Becoming Ellen (18 page)

I
t was much later that Ellen made her way out of the bathroom and into her bed. A solid eight hours of sleep ended and she opened her eyes to a darkened window. Night had fallen and she had slept straight through. Slightly panicked, she checked the clock radio. It was only seven thirty, plenty of time to get to work.

Ellen got up, dressed, and went downstairs. Temerity was playing the violin under the big windows, and the sound plucked at Ellen's heart. Though it was beautiful, it sounded to her like loneliness calling her name. On the floor at Temerity's feet were the plain white sheets of the perforated music score that had been delivered. Temerity stopped when Ellen crossed the floor.

“Sleep well?” she asked.

“I thought you had a concert tonight.”

“Nope, this afternoon. Special show for schoolkids. I'm already back,” Temerity said.

“Have you heard from Seth?” Ellen asked as she made herself some coffee.

Temerity's brow furrowed. “No, not since this morning, but I didn't really expect to. Did you?”

Ellen sat down on one of the stools and told Temerity about her visit to the state facility, her exchange with Lydia, what the grown-ups had discussed, and finally, about Seth's exam at the clinic that morning.

Temerity listened eagerly. When Ellen had finished, she said, “He shouldn't be in that freezing basement, he won't be able to get better. What time do you need to get on the bus?”

“Nine is good.”

“Terrific, then there's time.” Temerity actually rubbed her hands together so briskly that Ellen half expected sparks.

“For what?” Ellen asked.

Temerity faced her almost directly and smiled radiantly. “You never know what the day will bring.”

“Or the night, as the case may be,” Ellen said, turning to look at the bleak, freezing evening outside.

“Oh, is it dark? I hadn't noticed,” Temerity said drolly, and then she laughed. A laugh that was round and unapologetically fat, but filled with life and fearless delight—Temerity's laugh. “Makes no difference to me.”

Ellen wished she could say the same, but she couldn't.

She preferred the dark, where it was easier to hide and there were far fewer eyes to see, except, possibly, Temerity's.

What the night would bring, Ellen discovered, was a party at a gallery. Temerity had been invited and she wanted Ellen to go with her.

“You want me to go to a
party
?” Ellen choked, the calm from her extended bath and sleep evaporating instantly.

“You don't have to wear sequins and toot a horn,” Temerity told her. “You don't even have to go in. I just need you to check it out for me. You know, give me the layout. Usually, I wouldn't go to an art show, what's the point?” she said with a cackle. “But the artist is the sister of someone in the orchestra, so I said I'd make an appearance.” Temerity laughed again.

Ellen didn't like the look of the gallery at all. It was brightly lit, with huge sidewalk-to-ceiling windows through which she could see an open space with nowhere to hide. Huge, colorful canvases were dramatically lit on the brick walls, and in the center of the room sat a grand piano, the player with his back to them.

“Okay, this is as far as I go,” Ellen told Temerity. “The door is about ten steps ahead on your right.”

“Can you see in?” Temerity asked, unfolding her stick as she let go of Ellen's shoulder.

“Perfectly. It's like a big fish tank.”

“Adult swim. Not your favorite thing, the adult swim,” Temerity said grimly. “Okay, thanks for helping me out. Wish me luck.”

“'Luck,” said Ellen, though she didn't for a second think that her fearless friend would need it. Ellen watched Temerity go in and then she shifted herself to stand just off the curb between two parked SUVs. One of the bumpers was the right height to perch herself on, so she did, bracing one foot against the bumper in front of her. It must have been overly warm in the gallery, because the door was propped open, and Ellen could hear the murmur of conversation. The evening was frigid, and Ellen's breath hung in the air in front of her. She blew into her hands in their loosely knit mittens, purchased at the thrift shop, and hoped that Seth was keeping warm.

Watching Temerity enter a new space was always a worthy exercise, not because of Temerity, who did almost everything with complete confidence, but because of the other people watching her. Tonight the “other people” were stylishly dressed, painstakingly groomed beautifuls. “Beautifuls” were what Ellen called the type of people who would watch themselves go by in a window reflection, completely oblivious to the fact that a murder was being committed just inside. Ellen saw them on the street often enough, constantly checking to make sure they were being noticed while pretending complete disdain for the presence of the unattractive others. Ellen's keen observing had long ago taught her that these people thrived on the attention of those others, without whom they were nothing. And now these people, their self-worth so obviously reliant on their physical appearance, so certain that they were more valuable than their less-attractive fellow beings, were faced by a person for whom physical appearance had no meaning, and they had no idea how to respond to that. Temerity and her blindness rendered them worthless.

