Last Night at the Telegraph Club(107)

Her book bag. She spun on her heel and rushed out of her room, running down the hall to find her book bag where she had left it on the floor beside the bench. She knelt down and unbuckled it and there it was, tucked in the back behind The Exploration of Space. She let out her breath in relief.

Footsteps approached from the kitchen. Aunt Judy stood a few feet away. “Are you all right?”

Her anger surged up again. If her aunt hadn’t played detective and found Lily in North Beach—if she hadn’t offered to take her back to Pasadena—

She rose to her feet, leaving the magazine in her bag; she didn’t want her aunt to see it. “I’m fine,” she said, because her aunt looked so forlorn.

Back in her room, she looked at the cover illustration of spaceships traveling toward the red planet before carefully tucking it between her clothes in the suitcase. She glanced over her shoulder, then opened The Exploration of Space. The photograph of Tommy was still there. She remembered Kath picking it up off the floor of the girls’ bathroom and holding it out to her. For a moment, they’d both held this piece of paper, like a talisman that had called them into existence, together. How long ago that was, and yet it felt like yesterday.



* * *



—

Somehow, time did not stop. The suitcase was packed; her grandmother returned from the temple; Uncle Sam and Aunt May returned from the playground with Minnie and Jack. There was lunch to make—leftovers from the New Year dinner—and there was another mess to clean up. Eddie and Frankie came home from school. Uncle Francis returned much later than expected, because he had gone to the train station to exchange his and Aunt Judy’s tickets for new ones that departed tomorrow—and to buy one for Lily.

Late that afternoon, Lily’s parents gathered Eddie and Frankie and Lily together and explained that Lily was going to Pasadena for a while. “She’ll finish high school there,” her father said.

“Why?” Frankie asked.

“It’s best for her,” their mother said in a tone of voice that indicated no further questions would be answered.

Eddie followed Lily away from their parents and whispered, “Did something happen? I heard some things at school. I didn’t know what to do.”

She drew him back into his bedroom, pushing the door shut. “What did you hear?”

His cheeks went pink.

“Never mind,” she said. “You don’t have to say it. Do you think I’m disgusting?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Of course not. I don’t care what they said. You’re my sister. Should I beat them up?”

She had to take a deep breath to prevent herself from crying. “No. But will you do something for me?”

“What?”

She pulled a small envelope from her skirt pocket. It was addressed to Peggy Miller on Union Street. She wasn’t sure if Kath’s parents would confiscate her mail, but she thought that Peggy would pass on a letter. “Will you mail this for me?”

He took the envelope. “Peggy Miller,” he said in surprise. “She’s the sister of—” He cut himself off, looking embarrassed. “I heard something about her sister.”

“And me?” Lily said.

He reddened. “Maybe.”

“It’s all right. Just—will you mail this to Peggy?”

“Well, I know her,” Eddie said. “We’re both in the band. She’s first-chair trombone. I could give it to her.”

Lily was relieved. “You will?

“Sure.”

“Don’t let anyone else have it.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” she said, and impulsively pulled him into a hug. After a startled moment, he hugged her back.

As they parted, she asked, “Will you tell me one more thing?”

“What?”

“Did Shirley win Miss Chinatown?”

He was surprised. “No.”

“Who did?”

“Some girl from George Washington High School.”

She felt an entirely ungracious satisfaction.



* * *



—

And then it was time to go.

The morning of her departure, all the adults pretended as if it were completely normal for Lily to be leaving with her aunt and uncle in the middle of the New Year festival. The children’s questions were shushed, and they were herded away into the living room to look out the window for the waiting taxi.

Lily’s mother thrust a paper bag full of steamed buns into her hands. They were still warm, and Lily realized her mother must have just run out to buy them. “Don’t forget to eat,” her mother said stiffly.

Lily’s father carried her suitcase down the stairs and put it into the trunk beside Aunt Judy’s and Uncle Francis’s luggage. On the sidewalk, he placed his hands on Lily’s shoulders and looked her in the eye, finally, and said, “Listen to your aunt and uncle. Call us when you get there.”

Lily turned away first, angry with herself for wanting to cry.

The taxi ride to the train station was a blur. They crossed the Bay Bridge on the lower deck, heading toward Oakland, and the bay whipped past through the steel girders—water and boats and tiny crested waves. It made her queasy. She rolled down the window to catch the breeze, but it smelled of a noxious combination of exhaust and seawater. She closed her eyes and wished she was going in the other direction.