Being Audrey Hepburn (21 page)

“I know. Jess was worried about that. But aren’t they incredible?” I said, grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears from my cheeks.

Nan nodded. “I was mostly surprised that you’d cut and changed them so dramatically. But the reworking was indeed impressive. Your friend Jess is quite brilliant. It made me realize that those dresses weren’t meant to stay in a storage box. They were meant to play a part of some romantic adventure. They were meant to be worn
dancing
.”

“That’s what I told Jess!” I said. “She didn’t want to alter them, but then the first one was such a hit that she’s created a whole look.”

We flipped back through the clippings in the scrapbook, and I gave Nan details on every dress, where I wore it and who I met. I spilled everything about Being Audrey. I worried at first that she’d be disappointed in me for pretending to be something I wasn’t, but her expression grew more interested and astonished as I shared every delicious detail.

“You are so absolutely stunning in these dresses,” she added.

“It’s all Jess. She did an incredible job on them, really,” I said.

“Stop, Lisbeth.” She held my chin up and gazed deeply into my eyes. “Look at me. You are
beautiful
. You always have been. I often wondered why you didn’t see that. And it’s important that you know now. You are smart, clever, original, and beautiful. It’s the most wonderful combination, and I am
proud
of you.”

We hugged that Nan heart-melding hug, and it was such a relief to be with her, to know that she loved me and understood.

“Of course, I worry that I’ve filled your head with too many stories about how wonderful the old days were.”

“But Nan, they are the most amazing stories,” I said, feeling a bit defensive.

“Well, it’s good to see you making your own memories and not only living off of mine. Now you’ll have your own to look back on and cherish. That’s why I wanted you to have this scrapbook.”

I was so moved, I didn’t know how to thank her. My eyes found hers, and she gave me such a warm look I almost broke down and started crying again, but I wanted to keep it together.

“I still have a hard time believing that the trust funders accepted me so readily,” I said, recovering. I cut each of us a slice of cake.

“I’m not,” said Nan, taking a forkful of chocolate. “You’re intelligent and vivacious, and that’s appealing to any social group. Besides, it’s all about money with these people, and if you appear to have money or they
think
you have money, then they are intrigued. Otherwise, how could you be with
them
if you didn’t have money?”

“You don’t think it’s lame that I’ve been just acting like Audrey?”

“You may have started that way, but at this point I think it’s something more,” she said. “Even Audrey Hepburn was pretending to be Audrey—until she was, that is. When Audrey started out, much like you, she was operating solely on her charm, wits, spirit, and personal style. She never quite felt like she belonged; she was never fully prepared for what she was about to do next. She just jumped right in and hoped for the best. Eventually, she became the kind of woman we all assumed she was from the very beginning.”

“But Audrey did
something
. She danced, she acted,” I said. “My friends, Jess, Jake, they know what they want to do with their lives. They know who they want to be. I’m playacting. Do you think there’s a way I can turn my passion into something?”

“Well, you’re going to college, sweetie, that will help, won’t it?”

My eyes dropped and I nodded, hoping she didn’t take too much note of my response.

Nan took my fingers in her smooth, cool hands. “Be true to yourself, Lisbeth. It doesn’t matter that you’ve used Audrey Hepburn as a starting point. The most important thing is where you end up, and that you use this experience to become the best
Lisbeth
you can be.”

“Oh Nan, it sounds so possible when you say it.” Throwing my arms around her neck, I hugged her again. I needed so many hugs.

Feeling better, I scooped a gob of whip cream frosting with my finger, popping it into my mouth.

“I want to give you something,” Nan said, rising from the couch thoughtfully and walking to the sideboard. She opened one of the lower drawers.

She was holding a bracelet I had never seen before—a simple platinum band. She hesitated a moment, looking at it in her hand, then returned to the couch.

“This is from my days back then. It’s a gift from one of the ‘boys,’ and I want you to have it.”

“Nan, it’s lovely,” I said.

“And remember,” Nan said, jutting her jaw forward and stroking her chin—her version of a movie mobster—“one day I may come to you for a favor.” Her voice was an octave lower and raspy, an almost perfect Don Corleone impression. I couldn’t stop laughing.

“What exactly is this?” I asked.

“It’s a talisman for protection, inscribed by an old boyfriend of mine,” she added. “It will go fabulously with those dresses, and maybe it will keep you safe.”

I turned the bracelet in my hands. It was elegant just like Nan. Inside, there was an inscription in Latin:
TUAM TUTAM TENEBO, SAMMY G
. I marveled at how stylish and mysterious it was.

