Rhonda the Rubber Woman Page 4

  “What did they tell you?” Cora asked.

  Eddie smiled. “Well, now, that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

  He noticed we looked disappointed so he added. “Okay, I’ll tell you one thing. They told me I’d meet a gorgeous blond lady who smokes Raleigh cigarettes and we’d live happily ever after.” He put his arm around me.

  We all laughed. Suddenly Walt burped loud from the bedroom. We laughed again.

  “That’s my hero,” Cora giggled. “I guess he’s really pickled.”

  “Reminds me of a circus story,” Eddie said, and he told us about the Siamese twins who did everything the same except one was a drunk and the other was a teetotaler.

  “They were real freaks,” Eddie said. “They were joined at the side. They got hungry and sleepy at the same time. They smoked at the same time. They even knew what the other one was thinking. The only difference, Chang would drink himself silly and Eng wouldn’t feel a thing.”

  “Isn’t that something,” I said.

  “No kidding,” Cora added.

  “Chang died one night after a drunk and the next day Eng died, too. There wasn’t any alcohol in his body but he died anyway.” Eddie made a smacking sound out of the side of his mouth. “Too bad. Good old Chang and Eng. They were real freaks.”

  “Boy, you never know, do you?” I said.

  Cora shook her head and frowned. “So, I guess the moral is don’t get connected to a drunk, eh?” She doodled with her finger on the arm of the chair. “I guess it only takes one drunk to kill two people.”

  Eddie looked at her. “It don’t take a drunk. Let me tell you, Cora gal, I seen a lot of characters, here, there, you name it, all kinds of trouble. It don’t take a drunk. You get hooked up with someone, it works on you. Everyone’s always pulling everyone up or down. You make a connection, ya got pullin.”

  Cora smiled a little smile and kept doodling.

  “Other hand,” Eddie pushed his hair back with his fingers, “you don’t make a connection, whaddaya got?” The two of them exchanged a look as if they knew something I didn’t. I felt left out, crossed my legs and looked at Eddie and smiled. My legs and my smile are my best things. Everyone says so.

  Eddie smiled back. Then he jumped up and said, “Hey, time for me to get my beauty sleep.”

  After Eddie left, Cora laid back on the couch for a minute to rest her eyes while I made hot chocolate.

  I put the milk on the burner and turned on the gas and decided to tell Cora that Eddie might move into the apartment. I knew some people would look down their noses at us, but that wouldn’t be anything new. I was used to that. When Nancy was born we put up with our share of people jabbing each other when we walked by. I learned to laugh when kids who didn’t have any manners yelled, “Hey, is that the bastard baby?” I laughed as loud as I could. And I stayed away from the snooty ladies who looked like they didn’t want to touch you with a hot potato.

  The milk started to boil. I turned it off, poured it into two cups, and stirred in the Hershey’s chocolate.

  Cora was asleep in the living room. I tiptoed over and whispered, “Cora, wake up. The hot chocolate is ready.”

  “Mmmm,” she groaned and turned over. Her blue crepe dress got pulled to one side at the neck and I noticed there was a black and blue mark on the little hollow between her shoulder and her collarbone.

  “Cora,” I said louder. “The hot chocolate is ready. Wake up. I have some news.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Cora’s eyelids fluttered and she peeked up with one eye. “So tell me. You know I hate suspense.”

  I cleared my throat. “Let’s go in the kitchen for our hot chocolate.”

  We sat at the table. “I … uh … was thinking of renting Nancy’s room to Eddie.”

  Cora’s eyebrows shot up. Her hair was limp from the snow, like a tangle of silk threads.

  “Won’t that be kind of crowded?” she laughed.

  “I mean, uh, Nancy can sleep with me.” I gave her a cup of hot chocolate. “Eddie could help out with the rent.” Eddie rented a room over in Benbow but it was small and cold and he said it was no decent way for a man to live.

  Cora tapped an Old Gold against the outside of the pack. “Well, I think it’s a good idea to rent the room. But, gee, Georgia, I don’t know about renting it to Eddie. People might talk.” She pulled out a pack of matches from the Tip Top Tap Room, struck one, and lit her cigarette. I took a sip of hot chocolate, then jumped up and grabbed the dishrag to wipe a spot off the woodwork.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Lots of people rent out rooms. Mrs. Styles down the street rents out a room to Barney Updegrove.”

