“You don’t have to worry,” he said. “You are an extraordinary person, Daisy. Among the finest I’ve ever known. I consider myself lucky to have you in my life.”
“The feelings are mutual, Dr. O.”
She’d thought after that day they’d have no secrets from each other.
Elizabeth Daily Post
COMMERCIAL JET FLIGHTS BEGIN
By Henry Ammerman
MAY 3—While Elizabeth awaits the CAB verdict on the reopening of Newark Airport, a new era of airplane travel began today with the flight of a British De Haviland Comet jet airliner from London to Johannesburg, South Africa. The British Overseas Airways Corporation plane carried a full payload of 36 passengers on this first-ever commercial jet trip. The journey was expected to take 24 hours, with intermediate stops in Rome, Beirut, Khartoum, Uganda and Northern Rhodesia.
With a top cruising speed of 480 miles per hour, the Comet is 50% faster than propeller aircraft such as the DC-6, and its proponents say it provides smoother and quieter travel.
32
Miri
On May 8 news spread that another plane had crashed in Elizabeth, smashing into Levy Brothers department store. Miri was eating lunch at her usual table in the cafeteria when she heard. She felt sick to her stomach and had to swallow again and again to keep down the egg salad sandwich she’d just finished. She thought of the lady who worked in the teen department at Levy Brothers, the one who was having her nails done the morning Mr. Roman gave Miri her Elizabeth Taylor haircut. Had she been at work today? Was she dead now?
The teacher who was lunch monitor that week shouted, “Everyone under the tables. Now!” She was one of the new, young teachers. She wore small pearl earrings that gave her face a glow. But now she wasn’t glowing. She shouted, “Quiet, please! Another plane may be on the way. Cover your heads with your hands.”
Kids were screaming. Someone vomited on the floor. The smell of sweat mixed with the vomit and the uneaten lunches. They had grown complacent, Miri thought, more interested in ninth-grade graduation and going off to high school than about planes crashing. They’d been moving on with their lives, which is what their parents urged them to do. They were trying to be regular kids, happy kids, to please their families. But this proved you never knew when something terrible would happen. Miri wished she could be with Mason. If she was going to die she wanted to die in his arms. Oh, god—please let him be all right. She and Suzanne held on to each other under the table. Some girls were whimpering. For once, the boys shut up.
Miri could smell her own sweat, the sweat of fear, the sweat that deodorant didn’t prevent. Robo was probably so glad she’d moved away from Elizabeth. But not everyone could afford to buy a house in Millburn or South Orange or some other fancy town where planes didn’t crash. Suzanne’s eyes were tightly shut. Her lips moved silently. Probably she was praying. But praying wouldn’t save them, would it? It didn’t save the people on the planes. Not that Miri knew if they’d prayed, but she was betting they had. Was Suzanne praying to Jesus? Did it matter who you prayed to? Did anything matter?
It seemed like they were under the lunch tables for hours. Finally, an all-clear whistle blew. As they came out, they saw Donny Kellen, that idiot, standing on a table, shouting into a bullhorn. “April Fool! April Fool, everybody!”
“It’s May, you asshole!” Charley Kaminsky yelled, throwing his half-finished plate of spaghetti and meatballs at Donny. That’s when all hell broke loose. Kids rushed at Donny while he danced around on the table trying to avoid the food being hurled at him like bullets—half-eaten sandwiches from home, the daily special from the cafeteria, apples, oranges, candy bars.
Miri pitched her milk carton at him and clipped the side of his head. “Ow!” he yelled. “Stop…come on…it was just a joke! Can’t you take a joke?”
A group of boys pulled him down from the table and started pummeling him.
Was he evil or just stupid? And why should they believe him when he said it was just a joke? He wasn’t someone you could trust.
The young teacher couldn’t begin to control the madness. “People, please…people!” But her pleas didn’t stop them. She sent Eleanor to the office to get help.
Minutes later the principal’s voice came over the loudspeaker, telling them it was a hoax. “Boys and girls,” Mr. Royer said. Just the sound of his voice was enough to infuriate Miri. “There is no danger. There was no plane crash. Return to your tables immediately and give your attention to Miss Jensen.”
