by Claude Chabot
Lily had found the powder room in haste, and rapidly finishing her customary ablutions before the start of the feature, hurried to the stairs. This was her ritual before every picture she had seen, and though she could resist it, she felt fully at ease only when washing her hands and combing her hair, and the daubing of needed powder on her face made her feel worthy of the evening’s entertainment. She looked at herself one last time: the flaxen hair (just like Veronica or Lana!) framing the pretty, sensitive, and sometimes stubborn face of unblemished complexion.
As she hurried from the powder room to the stairs, she momentarily glimpsed down to the pristine black and white square brilliantly exuding its silver bath of light from the screen, vaguely illuminating the crimson edges of heavy velvet on either edge of the stage. For a moment she was startled by this unnatural gleam, the sudden, plunging view down to the screen and the orchestra seating, and with it a glimpse in blackest silhouette of other patrons’ heads and the railing before the void. Then she hurried down the shadowed recesses of the stairs from the loge with its dim steps, the swirling, chromatic Deco biomorphs she knew to be on the walls only feebly visible in dull monochromatic hues and shapes in the settled, comforting darkness.
She had hurried up and down these stairs hundreds of times since she was a little girl, and she was never betrayed by the surge of exultation and mystery she felt as she lingered at their bottom where the darkness was especially deep. The stairway ended and a small corridor curved out and away from the orchestra seats with heavy plum velvet curtains gathered together at the vestibule’s edge. This was intended to discourage patrons from using the loge lounges when they could more quietly find those downstairs beneath the theater. But Lily preferred to climb the steps to the less used, and she thought, more elegant ladies’ lounge at the top. For a moment she stood in the vestibule with its tiny house light, mostly dimmed, the only illumination afforded to guide one out from the vestibule’s heavy curtains, which had to be parted to exit. As she reached her hand out and gently moved one, the stentorian drone of the newsreel’s narrator that had been substantially muffled by the draperies, shrilly accosted her, followed by the blare of the closing fanfare and the strange, happy brilliance coming from the screen. She stumbled momentarily. Walking on level ground caused her to limp and lose her footing. When she descended steps she moved so easily that she could fleetingly pretend that the accident had never happened.
There were some coming attractions starting, and she carefully felt her way back to her seat to join Marion and Phoebe. She entered the center from the left and gently descended into her seat. The toasted, buttery odor of popcorn was stronger down here.
Marion turned to her, smiled, craned her head into her ear and whispered, “You made it back just in time. The picture’s starting.”
Lily smiled without responding and looked over to Phoebe who stared as if transfixed at the coming attractions presented to her. She rarely acknowledged Lily when they were out and Phoebe could hardly be bothered to turn her head just because someone had reseated themselves. Lily wondered why Phoebe came with them at all. Lily would have preferred Dora to join them, but she was nursing a cold.
But she was glad that she was out with anyone. It depressed her to be home with Mama listening to her radio programs. It had never depressed her before. Before…all these things had happened: Papa, Tommy, the accident and the war, always the war.
The girls had made dinner for themselves. Mama joined them but urged them off to the theater so they wouldn’t be late, offering to clean up and declining their invitations to join them. She said she had taken home some extra office work from Mr. Obermeyer she had to finish before tomorrow. She looked tired waving them off, dressed in a clean but faded housedress that embarrassed Lily. Lily didn’t understand this: they had plenty of money from Papa’s insurance and Mama didn’t need to be so frugal, but the girls didn’t seem to notice it. Mama acted happy, but not the way she used to be. Lily worried about Mama, but somehow felt trapped and angry by her own concern for her, and then guilty.
Outside as the girls’ shoes clicked in quick, smart precision the cool, barely moist evening air wafted over them. There was a moon and the air and sky were strangely clear. They walked the quiet streets of the residential neighborhood to the little downtown, and crossing the tracks of the small station, the Warner Paradise came into view as they turned a bend in the road, its marquee busily circulating in brilliant, jewel-like orbits around the title of the feature.
Now the picture was starting and Lily came back to herself. She loved the shield and the music. It was all so thrilling. She loved the movies. She loved the darkness, and she loved her friends. She could forget a little here. She could always forget a little here.
She knew the picture was going to be good because of the way they did those fancy titles, and the way the story started. It was what they called a flashback. And all the papers had raved about Joan Crawford and the other stars. She knew it was going to be good and now she was certain she wasn’t going to be disappointed. As the picture progressed she grew less and less aware of her surroundings. It was so vivid, so real in its movie way. She wished she could be like Mildred and work her way up from a waitress job to own a string of restaurants, even if she did have to suffer. Joan suffered so beautifully and so well. It was nothing like the real thing. Even if Joan did have such a nasty, ungrateful daughter. It all seemed to come to a climax in that one scene. Ann Blyth was really bad and brother did she come on strong! What a stinker!
I’ll say things are going to be different. Why do you think I went to all this trouble? Why do you think I want money so badly?
All right why?
Are you sure you want to know?
Yes!
Then I’ll tell you. With this money I can get away from every rotten stinking thing that makes me think of this place or you!
Veda!
Joan was really shocked. You could tell from the way she said “Veda,” all long and drawn out and dramatic and everything, but somehow real.
Lily was unaware of anything for the rest of the picture, so engrossed in the goings on on-screen. The ending was happy, but not too happy. Joan lost all her money but got back together with her husband. Veda was a lost cause. The audience knew that in the first half hour of the picture. Lily wondered why movie characters were sometimes so slow about the other characters or what was happening to them.