It was fun to watch.

Temerity stopped a few feet inside the gallery and turned slowly, unaware, except perhaps for the change in the conversational murmur, that everyone there had turned to watch her warily.

Ellen watched the beautifuls shift uncomfortably. Suddenly, with a little cry of delight, a tall, effeminate man called out, “Temerity Bauer, sexy, darling,
gorgeous
girl!” and rushed toward her. Temerity smiled and turned toward him as he descended on her, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her toward a group of people who were obviously her musician friends. He snatched a glass of champagne from a tray and pushed it into her hand that wasn't holding the stick. Temerity laughed and Ellen relaxed.

She settled in to wait. Temerity hadn't said she should, but she had some time before she needed to reboard the bus, and watching this spectacle through the picture glass was enjoyable, like a parade from the safety of a balcony.

The cold air could not stop the warm sensation of pride that Ellen felt as she watched her friend mingle and amuse. She was obviously popular. No surprise there, Ellen thought. She had never known anyone so kind or so brave, and Ellen treasured even the twinge of jealousy that Temerity's admiration inspired.

A tall, swarthy man positioned himself near her friend. He leaned down and spoke in Temerity's ear, and Ellen could tell from the way Temerity shifted away and crinkled her nose, her smile stiffening, that she did not care for him. The man's shirt was unbuttoned too far down, revealing a furry chest. Ellen smiled. Between Temerity's reaction to the man's scent and the hair, she knew this must be the infamous bassoonist.

Ellen wished she could go in and rescue her friend, but it was unthinkable, and it wasn't like Temerity was in danger. Ellen mused on what it would be like to meet someone and not be able to see what they looked like. She realized that she based the majority of her assessments on the physical. Not if someone was pretty, or skinny, or old, but the way they dressed, they treated others, their mannerisms all told her so much. Without that . . . Well, for Temerity it was different, she knew.

And then she saw exactly how different. Temerity was listening to the lascivious bassoonist with her head tilted slightly away from him, looking rather bored. But in an instant her face changed and she turned away, straightening up. Then, after a word to her suitor, who looked affronted, she began to drift toward the piano.

Through the open door, Ellen could hear the punctuated murmurs of conversation, laughter, and piano music filtering out onto the sidewalk. Listening hard, Ellen thought she recognized the music the pianist was playing, and she felt excited.
I know that music,
she thought proudly, though she didn't remember from where.

But the connection was made as she watched Temerity stop a few steps away from the piano and stand with a look of fascinated concentration on her face. Ellen couldn't see the man at the piano, because his back was to her, but she could see him watching Temerity. When the piece ended, Temerity raised her hands and clapped with delight, but was immediately intercepted by a group of women, who began an animated conversation with her.

The piano player stood and crossed to where they were standing. Ellen caught her breath as she recognized him, though he looked considerably different from when she'd seen him in his pajama pants on the landing. He stopped behind Temerity, very close, but not touching. He pretended to study one of the large pictures, but Ellen could see that he was taking in Temerity. She watched as her friend seemed to sense his presence, and she knew Temerity had “recognized” him, too, though in her own way—from his music or his scent, instead of his face. She half turned, and one hand went to her throat, but then one of the women took her arm and led her away, laughing, to another group of people.

The cold seeped more deeply into Ellen. She knew, of course, that Temerity had other friends, but this was the first time she'd seen her in a social group like this, and old feelings of isolation loomed up. She felt boneless, frightened that she might lose what she had such a tenuous hold on. Temerity was part of something bigger, but the idea of joining in was as foreign and as frightening to Ellen as leaping from a plane. The thought of going back to a life without Temerity and Justice felt like a screaming wind rushing past her as she fell, out of control.

Ellen turned and made her way back to the bus stop, where she stood in the cold, wondering if she would ever be brave enough to do more than stand on the side and watch.

