Читать книгу Picking Up the Pieces - Barbara Gale - Страница 12

Althea must have had a hundred errands to run, but, desperate for distraction, she decided to treat herself to a trip to Soho, to check out the designer boutiques. February Fashion Week was approaching, and the store displays would change as a result. A business call, she told herself, to see how up-to-date New York was, in terms of fashion.

She hadn’t been to New York in over a year; Paris had spoiled her. Spending the morning skirting slush and piles of dirty snow, she browsed through the stores, fingering the latest silk imports, talking trade with the store owners and admiring their displays. She needn’t have worried, New York was still the fashion capital of the world. Wending her way to Prince Street, she was just about to enter the Prada flagship store when she heard a soft voice call her name, the southern drawl familiar to her ears.

“Althea Almott, as I live and breathe. It is you, isn’t it?”

Althea disliked autograph hounds, but she was never, ever rude to her fans. Pasting on a practiced smile, she turned around to find herself staring into the past.

Benicia Ericson had been a close childhood friend back in Alabama. Living on the same street, they had gone to the same schools, shopped at the same stores, attended the same birthday parties and shared their most intimate, girlish secrets. The pair had been inseparable. Things had only started changing when they were midway through high school and began fantasizing about their future. Althea dreamed of going to New York and searching out the bright lights. Less adventuresome, Benicia had felt threatened by her best friend’s plans to leave and when Althea left, it was on the heels of Benicia’s adolescent anger.

Ten years later, standing on Broadway, they eyed each other warily. Looking down at the tiny brown-skinned woman, Althea was hard put to recognize her old friend. A floppy, gray wool hat nearly hid Benicia’s entire face, but that familiar high-pitched laugh was a giveaway.

“Benicia Ericson! Of all people to meet in Soho.”

“Birmingham does seem a long way away,” Benicia agreed, as they shared an awkward embrace.

“Two thousand miles and two hundred years. How are you, Benicia?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks. But I don’t have to ask how you’re doing.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Althea said quickly. “My goodness, though, what on earth are you doing in New York?”

“I live here.”

Althea was surprised. “No! How come I don’t know that?”

“Maybe because we don’t eat in the same restaurants?” Benicia teased, then turned serious. “And maybe because I never called you. You’re such a big star, I just couldn’t bring myself to…impose.”

A little embarrassed, Althea shook her head. “Well, it’s good to see you, Benicia. Do you ever get back home? To Alabama, I mean.”

“I haven’t been back in years,” Benicia admitted. “But I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“Me, neither, I’m sorry to say. My mom still lives there, though, a few miles outside the city. And yours?”

“Oh, she’s still there, holding down the fort. I left soon after you did and never went back, either. And I never will.”

“Something in the water?” Althea grinned.

“Something,” Benicia said, smiling back. “Do you ever seriously consider returning?”

“Sure I do. Lately, I think about it a lot.”

“Not me, girlfriend. But I’ve thought about you. Sometimes, thinking about you was the only thing that kept me going. I’d read about you in the paper and think, Why, I know that girl, and if she can do it…You know the sort of thing, silly stuff, but it gave me hope. My friend the world-class model, practically a movie star. Oh, my, yes, I gave you lots of thought. I still do, every time I see a magazine with your face on the cover, wearing that famous ruby-red lipstick.”

“I’m paid to wear that lipstick, you know.”

“I figured as much. So, what have you been up to? I haven’t seen your picture lately. Oh, wait, I remember. You hooked up with the good-looking brother from Long Island, that Boylan ambassador fellow, if I remember correctly. Married yourself a real live prince, straight out of Cinderella, and went to live in Europe somewhere.”

Althea’s amber eyes held a faint glint of humor. “Paris, actually.”

“Paris,” Benicia sighed. “Imagine that, your whole life has been one big fairy tale, hasn’t it? Just like you said it would be. It just goes to show, a small-town girl really can make good in this nasty old world.”

“Oh, Benicia, fairy tales don’t always end happily. My husband and I—our divorce was finalized a few weeks ago. It just hasn’t hit the papers yet.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry, Althea.”

“It’s all right, Benicia.” Althea blinked. “How could you know? You would have soon enough, in any case. It will be in all the papers soon.”

“Is that why you’re here in New York?”

“Actually, I only just got back a few days ago.”

“And you run into me and my big mouth. Like I said, I’m really, really sorry.”

“Don’t be. Things happen.”

“Too true,” Benicia said thoughtfully. “Say, listen, I was just window shopping, stalling for time. I have a free hour before I have to go to a meeting. Do you have time for a cup of coffee, catch up on old times? Unless—” Benicia hesitated “—you’re busy. You’re probably busy.”

“I’m not too busy for an old friend,” Althea said firmly. “And a cup of tea sounds perfect.”

The two women made their way a few blocks over to Houston Street, laughing over silly memories that began immediately to surface. Althea talked her friend into having lunch at a small Ethiopian restaurant that served an excellent tea, and tiny glasses of Tej, Ethiopia’s popular honey wine. It wasn’t long before the years fell away and they grew comfortable with each other, although Benicia was careful to stay away from the subject of her friend’s divorce.

“So, tell me,” Benicia asked, as the Tej began to warm them, “you were always talking about going to New York to become a model. Was it worth it?”

“Well, it wasn’t like I was any sort of scholar back in Birmingham, just another pretty girl with a good body and interesting eyes. But my mom lives in a real nice house now with an honest-to-goodness white picket fence and a garden, which is all she ever wanted. So, yes, it was worth it. Of course, it wasn’t without its difficulties. But, hey, that’s a conversation for another day. Let’s talk about you. You look terrific, you know. The same, but different.”

