This is the second part of my serialized short story. Pick up the first one here.
August 1927
Arthur turned and saw that woman standing on the train station steps. A few moments ago, flames had burst from a man’s eyes as he’d departed the carriage. That woman, Bonnie, had wanted to confront him and apparently she had, despite her blindness. Now she stood still with suitcase and cane, seeming to watch Arthur from her dead eyes.
No, thought Arthur, she can sense me, but not in that way.
There were other ways to see a person. He knew it all too well and it was best he be on his way. Arthur turned back to the man leaning against a yellow cab. He walked up next to the car and set his tattered plaid suitcase on the gravel. He extended a hand and, after a moment of hesitation, the other man shook it.
“Thank you for coming out, Randall.” Arthur said.
“I thought you said your sister was coming too.”
Arthur held up his hand, holding the back side so that the three interlocking triangles branded there were facing Randall. The other man had a similar design, though it was harder to see against his darker skin.
“I thought it was best Ethel didn’t see the three of us together.” said Arthur. “In time she’ll get to be okay around Dorothy again, but I don’t want to spook her.”
“It’s just as well. I don’t want to see Dorothy either right now. Hell, I don’t even know how I feel about you standing here. I am definitely not interested in making my cousin think we’re all three of us together again like the old days.”
“I thought you were the one who convinced her.”
“It don’t mean we’re friends.” said Randall. He snapped his fingers, saying, “You can’t get it back just like that. But with that baby, she needs you. And let me tell you, I had to do some talking to get her off the idea that you had something to do with Beverly falling sick.”
“Thank you, Randall. Is Beverly…”
“Doing better, but I’m going to fetch the doctor after I drop you off. You ready to meet your daughter?”
Arthur put his hand on the front passenger’s door handle. Randall put his own hand on top.
“Come on, Arthur. We’ve got to do this like a cabbie and his fare, not like friends.”
Arthur forced an uneasy laugh.
“You’re angry.” he said. “I know, but I am going to marry your cousin if I can show her I’m good for it. I can’t hide while walking next to her and pushing a little colored baby in a pram.”
Randall considered the other man with narrowed eyes.
“Those are fine words coming from your mouth.” he said. “You and Dorothy left and it was my cousin and me who had to face the music. It's not the same for us. We don’t get to walk away from things. Now you want to decide you’re brave. I hope you mean it. Get in the back, Arthur.”
The two men climbed in, like a cabbie and his fare, and drove off. Randall was quiet. Every few moments he itched the skin beneath his layer of young stubble. Arthur had noticed it before, but had decided not to mention it. He knew his former friend preferred a clean shave, but he also knew Randall was clumsy and needed to use safety razors. The cluster of half- healed nicks indicated he’d tried to use a straight razor to save money. The stubble indicated he’d rather have a beard than have a bloody face and still be penniless either way.
The cab approached the river and a jumble of brick buildings beneath a neon sign reading Cobbler’s Snacks, source of the oily potato smell that enveloped the entire town. After crossing the river into a neighborhood of low slung wooden tenements, they stopped in front of a building with porches hung like shelves on the front and a shaky looking fire escape fixed to the side.
Arthur went up to the door while Randall stayed in the cab, which then drove off. He pulled a small black velvet pouch from his pocket and knocked on the door. He didn’t hear Beverly cry. He had hoped the baby would respond in some way to his arrival, but of course that was a silly thought. Ethel answered. She was just a girl, only seventeen. Her long hair was tied in a tight braid and flung over the front of her shoulder, where it lay on the lapel of her flower print dress.
“You’re beautiful.” said Arthur. From the felt pouch he produced a necklace with a gold chain and flower shaped charm, with violet colored petals. “It’s an amethyst primrose.”
“My birthstone and flower. It must have been hard to find. And not cheap.”
She invited Arthur into the little flat. It was nearly bare, but tidy. She let him put the necklace on her. Ethel held the flower and tipped it back and forth, admiring the way it sparkled in the light. Then she let it go and offered Arthur a smile that seemed genuine, but muted.
“You’re not happy to see me.” said Arthur.
“I am, actually.” said Ethel. “But I’m sad about the reasons. You don’t know how much I’m hoping that your coming here will really make things better.”
“Randall wrote me how the factory let your dad go. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Momma’s taken up work as a nanny and Randall does what he can, but we’re all eager to get me a new situation.”
There was a knock at the door. It wasn’t from a fist, but from bit of wood, maybe a cane. Arthur opened the door and found Bonnie there with her suitcase resting by her feet.
“Arthur.” she said.
“Do you know this woman?” said Ethel.
“No.” said Arthur. “Not really. We met on the train when she needed help finding a seat.”
“My name is Bonnie. This is 31 Elizabeth Street?”
“Yes, it is.” said Arthur. “But there are some other apartments here.”
“I think I have the right one. I was told first floor.”
“Who told you?” He took several steps in her direction. “Why are you here?”
“Arthur,” said Ethel. “Stop being so menacing. Can’t you see she’s blind? Let her in for god’s sake and we’ll figure out what the matter is.”
Bonnie tapped her cane as she stepped forward. Ethel showed her to a chair on one side of a small table. Bonnie sat with the suitcase between her legs, just as she had on the train. The baby cried from another room and Bonnie gasped and put her hand on her chest.
“Sorry to startle you.” said Ethel. “That’s Beverly.”
She went off to the bedroom and came back a minute later with the little crying bundle. Beverly was red faced and sweaty. Her mother sang to her and rocked her, which seemed to give the baby a little solace. Beverly’s wailing died down to a creaky fuss. Arthur would’ve liked to be alone with Ethel when he saw their baby for the first time. For that and many other good reasons, he needed to get Bonnie out.
“I had a baby of my own.” said Bonnie. “I worked in a shoe factory when it caught fire. That’s why I must dress this way, to hide my disfigured body. They gave my baby to another family when I died.”
“Excuse me?” said Ethel.
“That is why I am here, with everything I have left.” She tapped the suitcase with her foot. “It’s all the jars full of my pain."
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Now read part 3, for the love of all that is holy!
This is my first attempt at serialized fiction on steemit. I would love your feedback, whether you love it or hate it or are just indifferent. Seriously! Just do it. See you next time.