And then she remembered something that Temerity had said about the piano player. “Why disappoint us both?”

And she knew that her courageous friend, too, had chinks in her armor. Vulnerabilities and uncertainties about her own worth in a world that valued what she couldn't even appreciate.

Stupid world.

A
half hour later, Ellen was rounding the side of the building, making her way to the loading dock entrance, when a side door, an emergency exit that Ellen had only ever seen closed, suddenly opened. She stopped and slid between two dumpsters, up against the cement-block wall, a few feet away from the six or so stairs that led to this door.

Eric was standing in the doorway, and he wasn't alone. “I'm sorry about this, I really am,” Billy, the general manager was saying, “but this was one too many incidents, and I have to fire you.”

“This blows!” Eric shouted, clearly in a rage. As he stepped onto the small landing and spun to face Billy, Ellen could see that two security guards were behind the general manager. “This is Thelma's fault and you know it. I'll sue for wrongful termination.”

Billy was tense, but he kept his voice low. “That's not the story everyone else told, including the security cameras. I don't know if you've been drinking, or doing drugs—”

“How dare you accuse me!” Eric raged.

“You've been seen,” Billy interrupted him. “According to a few other employees, they've observed you using drugs, and I just can't take that responsibility when people's safety is at stake. Be grateful I didn't have you tested last night. I would have, if someone had gotten hurt.”

“What
other
employees?” Eric demanded. “Who? I want names. I'll bet it was that little gnome Rosa, and her stick-figure friend.”

Billy shook his head, the yellow light over the door rimming his balding head with a strange halo. “That's enough, Eric. The fact that you took a swing at Thelma
tonight
means you have to go—no matter what. You're lucky
she
isn't pressing charges. You've cleaned out your locker and you'll receive two weeks' severance, but I do not want to see you back here.”

“Oh, you won't see me again,” Eric said meanly. “But I'll be around. You'd better watch your step.”

Billy leaned forward. “Are you threatening me?”

Eric, who had now descended the steps and was looking up, shrugged and said, “Take it any way you want to.”

The GM sighed and shook his head. “Just go. Do yourself a favor and don't come back.” He went inside, past the guards, who waited, arms crossed, until Eric had performed another rude gesture and strode away into the parking lot.

Ellen waited until the door closed, then she hurried on through the building and into the locker room. She changed, took her notebook and pen, and went to the broom closet. Sitting on the folding chair, she wrote down in her book what she'd heard, adding the comment
If the drugs are still there, he'll have to come back.

When she was relatively sure the halls would be sparsely peopled, Ellen checked the chart and got to work. She had the bakery section of fresh foods, and though she usually didn't care much for the open area, tonight she was glad, as it gave her a chance to watch Thelma, who, to Ellen's relief, seemed uninjured.

Just before the meal break, Rosa approached Thelma, who was stacking netted bags of onions into a pyramid on a raised countertop. The squat cleaner was holding a brown paper bag. She cleared her throat. “Thelma?” she said.

Thelma turned and looked at her. “Oh, hi, Rosa. I'm glad I didn't hurt you too badly last night.”

“I'm so happy that Eric finally got fired!” Rosa told her. “He almost killed me, and if it wasn't for you, I . . . might not be here tonight.” She shook her head and pressed her lips together in anger. “I cannot believe he tried to hit you. I'm so sorry.”

Thelma stopped what she was doing and put her hands on her hips. “
I'm
not, if it means he's gone. I only wish I could have kicked him back!” She laughed.

Rosa giggled. “I'm glad it was me who saw him do it! That'll teach him to mess with us tough ladies.”

“I hope so! Thank you for speaking up, by the way. I know that isn't easy. Eric is just one of those people who absolutely cannot admit to making any kind of mistake. They have to blame it on everyone else.” Thelma paused and looked at the bag, neatly folded at the top, that Rosa was holding.

“What's that?” Thelma asked.

“Tamales. I made them for you. I hope you and your . . . girlfriend, like them.”

“Oh my gosh,” Thelma exclaimed, a big smile splitting her face. “We
love
tamales. That is so nice of you Rosa, thank you. You really didn't have to, but . . . I'm glad you did!” She took the bag as Rosa thrust it at her. “Beth will be so excited.”