She meant it, too. Benicia looked great. The glossy black curls Althea remembered from their childhood were now worn in a tight cap, her brow was a delicate thin arch over her big, olive-black eyes, and the flirty, long gold earrings she favored set off her graceful neck.

“I do try to take care of myself,” Benicia grimaced with good humor.

“So, are you going to tell me how you landed in New York, considering how angry you were when I left.”

“Considering?” Benicia repeated as their waiter arrived with two steaming bowls of Chicken Wat stew. “Oh, this smells so good.”

“I thought you would like it. It’s my favorite.”

“I can see why,” Benicia said as she picked up her spoon. “But do you mean to say that you don’t follow the Birmingham gossip?” she asked, returning to her thread of thought. “Your momma never told you?”

“Like I said, my mother doesn’t live in the old neighborhood anymore. But now you’ve got my curiosity up, what don’t I know?”

Neatly putting aside her spoon, Benicia rummaged about in the huge tote bag at her feet until she found her wallet. Opening it carefully, she drew out a slender folio of photographs and handed it to Althea. “His name is James. He’s nine years old and he is the most important thing in my life. He is my life.”

“Oh, Benicia, he’s adorable. I didn’t know you were married.”

Benicia’s eyes grew slanted. “I never said I was married.”

“But—”

“The brother had plans,” Benicia said coolly as she quickly retrieved her son’s pictures and stuffed them back in her bag. “Unfortunately, they didn’t include fatherhood. So, it seems we’re both single women, aren’t we?”

Althea fiddled with her silverware, unsure what to say.

Observing her friend’s discomfort, a flash of amusement flitted across Benicia’s round face. “Althea Almott, if I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were blushing. The Alabama in a girl never quite disappears, does it?”

Althea was surprised by Benicia’s observation. No matter how hard she tried to leave the South behind, Alabama did live just below the sophisticated surface she had worked so hard to acquire—a multilayered conservatism that kept her slightly off balance.

“Oh, Althea, I’m only teasing you,” Benicia said, patting her friend’s hand gently. “I don’t complain about being a single mom. I’ve had a long time to figure things out. You don’t remember what a stubborn kid I was, always having to learn things the hard way.”

Confused, Althea sent her a curious look. “How do you mean?”

“I got pregnant,” Benicia said bluntly. “Soon after you left.” For one brief moment, her soft voice was wistful. “I had plans, but then real life had a way of intruding.”

“Oh, there’s truth to that, all right,” Althea agreed sadly. “But what happened to James’s dad?”

“A really good question, for which I have a really dumb answer. I made it easy for him. I let him go. Nobody had to do me any favors! I knew how to take care of myself. Mistake number one was letting him have his way. Mistake number two was letting him get away.”

“Do you ever see him?”

Benicia shook her head. “I wanted him to stay, and I think he did, too. Lordy, that man swore up and down the Mississippi that it wasn’t me. But I was pregnant…. I think he panicked, but how could I blame him? He was only a kid himself, gone before I even started showing. The oldest story in the world, isn’t it?” Benicia said with a sad sigh. “Oh, well, all that’s history, now. But something told me to have this baby, which I did. All by myself.”

“All by yourself?” Althea repeated with a frown. “Your family didn’t help? Where was your mother?”

“Come on, Althea, you remember my momma. When she found out I was pregnant, she beat the living daylights out of me, then she kicked me out of the house. Nowadays, things are different, but back then…” She raised her wineglass, an ironic smile on her face. “To small towns.”

“And to James,” Althea added quickly.

“Thank you.” Benicia nodded as they clicked glasses. “To the future president of the United States.” She laughed. “This week, anyway. If he runs true to form, he’ll want to be a brain surgeon by next week. But, hey, enough of me. What about you, the big star and all?”

“A small star in a firmament of thousands.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You are so famous, I can’t help but tell everyone I know you. And they always know who I’m talking about.”

“Well, that’s sweet, but I’ve been away awhile. I don’t know how long you shine in that firmament.”

“The public’s memory isn’t that short. You should know. So, where do you go from here?”

“I have some decisions to make. But right now I have to call it a day,” she said, pushing back her chair. “I left about four tons of mail sitting on my dining room table waiting to be sorted, not to mention three hundred phone calls I have to make.”

“Getting back into the routine?” Benicia laughed.

“It will take a few weeks,” Althea said. “Will I see you again? Will you call me, if you have a chance? We can’t not see each other another ten years. And I would like to meet James.”

“I’ll call,” Benicia said vaguely.

Althea got into a cab, wondering if she would. She rode back home, her head filled with thoughts of Alabama, memories she usually preferred not to examine suddenly clamoring for attention…

Her mother leaving every night at nine to work the night shift at a local factory so she could be around Althea during the day; standing in line every other Monday, rain or shine, waiting with her mother for their food stamps; Tuesdays, free cheese distribution at the welfare center; Thursdays, the day stale bread was distributed by a nearby package outlet, and if Althea had been really good that week, if she had passed all her tests in school, her mother gave her fifty cents to buy a box of stale cupcakes.

All her mother’s hard work scrimping, Althea thought bitterly, and the most they had ever had to show for it? An ugly shack with four unpainted walls that barely supported a tin roof. The day Althea handed her mother the keys to a little red brick house, they had stood together on the porch and cried. They didn’t need words to know how far they had come, how long the walk had been. Her mother’s first steps into her new home had been Althea’s proudest moment.

Had it been worth it?

Yes, she thought, thinking back to Benicia’s question as she entered her apartment thirty minutes later. Throwing her keys in the blue Depression-glass bowl that sat on a gleaming refectory table, hanging her fur coat in the huge cedar closet, putting the tea to boil on her Viking stove. Yes, she thought, as she looked out at the view over the brawniest city in the world—and she a part of it—yes, it had been worth it.