  “But Mrs. Styles is almost seventy,” Cora said. “Barney is twenty-six. And that’s her house. It’s different.”

  I sighed and felt irked. Cora never used to care what people thought.

  “Well, Mildred from work thinks it’s a good idea,” I said, peeved. Mildred was more open-minded than a lot of people. She grew up in the city. Newark, New Jersey. Mildred knew more about life. She even had a man’s job at the factory. Inspector C. Only two girls had ever been promoted to that. If I was going to listen to anyone, it should be Mildred.

  “Maybe we’ll get married. Me and Eddie. We’ve been keeping company for a year, at least when he’s in town. I know he hasn’t asked or anything yet, but he likes me, Cora. What I mean is, he wouldn’t want to move in if he didn’t like me, would he? And you heard what he said about the fortune teller. About meeting me and us living happily ever after, didn’t you?”

  “Well, I think he might have been just kidding about that, Georgia. But you’re right. I think he likes you.”

  “Yeah.” I got a nice warm feeling thinking Eddie might stick around. I sat down again and stared at the dish rag still in my hand. I didn’t feel about Eddie the way I had felt about Carl. Carl had been special. Sometimes I’d hear the song, “Remember,” on the radio, and I’d think about how Carl used to look at me when he’d pick me up at the football stadium—sort of out of the side of his eyes and with that little grin—and I’d still get chills. But Eddie treated me good, and it would be nice to have a man around the house.

  “Have you said anything to Reverend Mackey?” Cora asked.

  The warm feeling scooted away. Reverend Mackey wouldn’t like it. Not that he ever scolded me for having boyfriends. That was one thing I liked about Reverend Mackey. He said he could understand how a woman in my position would need male companionship. He came around and prayed for me to resist temptations of the flesh but said I shouldn’t despair if I failed. I should just tell him about it. Who I was with and what we did and all. He said things would be fine if I prayed and repented. He understood that the flesh was weak.

  But if Eddie moved in, things would be different. Nancy knew to leave me and Reverend Mackey alone to pray and talk but I wasn’t sure Eddie would do that. But then I thought again, well, gee, if Eddie was around, maybe Reverend Mackey wouldn’t have to come and pray for me so much. It was confusing.

  I felt even more irritated at Cora. “I like to have a man around the same as anyone. It’s easy for you to criticize.” My fingers felt ice cold. “Everything’s fine for you. You’re married. Everything always works out just swell for you.” My voice came out in quick little gasps and tears started up in my eyes as I twisted the dish rag into a roll.

  “Oh, Georgia,” Cora said. “That’s not true. Everything doesn’t work out just swell for me. Let me tell you, kid, marriage isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Just then Walt walked into the kitchen, his hair all flat on one side and sticking up at the top. There was a pattern from my chenille bedspread on the side of his face. “You won’t get any argument from me, Miss Blabbermouth,” he said and he gave Cora a look that could kill.

  Cora looked scared, then laughed. “We’re just joking, Georgia,” she said. “I saw Walt coming out of the corner of my eye and said that to tease him.”

  Walt didn’t
say anything, but he kept the mean look on his face. My tears stopped and I felt edgy so I laughed loud and said, “Oh, sure, everyone always says you two are real cutups. Always good for a laugh.”

  “Yeah,” Walt said, looking at me with a tiny smile. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I heard you talking to Aunt Cora last night,” Nancy said at breakfast, brown eyes looking at me. She broke off a piece of doughnut, popped it in her mouth, and licked the powder off her fingers. We bought our doughnuts from the Methodist Church Ladies’ Auxiliary. They made them fresh every Friday morning, and they were softer on the inside and crunchier on the outside, plus they had more powdered sugar than what you could get store-bought.

  “Yeah, we went out together. Me and Eddie and Cora and Walt. We had a good time.”

  “I heard you say Eddie was gonna move in.”

  “Well, well, little saucers certainly have big ears, don’t they?” I snapped. “You were supposed to be sleeping, young lady.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. I felt annoyed. I never knew such a restless sleeper. My bed was always neat as a bug in the morning and hers looked like a cyclone hit it. I couldn’t think what to say so I started to wash out the coffee pot and put on the radio. Don McNeil and the Breakfast Club was just coming on.

