Florence Adler Swims Forever(49)

“What is the most important question?”

“Whether you’ve been a good person. Done good things for other people.”

“Florence used to take me for pickles on Heinz Pier, which was a very good thing.”

Her grandmother’s eyes grew wet again. “Yes,” was all she said before she slipped farther down into the tub, allowing her ears to sink below the waterline. Her grandmother’s hair looked darker when it was wet, and Gussie liked the way it moved in the water.

“Nana,” said Gussie, trying to be heard through the water. “Nana.”

“Hmm?”

“What about Hyram? He didn’t have a chance to do good things.” At the mention of Hyram’s name, her grandmother surfaced, tilting her head to clear her ears. Gussie repeated her question.

“Babies are always doing good things. Hyram made your parents happy and you happy. That’s enough.”

Had Hyram made Gussie happy? She wasn’t so sure.

“Can I shampoo your hair?” Gussie asked.

“I’ve already shampooed it but I’ll take a little crème rinse.”

Gussie’s heart fluttered. Nothing thrilled her more than getting the chance to do things she wasn’t normally allowed to do, and washing her grandmother’s hair fell squarely in that category. Esther sat up in the tub, water streaming from her head and shoulders, and Gussie grabbed the glass bottle of Breck from the little shelf that sat nearby. She untwisted the cap and concentrated on pouring a modest dollop of the concoction into her hand. The crème felt cool in her palm and smelled of coconut. She rubbed it between her hands before working it through her grandmother’s hair, which was surprisingly long when wet.

“My mother doesn’t use crème rinse.”

“Your mother has such lovely hair, she probably doesn’t need to.”

Gussie pulled her fingers through her grandmother’s hair, working quietly for several minutes. She was particularly careful when she got to the tangled pieces, which Gussie knew, from personal experience, could make a person yelp.

“Would you like me to take you to see your mother?” Esther asked.

It had been weeks since Gussie had been to the hospital. Her grandmother said it was because children weren’t often allowed on the maternity ward, and her father said it was because they’d all been so busy, but Gussie knew the real reason was because no one trusted her to keep a secret.

This frustrated Gussie. Even before her induction into the Florence Adler Swims Forever Society, she had been extremely good at keeping secrets. She never told anyone when her parents argued in their bedroom at night or when her father muttered not-nice things about her grandparents under his breath. On the days when her mother was too sad to get off the sofa, Gussie never let on to her grandmother. She hadn’t breathed a word about Anna borrowing Florence’s bathing suit, even after Gussie went looking for it and found it damp and draped behind the radiator. And, most important of all, Gussie had never told a living soul about her own plan to marry Stuart.

“Remember, if we went, you wouldn’t be able to say a word about Florence,” warned Esther as she stepped out of the tub and toweled herself off.

Gussie trailed Esther into her bedroom, uttering promises as she went. The way her grandmother had talked, she assumed they’d go to the hospital as soon as Esther had put on a fresh dress; however, after Gussie watched her remove a girdle from a drawer, consider it briefly, then put it back in its place, she began to second-guess herself. When Esther slipped on a housedress, Gussie knew her grandmother had no intention of leaving the apartment.

“What about the hospital?”

“Please don’t whine.”

Gussie rephrased the question and asked it in a falsetto: “Nana, are we going to go to the hospital now?”

“I told you I’d take you, but not today.”

“When?”

“Soon.”



* * *



Gussie banged around the apartment loudly for the next hour. During that time, she managed to knock over the hatstand in the front hall and spill half her grandmother’s lavender oil down the bathroom sink. Both accidents, of course. Then she refused to eat lunch, despite the fact that her grandmother was serving tuna fish sandwiches, which were a particular favorite of Gussie’s. When Esther had had enough, she sent Gussie to her room and told her to stay there until she could figure out how to be more pleasant. Gussie didn’t dare bellow as she stomped off to the sun porch but she did make sure she slammed the door with plenty of umph.

It was hard to be pleasant when so much was going wrong. Gussie swiped some of the treasures on her windowsill to the floor but she was careful to avoid upsetting the tiny ceramic animals that had come in the Cracker Jack boxes her grandfather kept leaving on her bed. There was an otter and a pig and a seal that balanced a ball on his nose. When she was satisfied with the mess, she threw herself onto the bed, grabbed hold of her Raggedy Ann doll, and studied the tiny wormholes in the beadboard ceiling.

After a half hour or so, there was a light knock on the door.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Anna said, peeking her head around the door.

Gussie was annoyed. People were always deciding what she should be doing.

“I don’t want to go for a walk. I want to go to the hospital.”