Florence Adler Swims Forever(83)
“She’s terrible.”
Stuart scrunched up his nose. “I feel rather bad for Charles.”
“Charles! What about me?”
“You’re right, you’re completely right,” said Stuart, nudging her shoulder affectionately with his. “For the record, I can’t get any girl in Atlantic City.”
“Oh?”
“Kitty Carlisle performed at the Nixon Theatre last month, and she wouldn’t even return my calls.”
Anna grinned. He’d obviously heard every word Lillian had said. “You must have been despondent.”
“I was,” he said with a grin. “Want to swim here?”
They’d come to a spot of beach not far from Steel Pier. By the time Anna could respond, Stuart had already dropped his shoes in the sand and pulled his shirt over his head. Tentatively, she began to undress.
“Is this okay?” Stuart asked, sensing her trepidation. “If you hate swimming in the ocean, we’ll go back to the pool tomorrow.”
“It’s fine,” she said as she worked the buttons on her dress. She didn’t feel fine, she felt like a complete fraud. Her dress slipped off one shoulder, exposing the bright green suit underneath.
“Anna Epstein, do I detect a new bathing suit?”
She could feel her face flush but she made a point of giving him what she hoped was a coquettish smile.
“Let me see it. All of it.”
Anna skipped the rest of the buttons and pulled the dress over her head instead. “Ta-da,” she said, hoping she came off like a girl who was always buying new bathing suits and parading them around the beach.
Stuart seemed to sense she needed reassurance. “You look beautiful.” He grabbed her hand, briefly, and said, “The suit’s nice, too.”
Suddenly Anna wished for the dingy black bathing suit at the back of Florence’s drawer, an article of clothing that allowed her to hide in plain sight.
“Anna, is there something else the matter?” Stuart asked.
How much should she tell him? It was hard to know. If she shared too much, she ran the risk of him seeing right through her, of recognizing that her affection was muddied with other desires. If she didn’t share anything, how would he ever know what she needed?
“I heard from my mother yesterday. Things aren’t looking very good for my parents.”
“What are they saying?”
“That there’s not enough in the bank account Joseph opened.” She held her balled-up dress in front of her chest.
“What about the affidavit?” asked Stuart. “You said there were more letters now.”
“The consul wants them to come from close relatives.”
“And your parents have no relatives in the U.S.?”
Anna shook her head. “Just me.”
“Right, of course,” Stuart said, acknowledging his slip with a small laugh. “You couldn’t sponsor them, I suppose?”
“I’m on a student visa.” She used her free hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“There’s nothing else Joseph can do?” Stuart asked.
“He’s done so much already.”
“How much was in the account?”
“Twelve hundred dollars,” she said, and watched Stuart’s eyebrows jump.
“And the consul is saying it’s not enough? That’s crazy.”
“They told my parents they’d want to see ‘some amount’ of money in an irrevocable trust.”
“How much?”
“They didn’t say. But if the expectation is for them to live off the interest, without touching the principal, we’re probably talking about close to five thousand dollars.”
Stuart let out a low whistle.
“I know.”
“What does Joseph say?”
“Nothing definitive. But I’d be surprised if he can part with that much money.”
“Few people can.”
They stood there in silence for several minutes. If only Anna knew what to say or do to turn the evening around. It was possible that, at this point, it was already too far gone.
“Do you know Eli Hirsch?” Anna finally asked.
“Vaguely.”
“I went to see him yesterday.” A sand crab scurried past their feet, and they both watched it disappear into a hole in the sand. “He thinks my best option is to forget school and try to get American citizenship. Then my parents would qualify for a preference visa, which is far easier to get.”
“Wouldn’t your parents be crushed?”
“My father hasn’t worked in over a year.”
“How easy is it to get American citizenship?”
“If I applied for permanent residency, not very easy.” Anna inhaled and forced herself to look at Stuart. “But if I married an American, it’s fairly straightforward.”
Had she really repeated Eli Hirsch’s suggestion aloud? Anna wasn’t drunk, by any means, but the beer had left her feeling bold.
“Is that what you want?” Stuart asked, his brow furrowed. “To marry?”
Anna couldn’t bear to meet his eyes for a moment longer. Instead she looked away, studied the way the sand stuck to her toes. All she wanted this very instant was to put her dress back on. “I don’t know.”