/bookcase/desk next to her bed. It was only eight-thirty. She turned on the TV, surfed until she found a Seinfeld repeat. Just what the doctor ordered. She watched and laughed, and laughed again. Then laughed at herself unpacking her green carryall. Medications. CDs. All her good jewelry. As dotty as the rest of them. Why hadn’t she left her jewelry home? And the CDs? Not safe. Or in her bank deposit box? Too much trouble. Easier to carry them around. Dotty old woman.
Good thing she hadn’t undressed, because she should put the jewelry in the office safe. Where it would be safe? One had to believe in something.
The room was now too hot. She closed the window and turned the air back on before she went out. The office-lounge was spooky quiet, with only one dour man in charge, but the patio was lively: very loud rock from the bar; a bunch of
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