  “Is he going to?” Nancy took a sip of orange juice, then looked down into the glass. Her face was red and splotchy like from nerves but I figured, a kid, it couldn’t be nerves. It must be bad circulation. I wished she looked more like the rest of us Sayers girls.

  “Good morning, breakfast clubbers. Good morning to ya,” the radio sang.

  “Is Eddie going to move in?” Nancy asked louder.

  “We got up bright and early just to how-de-do ya.”

  My stomach felt like it was heaving, like a water wheel. “That’s for us grown-ups to decide,” I said. I hated it that a kid could make me feel so jittery, always looking at me with those eyes, always asking enough questions to feed an army.

  Nancy stared at the linoleum. Her hand was clenched tight around her juice glass.

  “Well, you’d better go or you’ll be late for school,” I said. Then I felt bad that I didn’t like her more. “Maybe I’ll make some pineapple puff for dinner. We’ll have a nice dinner.” I dried off the coffee pot, put it back on the burner, and started wiping the counter. Don McNeil announced it was time to march around the breakfast table in his big-voiced cheery way. Behind me Nancy muttered, “Okay,” and in a minute I heard her shuffle down the stairs in Cora’s old boots. They were too big for her so they made a swooshing sound every step she took. But she’d outgrown her old ones so we’d given them to the scrap rubber drive.

  Don McNeil laughed, and for a minute I felt disappointed and confused. Why couldn’t we start out the morning bright and cheerful like the breakfast clubbers?

  Eddie came over Saturday afternoon with a cute little ceramic statue of the See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil monkeys for me. “One of our newest novelties,” he explained. “I thought, hey, that’s just the thing for Georgia.”

  “Oh, I love it,” I gushed and set it on the end table next to the sofa. I stood back to admire it. “They’re so cute. Look at their little shirts. And they have shiny little fingernails and everything.” I flashed Eddie a smile and went to make a pot of coffee. Nancy was sledding up at Cemetery Hill.

  “Mmmm. Sure hits the spot,” Eddie said as we sat on the sofa sipping coffee.

  I smiled. I make good strong coffee. I took a sip, too. Eddie put two cigarettes in his mouth—one Lucky Strike and one Raleigh—squinted his eyes, and lit them both. He gave the Raleigh to me.

  “So what do you think, doll? What do you think about my moving in?”

  “Well, I’d like that,” I said. “But I don’t know. Cora said people might talk.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes. He took a drag and lifted his head to blow the smoke up. “Sure, they will,” he said. “They’ll talk about what a lucky guy I am.” He snuggled closer.

  I laughed. “Well, gee, let’s think about it a little…” My chest was tight and I wished I could just do what I wanted in life without having to worry about people looking down their noses at me every minute.

  “That’s okay by me, doll, but let me give you some free advice. Don’t listen to your sister Cora.” I was surprised at how sure of himself Eddie sounded.

  “Being in the entertainment business, I know about people, and let me tell you, doll, that sister and that husband of hers have problems.”

  “No,” I said. Eddie could sure be outspoken. It made me nervous. I liked people to get along.

  “Yeah,” Eddie said back. “For one thing, Walt don’t like you. Or me. He don’t like people who have things wrong with them. I could tell it the minute he opened his mouth. Even before then. Just when I saw him, with that jaw and that pompadour.”

  “Oh, Eddie,” I said, trying not to feel so irritable. “Walt’s a good guy. He’s a lot of fun. He just gets a little drunk once in a while.” I wondered what he meant, people who have things wrong with them. I knew Eddie had a bum foot, but I didn’t. I had all normal parts.

  Eddie squished his cigarette out and twirled the signet ring on his little finger. A sword-swallowing girl had once given it to him. He shrugged. “Maybe so,” he said.

  “Anyway, we don’t have to decide now,” I said. “I still have to ask Mr. Statdler. But I think he’ll probably like it that you have a steady job to help pay the rent.” I felt myself get flustered. I didn’t want to sound like a gold digger. “What I mean is, us Sayers girls are real good workers. But you know landlords. They think men are more reliable.”