“With this money I can get away…” Lily thought to herself as they exited the theater.
“With this money…” Lily repeated to her friends after the movie, “with this money I can get away from every rotten stinking thing that makes me think of this place or you!”
Marion and Phoebe giggled. Phoebe actually seemed human at times; Lily had to admit. But as they were walking home, she spoiled this impression by talking on and on about the lighting and the makeup and the performances. Lily was certainly aware that all these things were present and contributed to her enjoyment of the picture, but she preferred not to think about them. She took things as they came. Marion turned to her once and winked at her while Phoebe talked and talked. No wonder she was going to college. No wonder she said she was going to be a lawyer. Fancy that, a lady lawyer! Everyone knew girls didn’t become lawyers. But Phoebe thought she was, and as much as Lily didn’t like her, Phoebe was going away to school and Lily knew she would miss her if only because she was dependably ridiculous. Marion was getting married to that Italian boy from Brooklyn. Lily had been a little shocked at her marrying an Italian, but he had finished college and was going onto a good job at something to do with shipping and the sea. The wedding was this summer, a month after graduation, and then they were moving to San Francisco.
Lily tried not to think about all these changes; school ending, friends leaving, time passing. And what was she doing? She was going to be working with Mama in Mr. Obermeyer’s law office a few blocks away. Anyway, it would fill the time until she decided what she might do with her life, and she would have some money of her own. This would give her some independence from Mama. And she might make new friends. She might meet a boy. Mama said not to worry, that she would meet a new boy, a nice new boy who would love her because of who she was, because she was still beautiful even with the limp and she mustn’t exaggerate it in her mind because no one really noticed. But after the accident and her recovery Ted had simply stopped calling. He noticed it. Mama said it was best, because who would want a husband like that who couldn’t help you and love you when things were difficult? She knew Mama was right. She knew she had to stop worrying about how people looked at her. It was only really when she didn’t do her exercises and take her hot baths that her leg stiffened and she started to limp again.
She never understood what had caused the accident. The driver said he shouted at her but she stepped off the curb into moving traffic anyway. She must have been thinking about Papa, gone one sunny morning a year before. She had found him in bed bringing up his breakfast because he said he hadn’t felt well the night before and couldn’t walk too well. She was going to bring him to the doctor that morning with Mama. She had to stop thinking about the empty stare he had when she came in with the breakfast tray. She had dropped the tray and started screaming. She wished she could stop remembering his empty stare.
Then the news came not so long after Papa died that Tommy had been killed. The older brother she never knew too well and whom she would now never know. Those dirty, dirty Nazis! He had always treated her so gallantly, like another father really, even though he was just three years older. After this, Lily had stopped going to school for a while and was in such a fog most of the time, the doctors blamed that for the accident. She had stepped right out into the street when the light had changed to red and she wasn’t aware of it. She felt a little like that tonight, absorbed by the picture she had just seen and not paying attention to Marion and Phoebe’s conversation, but she wasn’t sure why. She kept recalling that one particular scene between Mildred and Veda.
I’ll say things are going to be different…
She said good night suddenly and left the perplexed girls on the sidewalk in front of the little frame house with the porch and apple trees out back. It was late and they all had school the next day.
Lily let herself in. Mama had left the light on in the foyer. The rest of the house was dark but she knew Mama was still probably up, and even as she thought this a voice drifted down from upstairs, “Is that you Lily?”
“Yes, Mama.” She climbed the stairs slowly, again thinking of that scene and its drama. Its promise of freedom buoyed her up and up and she forgot her limp.
Why do you think I want money so badly?
All right why?
Are you sure you want to know?
Yes!
Maybe because she was tired of feeling sad, and her leg being in pain and seeing Mama looking so tired and old and smiling all the time to cover it up. Maybe because she wanted to go away to somewhere where things were going to be different.
Why do you think I want money so badly?
All right why?
With this money I can get away from every rotten stinking thing that makes me think of this place or you!
“Lily!” The voice was insistent and shaken.
“Yes Mama?”
“You’ve just been standing there at the top of the stairs with a funny look in your eye for I don’t know how long!”
She finally realized that her mother had come out of the bedroom and was staring at her. She was daydreaming again. Mama looked pretty in her silk kimono and in the dim light she looked younger than she had in awhile.
“Did you enjoy the picture? I was thinking of seeing it with Mrs. Obermeyer this week. Did you like it?”
“Yes. That’s what I was thinking about just now.” She looked away from Mama; she couldn’t meet her eyes.
“It must have been good; you certainly were far away. I must say I worry about this daydreaming Lily. We don’t want another accident.”
“Oh, I’m much more careful outside now.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I worry about you so. “
“I know you do. I worry about you, too.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but looked relieved. “Is your homework done?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Now I was just going to make some hot chocolate before going to bed. Would you like to join me?”
Her mother smiled at her and touched her shoulder and Lily fell into her, her mother looking somewhat surprised at this sudden lunge into a hug.
“Oh, Mama!” she cried out, “of course I want hot chocolate with you!” and they turned, the daughter leading the way down the stairs to the kitchen. For a little while all the horrors with the accident and Papa and Tommy and the dirty Nazis were impotent phantoms that never could and never would penetrate the snug warmth of their kitchen.
Category: Featured, Short Story