Last Night at the Telegraph Club(76)
The vast windowless space was crowded with bargain hunters drifting from giant bins of marked-down sweaters to spinning racks of dresses in odd sizes. Lily couldn’t see the dressing rooms anywhere, but she did see a Macy’s employee folding blouses at one of the nearby bins.
Shirley saw her too, and said, “Lily, will you go ask that woman?”
Lily knew Shirley was sending her because she didn’t want to go herself and risk facing an unfriendly salesgirl; they often seemed to doubt that any Chinese had the money to pay. Lily didn’t want to go either, but she wanted to argue with Shirley even less, so she straightened her shoulders and approached the woman.
“Excuse me, miss, where are the dressing rooms?” Lily asked politely.
The woman turned toward her. “They’re on the far side. Let me take you—”
Lily froze in surprise, because it was Paula. Not Paula the way she had looked at the Telegraph Club, in her blazer and slacks, but Paula nonetheless. Her short hair was done in a feminine style now, and she wore a tan shirtdress along with her Macy’s smock and identifying name tag, which read MISS WEBSTER. Lily knew that Paula recognized her too, because she saw it in Paula’s slight widening of her eyes, which was followed almost instantly by a shuttering of her expression—as if she had drawn on a mask. The idea that Paula from the Telegraph Club had a job as a Macy’s salesgirl was astonishing. Was Lily supposed to acknowledge that she knew Paula? And if she did, would Paula acknowledge that she knew Lily? Lily was immediately certain that it was dangerous for them to do so. The midnight world in which they had met did not belong here in the brightly lit public afternoon.
She and Paula looked at each other for what felt like a very long moment, but was probably no more than a few seconds. Then Paula dropped her gaze to the blouse she was folding and said formally, “Let me take you to the dressing room.”
“It’s not for me. It’s for—” Lily gestured to Shirley, who was still standing behind her at the rack with Mary and Flora.
Paula nodded. She finished folding the blouse and headed over to Shirley, not even looking at Lily. “Do you need a dressing room, miss?”
“Yes,” Shirley said. “Where is it?”
“Please follow me,” Paula said.
Shirley, Flora, and Mary followed Paula across the floor, and Lily trailed after them nervously. She began to worry that Paula would say something, that she would ask about Kath or why they had left the party so abruptly. She hung back a little when they reached the dressing room, allowing her friends to go in ahead of her. It wasn’t as nice as the dressing room in the junior miss department. This one had no carpet on the floor, and the mirrors were smaller and chipped in the corners.
“May I help you with anything else?” Paula asked, after Shirley had been installed in her small dressing room.
“No, thank you,” Shirley said. She caught sight of Lily standing outside, behind Paula, and added, “Lily, come in with us—I need all of your advice on this.”
Paula silently stepped aside for her, and in that moment Lily understood that Paula wasn’t going to say anything to suggest that she knew her, and Lily wasn’t going to say anything, either. The invisible walls of their two different worlds would slide right back in place, and they would return to their separate lives without comment. As Lily squeezed into the dressing room, she saw Paula escaping back into the bargain basement without a backward glance.
The encounter had left Lily feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, as if her most intimate secrets could be exposed at any moment, and the tiny room provided nowhere to hide. The four of them barely fit inside, and Lily had to stand with her back against the door. Shirley was undressing and handing each article of her clothing to Flora to hold carefully. It was Mary’s job, apparently, to help Shirley put on the dresses, which meant Lily didn’t know why she was there at all, because the only thing she could do was watch.
She and Shirley had undressed in front of each other countless times before in changing rooms or bedrooms, and there had never been anything lewd about it. Lily had sometimes been selfconscious about her body, but Shirley had always been very matter-of-fact, openly comparing their measurements as they grew up and excitedly sharing every new development with Lily—the first bra she bought, the first period she got. In fact, the first time Lily got her period, over a year after Shirley started, she’d asked Shirley how to use a sanitary napkin. Her mother had given her the supplies, but Lily hadn’t understood her instructions, and it was less embarrassing to ask Shirley how to manage the pins and gauze and belt. Shirley had knelt before her on the floor of her bathroom and practically put her hand between Lily’s legs to show her. It had been awkward but also exciting, because it meant that Lily had finally caught up with her friend.
All of this meant that Lily shouldn’t be selfconscious to see Shirley undressed. She knew what Shirley’s body looked like, and it didn’t attract her. But now she was aware of bodies—their physicality, their possibility—in a way she hadn’t been before. (Kath’s body pressed against her, taut and soft all at once.)
She couldn’t look at Shirley until she had the dress on. And then she couldn’t help but notice the soft rise of Shirley’s breasts over the cups of the bodice; the way they shifted when she twisted back and forth, trying to see every angle in the mirror. The back of the dress dipped low, revealing Shirley’s bra; she’d have to get a different one if she wore that dress. It also revealed the naked expanse of her back, the bones of her spine like a map for someone’s fingers. (The feel of Kath’s back beneath her hands, through the fabric of her shirt; how she’d wanted to touch her bare skin.)