The Girl of His Dreams Page 4

  On their way out, Willis made another appointment and paid the bill. It took all the money he had, including the ten-dollar bill the news girl had handed back to him. Zola squirmed out from under the blanket and licked his ear.

  “Yeah, you’ve got a lot of appreciation, but that don’t pay the bills.”

  Nine

  Sophie saw the fellow she’d given the paper to going past the stand a couple of times. He’d paid her, but since then he hadn’t stopped. She was disappointed. She kept on noticing him, which was funny because she saw so many men every day. It was perverse of her the way she kept noticing this one guy. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short, either. He was wide in the shoulders, narrow in the hips. He was always beltless, wearing the same checked flannel shirt and a funny white cap. Oh, she really gave him a good looking-over. She liked the way he held himself—lightly, even gracefully. He had a nice face, too, frowning slightly—a nice, worried face.

  Brenda’s husband, Martin, had a funny face, his teeth were stained and he had a limp. He sometimes drove Sophie to work. “Give you a ride anytime I’m on my way to work, Brownie.”

  Sitting next to him in the car, she’d play a little game, imagine she was Brenda and married to Martin and he was driving her to work. But it was hard to believe, because he was so much older.

  Brenda had her own car, an old rusted-out Chevy. She was trying to build up a door-to-door cosmetics business. Since Sophie had moved in, she’d been leaving Jessie with her and taking the baby, strapped in the car seat. Jessie always tried to get into the car with her mother. She fought to the last minute. Sophie would hold her, whisper in her ear. “It’s okay, Jessie. We’ll have fun. More fun than you do with Mommy.”

  Brenda started the car. “Jessie, shut up and listen. You be good with Sophie, or else.”

  “Go on, Brenda, go on. We can take care of ourselves. I’ll take care of her.”

  “Martin’s sleeping, Soph, so try to keep her away from the house.”

  The minute Brenda was out of sight, Jessie stopped fighting and took Sophie’s hand, and they went for a walk. They stopped at a Woolworth’s, and Sophie bought Jessie a pink comb and some ribbons and got herself a potholder shaped like an owl and another plant. She bought a plant almost every day.

  When they got home, Brenda still wasn’t back, so Sophie brought Jessie up to her apartment. Sophie put the new geranium on the kitchen windowsill, then pinched and cleaned her other plants. She had too many plants, but she couldn’t stop buying them. She got up on a chair to spray the big Boston fern she’d bought last week. A big green bushy bear that she couldn’t resist. She pushed her face into its dampness. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she said to Jessie.

  Jessie grabbed one of Sophie’s china horses. “Be careful,” Sophie said, jumping down. “We have to be nice to the horse. Put him on the floor, now move him around. Don’t throw him! You know what he says? Horse says neeeiiiiggghhh!”

  Sophie enjoyed having Jessie to take care of. A lot of times, though, she had nothing to do when she came home from work, not even a walk with Jessie. She’d eat, thinking about the day. She was settling in on the job. Her accounts were coming out right. She’d been off by only ten cents today. A few days ago, she’d been short ten dollars and had made it up out of her own pocket. Her mind switched to the fellow with the ten-dollar bill. White Cap. Was he married? He seemed too young, but he probably had a girlfriend.

  After she cleaned up her dishes, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d find herself thinking about the farm and her brother and Pat. And that got her nowhere. When she couldn’t stand being alone anymore, she’d go down the stairs and stand in front of Brenda’s door, listening to the voices from inside the apartment. But then she’d go on by. Brenda had a family. She didn’t need Sophie hanging around there every minute.

  She went out walking, went where there were people. To the playground, where she liked to get on the swing and soar, whip it up. Not exactly flying, but it had to do for now. She was trying to save money, but everything was so expensive. Lessons were twice as much as they were at home. But just that little bit of a lift on the swing, getting up above the fence and looking over the low roofs, gave her a great feeling.