Rosa blushed. “Chicken and pork. It's no big deal. I just wanted to give you that. So, I'll see you later.”

Thelma offered her hand to Rosa, who looked taken aback at the—in her world—male gesture, but she shook it shyly and then hustled away. Opening the bag, Thelma put her face in it and took a long sniff, then came up eyes gleaming. “Yum,” she murmured. She put the bag carefully on the pushcart holding the sacks of onions and went back to work.

It was close to quitting time when Ellen made her way to the dock. The restrooms looked deserted. Ellen went to the men's room, knocked, and shimmied behind some boxes. When no one came out, she gathered the stepladder and a broom, went in, and climbed up to check the loose ceiling tile.

The package was still there.

So Eric hadn't had time to remove it before he was escorted out by security, as she'd expected.

When the shift finished, Ellen did her usual slink out the dock. She was snaking her way through the employee parking lot toward the street when she saw a suspicious shape moving furtively among the parked cars. Stooping down, she watched the man, dressed entirely in black, through the windows of a sedan.

As he turned toward her, Ellen got a quick glimpse of Eric before he lowered a black ski mask over his face. Then he slipped behind a minivan and did not emerge from the other side.

Ellen glanced back at the building, but the dock looked deserted at the moment. Then she heard voices coming from the direction of the employee entrance, and twisted to see Rosa and Kiki walking toward the van with Johnson and a younger man she didn't know. When they were twenty feet from it, Johnson split off. “Good night, ladies. 'Night, Jimmy! Drive careful!” He went to an ancient Toyota, pulled out his keys, got in, and sped away as though escaping a war zone.

The other three proceeded to the minivan. Kiki went to the driver's door, and Rosa and Jimmy went to the passenger side, waiting for Kiki to unlock the doors. Ellen's palms were sweaty on the sedan. She saw a small shape break the outline of the back of the van as Eric leaned out around it. Ellen felt a scream rising in her throat, but it was choked off by fear. She
couldn't
make herself known, and what could she do against a full-grown man bent on hurting someone thirty feet away? Then there would be police to talk to, too many questions. The very thought of it made her feel that her chest had been opened by a zipper that was rusty, broken, and would never close again.

Ellen searched around, desperate for some way of alerting the three people to the danger without revealing herself. A brick to throw, anything. Then, in the car she was crouching next to, she saw a small blinking light on the dashboard.

At the van, Ellen saw the dark shape of Eric emerge from the back and advance toward Jimmy and Rosa, who had their backs to him. Eric's hand, holding something, rose into the air, and Ellen lifted up, turned around, and sat down as hard as she could on the bumper.

The car rocked and the alarm blared, magnified by the pavement, to assault the quiet of the predawn. Ellen bounced, ungracefully, down onto the asphalt, but as she did, she caught a glimpse of Eric's form running away. Kiki was staring toward the blaring sedan, but Rosa was stooped over Jimmy, who was sprawled on the asphalt. Ellen could just see his head and shoulders next to the wheel of the van.

“Jimmy!” Rosa was screaming. “Help! Jimmy's been hurt! Somebody, help!”

On her hands and knees in front of the sedan's bumper, Ellen scrambled, still on all fours, along the row of cars until she came to the last one, then she stood up and ran for the shadows without looking back.

Because she needed a long sit in the park to calm down, Ellen didn't get home until after nine. When she did, she was surprised to find Rupert standing in the kitchen, a large apron tied around his larger midsection.

“Hi, Ellen!” Temerity called out. “Rupert is making a cake for my parents' anniversary. It's their thirtieth, and we're all going for a lunch today. We can't do dinner because of my concert tonight.”

Ellen waved shyly at Rupert but couldn't make any eye contact. This wasn't a big problem because Rupert seldom could either. She put her stuff down and came over, drawn by the magic. “What flavor?” she asked.

“Red velvet,” Rupert said. Ellen was intrigued.

“Is that, like, strawberry?” she asked with interest.

“No, it's more of a fake chocolate, but it doesn't taste like chocolate,” Temerity said. “You'll have to wait and taste it later.”

“But you're taking it to your parents',” Ellen reminded her.

Temerity hummed and swayed happily. “I'm taking you, too.”