  Eddie smiled. “And you’d like to have me around more permanent like, right, doll?” Eddie said. He ran his fingertip along the tiny beads on the collar of my dress.

  I felt myself blush. “Yes, I would,” I said. I wished I had the nerve to ask if that meant he wanted to get married. I peeked at the signet ring on his finger and thought about the sword-swallowing girl.

  His eyes traveled around the apartment. “Well, I think it would be great, Georgia. Just great. Being around a beautiful doll like you all the time. At least all the time when I’m in eastern P.A.”

  The doorbell rang and I went down to answer. It was Shirley Hunnicut, one of Doc’s waitresses. She looked worried.

  “Listen, Georgia, don’t get upset,” she said, putting her hands out in front with the palms toward me as I opened the door. “Nancy had an accident.”

  My neck started to hurt and the icy air from outside made me shiver. “Oh, no. Where is she?”

  “She’s in the back room. I cleaned her up a little and told her to let me talk to you before she came upstairs.”

  “What … uh … happ … oh…”

  “She was sledding down Cemetery Hill. You know the part right by the grove where you have to turn left at the bottom or you’ll hit the gate?”

  “Yes.” My knees started knocking together.

  “Well, Nancy’s sled must have gone out of control. She didn’t turn. She hit the gate. Her face is cut bad.”

  “Oh, no,” I cried. I can’t stand the sight of blood. Goose bumps started crawling up my arm.

  “I knew you would be too upset to see her,” Shirley said. I thought I saw some blood on Shirley’s wrist and grabbed the wall so I wouldn’t faint.

  “That’s why I took her in the back. Do you want me to call Dr. Di Salvo for you?” she asked.

  Eddie came down the steps and asked what happened. Shirley told him.

  “No, you don’t have to call Dr. Di Salvo,” he said and put his arm around me. “We’ll call him. Thanks anyway, Shirley. We’ll handle it.”

  That did it. I knew then and there I would definitely let Eddie move in. No questions asked. We needed a man around, me and Nancy.

  5

  NANCY, 1942

  If I live to be a hundred, I won’t forget the Saturday Eddie moved in. It was a cold December morning. My mother woke me up at 7:30,
wearing her blue flowered housecoat and new blue satin slippers, her hair tied up in rats. She smelled like Palmolive soap. I was supposed to spend the day at my girlfriend Pauline’s.

  The minute I opened my eyes I felt hot and dizzy. “Mah throde eh zore,” I croaked, my voice like chalk on a blackboard. A part of me wanted my mom to sit down and say, “Oh, poor Nancy,” and call the whole thing off.

  But her face just dropped a mile and she bounced and looked around as though somebody might show up to help. She rubbed her hands together, opened a drawer, then closed it and glanced back at me. “It’s probably just a little cold. Just some sniffles. Winnie at work has had the sniffles all week. They’re going around.”

  My throat felt so thick I thought I might choke. “Id erds a lot,” I whispered. My mother took a quick step toward the dresser, then another back toward me, looking bewildered. Her housecoat fell open and I saw the patch of blond hair at her crotch and turned away.

  “Oh, dear. Well … uh … I’ll see if there’s some aspirin.” She rushed off with her rats flapping behind her, her housecoat swishing, stirring up a flurry of cold air.

  I heard her bang on the bathroom wall, then she came back and said there wasn’t any aspirin but she found some pain pills left over from my sledding accident.

  “Here, take one of these,” she said, poking the bottle at me. “They’re … uh … probably better.” Her chin quivered as she unscrewed the cap and she swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure I should take a sledding pill. They had made me dizzy before and I was already woozy now. But I could tell my mom was riled up.

  “Okay,” I wheezed, and she dropped one of the pills into my sweaty palm and gave me a glass of water.

  I got dressed in the thin, gray morning light. I watched my mom lean over the bathroom basin, lift a sopping wet hot washcloth to her face and pat. She used to scrub her complexion until it was bright pink because the women’s page of the newspaper had said scrubbing would remove old dead skin that causes blemishes. But then later the paper said scrubbing would make your face sag and go lifeless. My mom had sighed and complained it was hard to keep up. I had asked what was so special about peaches and cream complexion anyway and she’d just laughed and said I’d see.