  She liked to walk on East Broadway, where all the stores were. And she liked the quiet side streets, too, where the houses stood one next to the other. If she saw a house she liked, one with a little green around it, she imagined that she lived there and that as she went by, the door would open and he would come out. The he she used to dream about had been faceless. But now she let herself imagine the guy with the ten-dollar bill. White Cap. It would be him standing at the door, and when he saw her, he’d wave and call her over. And she’d go in with him.

  That night, before she went to sleep, she made herself some cocoa. While it was heating, she moved her newest plant around to various parts of the room. It took a while to find exactly the right place for each plant. Each one had a personality; each one needed its own special place. She finally brought it back to the table, then sat there, melting a cookie in the cocoa and staring at the still-closed flowers.

  Ten

  The wind was blowing as Willis left from work. It grabbed his cap, and he almost lost it. A storm was coming, maybe a hurricane. A garbage can went bouncing down the street. He saw the news girl closing up her stand. A big gust of wind got under the shutter she was letting down and tore it out of her hands. It flew up, then came down on her.

  “Did that hit you?”

  She was holding her hand and leaning against the shutter.

  “You okay?” he said. She looked down, chewing on her lip. Then he saw blood dripping from her hands. “Hey, you are hurt.” There was a dazed look on her face. “Listen, you better sit down.”

  He caught her as her knees buckled. She was heavier than he expected. He had to grab her around the waist. She smelled like chewing gum and fresh, unlit cigarettes. He helped her over to one of the high stone steps. “Sit down. Put your head down.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Let me see your hand.”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, but her hand was a mess. The edge of the shutter had cut her across the palm like a knife.

  “Have you got a tissue?” She shook her head.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He ran across the street to the diner. The chairs were up and George was mopping the floor. “Have you got a first-aid kit?” Willis said. “The girl at the newsstand hurt her hand.” George went off to get the kit, and Willis grabbed some paper napkins and ran back.

  She looked up at him as he came back, as if she’d been waiting for him. Strange look. “Are you in pain?” She shook her head. The way she was looking at him made him uncomfortable. “Give me your hand.” He cleaned up the blood, then told her to hold the napkins against the wound. “Make a fist—it’ll stop the bleeding.”

  “I hate getting cut,” she said.

  “I never met anyone who loved it.”

  She stood up. “I’ve got to close the stand.” The shutter was banging up and down.

  “Sit down. I’ll do it.” He went over and locked up the stand.

  George, in his white apron, came across the street with warm water and a first-aid kit. “So what happened to you, young lady?” he said.

  “Oh! Look at the attention I’m getting. You look like a doctor,” she said to George. She was talking all of a sudden. “You want to see it?”

  “Don’t show it to me. I’m no good around blood.” He handed Willis the first-aid kit. “I’m always cutting my fingers in the kitchen. Look at these scars.” He held out his hand. “That’s what happens when you work around food. You see that little finger? I lost the tip of it shredding cabbage.”

  “Oh!” she said. “That’s awful. Oh, how terrible.”

  The two of them were carrying on with each other like a couple of patients in an emergency room. “Here, give me that,” Willis said. He took the first-aid kit, found a sterile pa
d and bandages. “Hold out your hand,” he told the girl.

  “Okay, you’re in charge.” George went back to the diner.

  “I’m Sophie Browne,” the girl said, like they were at a tea party. “I appreciate … what’s your name?”

  “Willis Pierce.” He washed around the wound.

  “Do you think I’ll need stitches, Willis?”

  He broke out a roll of gauze, tore open the seals, then bandaged her hand. He liked the way she was looking at him. “A cut like that should heal right up.” He sounded very professional. “How’s that feel?”

  “It looks like a boxing glove. Do you work on an ambulance or something?”

  “No, I work over in Consolidated. Is it too tight?”

  “I don’t feel anything.”

  “You will tomorrow. You’d better see a doctor. Tell your boss he’s got to pay for it.”

  “He won’t like it.”