Ellen jerked in surprise, then she remembered Justice asking her to visit them. “I can't do that.”

Temerity performed an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, listen. You don't have to participate, at all. You can sit in a corner, or go outside and walk around in the trees all by yourself. Both my parents are psychiatrists, like I said, so they won't have any judgment if you prefer to keep to yourself. I want them to meet you, though, and I thought you'd be more comfortable doing it there. Also, Justice doesn't know this yet, but we're going to stop by and check on Lydia on the way.”

That changed things a bit. Ellen
had
promised. Though her scalp was prickling with the trepidation she always felt when there was a possibility of being observed, Ellen had to concede that the parents of Temerity and Justice were most likely discreet people.

“When you say ‘check on' . . .” Ellen began.

“I mean that, while we're on our outing, we're going to drive past, see if anyone is home, and if they are, sneak into the trees and check up on her.”

Well, that sounded okay, but the door buzzer sounded before Ellen could finish formulating a decision about the “outing,” a word that worked on two levels for her.

“It's Seth,” Temerity said as she hung up the phone. “He's on his way up. I'm going to have him go to the post office and the grocery store. You know, get him a couple of hours' work.”

Ellen nodded, wanting to hide, but she had a question first.

“Did you talk to him?” she asked.

“Who?” Temerity said.

“The, you know, the piano guy, from downstairs. He was at the party last night.”

Temerity colored slightly and started toward the door. “No, I didn't see him.” The joke was familiar, but for the first time it lacked buoyancy.

“He saw
you
,” Ellen said. “And he looked really pleased about it.”

“He was just happy that at least one person wasn't shouting over his playing.”

Not wanting to push her, Ellen went to the hallway door. Leaving it partway open, she waited just inside the hall until Seth arrived at the landing. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. When the knock came, Temerity opened the door. Runt was barking and making his usual ruckus, then he went out onto the landing and began to whimper. Ellen heard Temerity call out, “Come on in.”

But no one did. From across the large room, Ellen couldn't see out the front door, but she could see Rupert standing in the kitchen, focused on whatever was through the doorway with his brow furrowed. Suddenly he moved. Dropping the measuring cup in his hand back into the bowl, he hustled across the room with his hitching, rolling gait and gently but firmly moved Temerity aside. As he did, he called out, “Ellen! Justice!”

Without even thinking, Ellen threw the door open and rushed to the doorway. Seth was lying on his back on the landing, his eyes rolling upward as he gasped for breath and tried to orient himself. Ellen spun and ran back to the hallway. She knew, of course, which door led to Justice's bedroom, but she had never even knocked on it. She did so now without a second's hesitation.

Justice opened the door immediately, having apparently heard Rupert's plea. He was wearing pajama pants, and at the large bed behind him, Dr. Amanda was stooping for a robe. Ellen averted her gaze. “It's Seth,” she panted.

She felt the wind as Justice bolted past her. In a few seconds he had lifted the semiconscious boy and carried him to the sofa, with Rupert helping the best he could. Temerity trailed behind, finding the throw blanket and tucking it around the shivering child.

Amanda appeared in a dressing gown and knelt beside the boy. “What do we have here?” she asked steadily, and Ellen knew that her projected calm was good medicine.

“He has bronchitis, and he's on antibiotics, but listen, he cannot go to the hospital, unless it's absolutely necessary,” Justice told her quickly. “Not yet,” he added.

“We do have another option if we need it,” Temerity told her.

“Justice, get my bag,” Amanda instructed. “I need the stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff. What's his name?”

“Seth,” three people said at once.

At the sound of his name, the coughing boy's eyes fluttered open in alarm and he gazed around in a fevered panic.

“Okay, Seth,” Amanda said soothingly. “You're going to be fine. We just have to clear your lungs a bit. I'm going to need you to sit up.” She rocked him forward, resting his chest along her left forearm to support his weight, and began to strike his back with the open palm of her right hand, not too hard, but you could hear the liquid thump. Seth coughed again, this time fruitfully, and Rupert pulled a dish towel from where he'd tucked it in the tie of his apron and held it for Seth to spit the mucus out. In a few minutes, the congestion had lessened and Seth was able to sit, propped up by pillows, while Amanda examined him.