Christina
Christina bumped into Zak Galanos in the hall at school. What was the Sewing Machine Man’s son doing at Battin? She tried not to look at him but, too late. He did a double take.
“I know you, don’t I?” he asked.
“You went to school with my sister, Athena.”
“Right. Athena Demetrious. And you’re the little sister.”
“Not so little. I’m a senior, graduating in less than a month.”
“And your name is…”
“Christina.”
“Right. Christina.” He smiled at her.
She didn’t like this. It felt awkward. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I have an interview for a teaching position for next year.”
Why on earth would he want to teach at the school right across the street from where his parents died, from the hole in the ground that was once his house?
“What will you teach?”
“History, maybe a few classes of civics. Mrs. Rinaldi is leaving.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She wants to move someplace that’s sunny year-round.”
“Who doesn’t?” She shouldn’t have said that, given the fact that he was here looking for a job. A job in Elizabeth, New Jersey. A job in Plane Crash City.
“What about you, Christina? Are you going someplace sunny after graduation?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Can I call you this summer? Would you go out with me?”
This was so embarrassing. And the second bell was ringing. She was going to be late for class. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Serious?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her. What would he say if she told him she was married? “My sister just had her second baby—another boy. They named him Ajax, like the cleanser. They’re going to call him AJ. I’ll bet she tries for a girl next year.”
“Send her my regards. And to your parents, too. They were very kind after the accident.”
The accident. As if they’d fallen down the stairs.
“I saw it, you know. I was helping Mr. Durkee after school when the airplane…when it came right at us. We thought it was coming through the window of the classroom.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“And after, I was there, when the fires and the explosion…” She felt dizzy. She needed to put her head down. She dropped the books she was holding and, as she fell forward, he caught her. Held her in his arms.
“It must have been terrible to see that.”
“Yes.” But no one she loved died. She reminded herself to breathe. Breathe deeply, like when the doctor inserted the speculum. When she recovered she said, “I’m late for class.” She collected her books and started off down the hall.
He caught up to her. “Listen…in case you need someone to talk to, here’s my number.” He passed her a piece of paper.
She looked at it and nodded.
Miri
Henry found Miri, limp and exhausted, on the steps outside their house. She had no idea how long she’d been there, only that she was cried out, her chest so heavy she thought she might never get up. Some boy she didn’t know had come by on a bike and dumped her books on the front lawn but she made no move to get them. When Henry pulled up and got out of the car she fell into his arms. “I know…I know…” He held her. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. “Come on,” he said, “get in.” He opened the car door for her and she got inside.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as he started up the car and pulled away.
“How about down the shore? How does that sound?”
She loved the shore and he knew it.
He drove for an hour and a half, stopping once at a phone booth to call Irene to tell her where they were, and not to wait for them for supper.
When they got to Bradley Beach they took off their shoes and socks, leaving them under the boardwalk, while they walked along the shore, letting the waves drizzle out across their bare feet. Rusty called the smell of the sea, the salty air “the ultimate cure for whatever ails you,” but Miri didn’t think it could wash away her sadness today, even if she jumped in fully dressed.
“You want to talk about it?” Henry asked.
“I hate secrets,” Miri said.
“I don’t blame you.”
“Did you know?” she asked.
“About Rusty and Dr. O?”
Miri nodded.
“No one knew.”
“Until I found them, you mean.”
“I think they wanted to be found—not by you, not the way it happened, but they wanted it known. Otherwise they’d never have been at home that day.”
“Natalie called Rusty a whore.”
“Poor Natalie, if she feels that to defend her mother she has to bad-mouth Rusty. Someday she’ll grow up and figure it out for herself.”
“Figure what out?”
“There are two sides to every story.”
“Always?”
“Almost always.” Henry took her hand. “Rusty deserves to be happy,” he said, “and so does Arthur. He’s a good man, Miri.”
As if she didn’t know. As if she hadn’t dreamed of having a father just like him. “How can a good man leave his wife and children?”
“We don’t know about his marriage, Miri. We don’t even know that he is leaving his children.”
“Do you mean the children might go with him?” That would change everything, and not for the better, now that Natalie hated her. She was glad Steve would be going away to college. She didn’t want to live in the same house with him. He barely acknowledged her existence. And Fern? Fern was a noodge but Miri wouldn’t mind her that much. They could get a babysitter for her, maybe another Mrs. Barnes.
“You’re asking questions only Rusty and Arthur can answer,” Henry said. “I’m sure they’re going to sit down with you and explain everything.”
“Oh, no!”
“What?”
“Tonight. Six-thirty. Pizza from Spirito’s. I forgot.”
He checked his watch. “You’re already late. You should call.”
“Would you do it for me?”
“It would be better if you did it yourself.”
She called from a phone booth along the boardwalk, feeding coins into the box as fast as Henry handed them to her. When Rusty answered, Miri said, “It’s me. I forgot.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow,” Rusty said. “No excuses.”
“Okay. Tomorrow.”
She didn’t tell Henry until after they’d stopped at the hotel where the wedding would be, until after he’d shown her the garden where the chuppah would be draped with Grandpa Max’s tallis and a white lace tablecloth brought from the old country by Leah’s grandmother. Everything else would be decorated with peonies, Leah’s favorite flower, in shades ranging from pale blush to deep pink. She didn’t tell him until he asked, “Would you like to bring Mason to the wedding? I know we didn’t send him a proper invitation but—”
“We broke up,” she managed to say, holding back tears. If only she could have a do-over she’d take a different route home from school, or she’d have gone to Pamel’s with her girlfriends, or maybe to the library. Then she wouldn’t have run into him or seen Polina and Stash.
“You broke up?” Henry said. “I’m so sorry.”
She leaned against him and nestled her head against his chest. “He has another girlfriend. All this time he’s had another girlfriend.”
Henry shook his head. “I can’t believe this. Are you sure?”
“She cooks at Janet. She has a little boy. He says he tried to end it with her…”
“But you don’t believe him?”
She shrugged. “Do you?”
“I don’t know Mason as well as you.”
“Would you ever lie like that to Leah?”
“Never.”
“I don’t see how he could have lied to me.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you. He’s still a boy, Miri. He has a lot of stuff to figure out.”
“I told him I never want to see him again.”
“That’s a strong message.”
“I mean it.” Was this her punishment for her fantasy about Dr. O marrying her mother? To lose her boyfriend, the best boyfriend any girl could have? No wonder he’d never tried to get beyond first base with her. All the time he was doing it with Polina. How could she, a fifteen-year-old girl, compete with that?
“I don’t know how I can keep going,” she told Henry.
“Miri, sweetheart—life is hard,” Henry said, “but it’s worth the struggle.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very, very sure.”
—
“I BROKE UP with Mason,” she told Rusty that night, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, honey,” Rusty said. “I’m so sorry. Is it about Las Vegas?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it, and no, it’s not about Las Vegas. End of conversation.” Let Rusty tell Irene. Let Rusty tell the whole world.