  “Tough. It’s not your fault. You got hurt on the job, that’s all you have to tell him. If you need a witness, call me.”

  She stood up.

  “How do you feel? Are you dizzy?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks. Thanks very much … Willis Pierce.”

  That would have been the end of it. It should have been the end, but something about the way she said his name got to him. He liked the way she said it. Willis Pierce. She said his name as if she liked the sound of it, maybe liked him. “Wait a minute.” He held up the first-aid kit. “Wait till I bring this back to George.”

  He walked with her to the bus, the wind at their backs. They didn’t really say that much to each other. “How’s that hand doing?” he said.

  “Oh, fine, Willis. You did a great job. You really fixed it.”

  “This is only my first house call.” He told her about Zola.

  “Somebody tied wires around her legs? Who would be that mean?”

  “Are you kidding? You sell the papers. Don’t you read them?”

  “Well, yes, but newspapers …”

  “It’s not just the papers. Lousy things happen everywhere.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I guess I don’t want to really believe things are that awful.”

  There was a bench by the bus stop. “Sit down,” he said. “Feeling better?”

  “It’s beginning to hurt.”

  “These things hurt for a while, then they feel better.” He showed her the scars on his hands and wrists. “George isn’t the only one with scars. You see this one?” he said, pointing to a crooked scar down the length of his thumb. “I got that when I was seven years old. They gave me seven stitches, that’s how I remember. And this one?” He touched a raised scar over his eyebrow. “My old man kissed me there once.”

  “He kissed you?”

  “With his fist.”

  “He hit you?”

  “He didn’t know he had his ring on.” He was sorry he’d said anything. He never told anyone about his father. Why was he telling her? Who was she, anyway? He saw his bus on the other side of the street. “I’ve got to run,” he said, and he left.

  She sat there and let him go. You fool, Sophie Browne, she said to herself. You let him go. And then she had to laugh at herself. He was gone, but she was the one who was really gone. Gone nuts over him. That was an old-fashioned word, but that was the way she felt. Old-fashioned crazy over him.

  She remembered his arms around her, her face against his face, his breath on her cheek. Her legs had gone soft and wobbly and she lay against him. Had she really been that weak? He had held her and she had let him. He had wrapped her in his arms and she hadn’t struggled to get away. She’d never acted that way with anybody.

  Everything about him seemed perfect. She had watched as he bandaged her hand. She had studied his face, his soft eyes and the way his ears lay against his head.

  He had talked and she sat there, with the pain in her hand coming and going, not knowing if it was the pain or him, but not caring, because he was there and she didn’t want to do anything to break the spell.

  It had happened just like that. She was head over heels. Love at first sight. Was that it? Was that the way it happened? Was it to be believed?

  Eleven

  Willis took a clean shirt off the hanger and dropped it on the mattress. Zola watched him get dressed. “In an hour, in less than an hour, Zola, at ten to six exactly, I’m going to meet Benny Rinaldi and the beautiful Lee and a friend of hers. Blind date. She’s got to be as gorgeous as Lee. Or does she?”

  He looked for a matching pair of socks, then put on his sneakers. “I’m looking forward to it, Zola. That makes me a fool. I’m hoping. I can’t help it. Because I’m a fool.”

  Before he left, he opened a can of baby food and spooned some into Zola’s dish. He put the dish in front of her, a little out of her reach, so she had to pull herself over to it.

  “That’s it. Reach, baby.”

  He still couldn’t get over the way Zola had popped into his life. What if he hadn’t taken that shortcut? What if he hadn’t stopped? What if he hadn’t gone down to the water and checked out the plastic bag? Chances were a million to one that she’d be dead right now. And, looking at her, watching her lap up the food, that seemed impossible.

  The newsstand girl popped into his mind. Another jack-in-the-box. Another accident in his life. He saw her almost every day. Since the night she’d hurt herself, he’d been waving to her on his way to work. He waved, she waved. He stopped once, asked how her hand was. Just a moment, then he rushed on, and he didn’t stop again. She wanted him to stop. She didn’t say it, but he knew.

