The House of Eve (63)

“I love you, Ruby.”

“And I love you, but I’m learning that love ain’t always enough.”

“It is for me.”

I squeezed his hand. Sure, it was enough for him, a boy whose parents owned the building that I rented in. What I had realized these past few weeks was that all people like the Shapiros had to do was make a phone call and anything they wanted fell at their feet. Whatever they didn’t want went away. Like the egg. Love wasn’t going to lift me out of my circumstances. I had to do that for myself.

Shimmy reached for me over the seat, and as I hugged him to me, I could see Mrs. Shapiro coming back down the driveway.

I whispered in his ear, “Your mother will crush our love. The world will stomp out our fire. I have no other choice, Shimmy. Please understand this, for me.” I grabbed his face and kissed his lips, despite his mother watching. “Take care of yourself.”

“Wait.” Shimmy turned around in the seat, flipped open the glove compartment and pulled out a book of stamps. “Promise you’ll write me.”

I took the stamps and tucked them up my sleeve. Squeezing his clammy hand again, I stared into his eyes one last time and then pushed open the car door.

Mrs. Shapiro stood stiff like a guard.

“One last thing.” She stepped closer so that only I could hear her. “My son is a fool, but I can see that you are a smart girl. Let him go completely, or the deal is off.”

She held my gaze. I knew what needed to be done.

“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Shapiro. Get home safely,” I offered, and then turned my back on her and headed up the driveway with my shoulders as high as I could muster.





PART THREE


Mission of the House of Magdalene: To assist the prostitutes, troubled, lost and fallen women and wayward girls.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CRACKS AND CREVICES



Eleanor




Eleanor’s eyes flashed open. Her cotton sheets were soaked through with sweat. She reached for the bottle of pills on the side of her bed. The little blue tablets offered her the only reprieve from the image that haunted her: a tiny purple foot being carried away. But when she turned the bottle upside down, it was empty.

In the three days that they had been home, William had only said what was necessary, and at night he kept to his side of the bed. When she woke up, he had already gone off to work, but today he had left a thermos of chicken noodle soup on the bedside table. She saw the food as a good sign and hoped that it meant they were on the mend. But then she remembered Dr. Avery’s words: We recommend you don’t try again. The next time could be life-threatening. How could they get past any of this without a child?

She dragged her slippers across the floor as she moved down to the kitchen, where there was evidence of William’s hastily made breakfast. Eggshells littered the counter, a butter knife and crumbs from his toast. She tidied up, washed the pan and plate in the sink and then made herself a cup of Earl Grey tea with a dash of cream. When she settled in on the settee in the den with her hot mug, her eyes fell on the telephone. Since coming home from the hospital, she hadn’t told a single person about her misfortune, not even Nadine. Eleanor knew that it was time to call her mother and break the news. But she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the receiver. Saying the words out loud would make them true, and she wasn’t ready for that. Eleanor had no energy for reading or archiving work, so she flipped on the television. The midday news aired, followed by the game show What’s My Line? Episode after mind-numbing episode provided Eleanor a break from wallowing.

The sun had sunk and the Texaco Star Theater program was halfway through when she heard William coming through the back door. He dropped his briefcase in a chair with a thump and then found her curled up in the den.

“You’re up.” He walked over to her and put his hand on her head to feel for fever. After she’d returned home from the hospital, he had begun treating her more like a patient than his wife.

“How was your day?” She craved his conversation, but William didn’t respond. He was too busy sizing her up.

Eleanor was still wearing the pajamas she had put on when she returned from the hospital. After three days, they were grimy, and her skin felt flaky and dry.

“Let me run you a bath. The hot water will make you feel better.”

Eleanor didn’t want to bathe and didn’t think it was possible to feel better.

But William clearly thought otherwise. She could hear the tub filling. When he came back and reached for her hand, she didn’t have the strength to resist his pull. Somewhere deep inside her it registered that she was lucky that William was still here after all she had put him through.

The bathroom was steamy with the smell of citrus. Hot soapy water sloshed against her skin as she slipped into the claw-foot tub. As she sank below the water, William tossed her a washcloth and then started for the door.

“Wait,” Eleanor called. “Can you stay?”

William shifted on his feet. “I have some paperwork to finish up.”

“Please,” she croaked, lifting her eyes to meet his. William sighed, and then moved toward the tub and plopped down on the small foot stool.

They sat in uncomfortable silence. Eleanor pulled her knees to her chest while she gathered her nerve. “The guy from high school…”