None of them liked Edith Jensen, the vice principal. She probably didn’t like them, either. She marched into the cafeteria, grabbed Donny Kellen by the arm and demanded that he apologize. “Apologize to your classmates right now.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“Apologize!”
“I’m sorry,” Donny Kellen said. “I thought—”
“That’s the problem,” Miss Jensen said. “You didn’t think. You never think. You probably haven’t had a lucid thought in your life!” And she dragged him out of the cafeteria. Maybe Mr. Royer had already called the police. Maybe Donny Kellen would be taken away to jail, or juvenile detention. Miri was sure at the very least he’d be expelled. Finally, Mr. Royer could expel someone who deserved it.
That afternoon kids walked out of school without going to class, without waiting for bells or for teachers to dismiss them. They took off alone, or in groups. Some of the girls flirted with the boys, who flirted back by knocking their books out of their hands or snapping jackets at them. Suzanne wanted to go to Pamel’s, the sweet shop on Broad Street, and celebrate with a banana split. But Miri wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. It still felt all too real to her. It could have been another plane, it could have been anything. Was this how it was going to be? Always waiting for the next disaster?
She walked home alone, forgetting that Irene had gone to New York for the day with Ben Sapphire. She would have welcomed Irene’s warm embrace. Instead, she headed upstairs to her room, where she would lie on her bed with the kaleidoscope, losing herself in its beautiful patterns and colors.
Upstairs, something felt wrong. Rusty’s bedroom door was closed and it sounded as if she was sick. Rusty had never missed a day of work in her life—but now she was mewling. “Mom…” Miri opened the door to Rusty’s room and wasn’t sure at first what she was seeing.
Rusty looked over the shoulder of whoever was on top of her. “Ohmygod, Miri!”
Miri couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. A man, naked, with a white backside, turned to look at her and Miri let out one cry, then covered her mouth with her hand and ran down the stairs, out of the house, up the street. That was Dr. O on top of her mother, and he wasn’t checking her teeth.
Then Rusty was running after her, a raincoat thrown over a black lace negligee. “Miri, wait!”
Miri turned for a minute, in time to see Rusty trip over the negligee, too long for her raincoat to cover, her bare feet in her weekend moccasins. Miri didn’t want anyone to see her mother this way. Didn’t want the neighbors to gossip and ask each other what Rusty Ammerman was doing home in the middle of the day, wearing a black lace negligee and chasing her daughter down Sayre Street toward Morris Avenue.
Miri stopped, letting Rusty catch up with her. “You look ridiculous!” Miri told her.
“I guess so,” Rusty said.
“Go home, Mom.”
“Not unless you come with me.”
Rusty tried to put her arm around Miri but Miri backed away, repelled. “Don’t touch me!”
—
DR. O WAS GONE when they got home.
“I’m sorry this is the way you found out,” Rusty said, wrapping the raincoat around her middle and tying the belt. “We were waiting until the divorce to tell you.”
“What divorce?”
“Arthur and Corinne’s.”
“They can’t get divorced. That will make Natalie sicker than she is now.”
“Natalie knows,” Rusty said.
“You told her but not me?”
“She doesn’t know about her father and me. She only knows they’re separating.”
“I’ll never forgive you for this. And I’ll never trust you again, either.”
“Honey—”
“Don’t honey me…and don’t act like everything’s going to be okay, because it’s not.”
“I know this is a shock. I wish I could have told you sooner. I don’t expect you to understand right away. But I hope—”
“What happened to honesty is the best policy? What happened to trust? All those things you told me when you accused me of betraying you? You probably lied about my father, too.”
“I never lied to you about your father. And I’m not lying to you now.”
“Did you tell him you were pregnant? Did he leave because of that?” How did this turn into a fight about Mike Monsky?
Rusty sat down. “He enlisted before I knew. Later, Irene wanted to tell his family but I wouldn’t let her.”
So that’s how it was.
“I didn’t want to marry him, Miri. It never would have worked, and by then he’d shipped out anyway.”