  He dropped a couple of pills into Zola’s bowl, then put some water in her cup. She pulled herself around on her front legs. “Maybe you’ll be one of those dogs that walks on its front paws. And you’ll be in a circus and make a lot of money and forget me. Yes, you’re smiling now, but when you’re famous you’ll say, Willis? Who’s he?”

  He studied himself in the bathroom mirror. Get that worried look off your face. Stop worrying! Smile! Look relaxed and confident. What can she do to you? Let’s think about that. Squeeze you to death? Tear your clothes off? Anytime.

  He combed his hair forward, then to one side. He hung some gold around his neck and left his shirt unbuttoned. “How’s that, Zola? Dazzling?”

  He looked at himself again. Uh-uh, too cute. He changed, put on his old, faded running suit. “That’s the way I’m going, Zola.” He got down and whispered in her ear. “I’m nervous enough.” He grabbed his Raleigh racing cap, pulled it down over one eye, then reversed it, but finally set it square on his head. “Zola! Tell you all about it when I see you later.”

  Benny and the two girls were waiting for him outside the Fourplex at Shopping Town. Benny was wearing a leather jacket and a black turtleneck and a lot of gold around his neck. “Willis, this is Lee. And this”—he made like a bugle—“is Dore, ta da! Dore and Lee, this is Willis Pierce, my buddy from work. No, don’t worry about it,” he said, as Willis reached for his money. He had his arm around Willis and grabbed Willis’s cap. “Do you sleep in that thing?”

  Willis glanced at Dore, looked longer at Lee, then couldn’t stop looking at her. She was as beautiful as the photos Benny had showed him. No, better. She could have been a model. A lot of beautiful hair and big, gorgeous, dark eyes.

  Her friend Dore was pretty, too. He gave her a smile. She and Lee were both wearing tight pants and heels. Dore had on some kind of a feathery pink blouse. She liked pink. She had pink nails and pink lipstick.

  “You must be a runner,” Lee said to him.

  “I run every day.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “That’s the main thing I do. Besides work. I run before I work.” He looked down at his wrinkled sneakers.

  “Did you hear that, Benny? Look at the shape Willis is in. And look at you.” Lee patted Benny’s gut. “Dore, Willis runs every day and what do we do?”

  “I run,” Dore said.

  “Like a ten-wheel t
ruck,” Benny said.

  Dore punched him. “I do not. What did you say something like that for?”

  Benny limped around, holding his shoulder as if she’d hurt him. “Tell us about it, Dore. These two women drive me crazy,” he said happily to Willis. He stood between the two girls, his arms draped over their shoulders.

  Willis felt he should say something to Dore. “You don’t run in those high heels, do you?”

  “I have enough trouble walking in them.”

  “I noticed,” Benny said. “You wobble a lot.” That got him another punch.

  Inside, Willis went around to Dore’s side. “Popcorn?” he asked. He went to the candy stand, telling himself the important thing was to talk, stay loose, not freeze up. He was part of this group, too. They were all together. He bought two tubs of popcorn, one for Benny and Lee, one for Dore and him.

  As they walked into the theater, Benny said, “Matched you up perfectly, didn’t I?”

  Inside, the two girls sat in the middle, the two boys on the outside. Willis held the popcorn out to Dore.

  “No, thanks. They stick in my teeth.”

  He took a handful. “You go to the movies a lot?”

  “I love the movies.” She touched her earrings.

  He put his arm across the back of her seat. Her earrings were like little pink candies. “What have you seen lately?”

  She turned to Lee and Benny. “What movie have I seen lately?”

  It was hard to keep a conversation going because her head kept turning to the others. He’d say something. She’d look at him, she’d answer, and then she’d turn back to Lee and Benny.

  “Do you run a lot?” he said.

  “Not much.” She turned to Lee.

  “I don’t feel normal if I don’t run every day.”