“Be careful, Lisbeth,” Nan added. “As Sammy used to say, ‘a liar’s mouth can be full of truth, but he’s still a liar.’ Be careful who you trust.”

As the platinum band slipped effortlessly around my wrist, I marveled at its soft beauty.

“By the way, dear, I think you should know—your mother has seen the photos, too.”

30

“Why does everything I do for you involve lots of repetitive physical work?” I asked Jess as we pushed her steamer trunk up the five flights of stairs to her new digs in Chinatown.

The scent of decomposing fruit, roasted chestnuts, and fresh fish intermingled with stale frying oil, the heated exhaust of industrial fans, and the cigarette smoke of the Asian men working in the market downstairs: Chinatown was one of those parts of New York that you could pick out blindfolded by the pungent smells alone. All those odors floated up through Jess’s new neighborhood.

Jess had packed her mom’s station wagon with all her worldly possessions—three battered trunks filled with her own designs, as well as fabrics and salvaged clothes that represented years of flea market and church store scavenging. She also had two sewing machines, including a serger that she bought at a yard sale, three dress forms, and a cool antique sewing box filled with the tattered marble composition books she used as journals.

It was Jess’s big move. In return for my moving skills, she promised to help me get my Purple Beast out of the Hudson Street parking lot. I needed to borrow some money to do it. I hadn’t been back for three days, and I was sure my beast missed me, although the parking guys were probably wondering by now if someone had left a body in the trunk.

I actually liked lugging stuff around with Jess for a while. It seemed so normal after the last few days of high drama. The situation at home with Ryan and Mom was intense. The Hole wasn’t the same without Jess, and it was awkward around Jake. I felt like he was avoiding me, not that I could blame him.

Hauling dress forms and sewing machines up five flights of stairs was good distraction therapy, and Jess’s apartment was awesome.

Okay, it didn’t look awesome; in fact, it looked downright crappy. The building, 507 East Broadway, was home to a former sweatshop, after all. Jess said that, only a few years ago, there used to be sixty-three people per floor in the buildings around here. From the window in the stairwell, you could spy a sweatshop that was still in operation, where women were bent over sewing machines making cheap polyester clothes on the sixth floor of the building across the street. Even in Jess’s converted space, you could see the lines on the floor where the walls that divided the room into tiny sections used to be.

But as grim as it was, the raw space was awesome because of what it represented—the city, a place of her own, freedom. Jess would make it ubercool. With lots of raw brick walls, no windows except one in the bathroom, and a big skylight—it was the perfect interior design challenge for Jess’s imagination. Jess said that it was fitting that her first apartment was a sweatshop; it suited her sense of industry.

The last thing we carried up the stairs was Jess’s futon mattress, which we threw against the back wall beneath the skylight.

“Graduating high school meant nothing, you going to college first meant nothing, your first girlfriend meant nothing, but the first apartment in the city all your own—that’s a big deal between friends,” I said as I flopped down on the mattress.

Jess dropped down beside me.

“Jessica Giovanna Pagliazzi, you have my official admiration, envy, and undying resentment.”

“Yeah, pretty crazy, huh?” Jess said, leaning back against the wall.

“Someday I hope I’ll do it, too,” I said.

“So does your mom know yet?”

“That I’m dressing up in Nan’s Chanels and crashing galas at the Met?”

“No, that you’re not going to college.”

“Oh, that.” I took a deep breath. “She’s snooping around. She knows something is going on. I’ve got to get out of there before it blows up. Ryan is way too weird. He’s always baiting Mom, and she might have to homeschool him if they don’t take him off suspension. But why she hasn’t shut him down is even stranger.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to school after all? I mean, you could change your mind, right?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I can’t bear to live at home,” I said. “I wish I had more options.”

“Have you seen Jake?”

“I saw him at work. I can tell he’s moved on, and I don’t even know what to say to him. I’ve got to get out of there.”

“You know, you can actually get out any time,” Jess said.

“Yeah, sure.” I couldn’t help staring at her like she was nuts.

“You could get a place of your own if you really wanted to.”

“I couldn’t even afford a deposit, but it’s a nice thought,” I said.

“Well, you could stay here,” Jess offered. “I mean, you’ll have to pay rent after a while—when you get a job. Hell, there are plenty of restaurants and diners in Manhattan with lots better tips than the Hole.”

“Really? I wish I could…” I leaned back against the wall. “I don’t know. I just feel so adrift about everything.”

I was going ask Jess if she thought she’d come home much. But before I could say anything, she leaned toward me, and, honestly, why I didn’t see it coming is beyond me.

My eyes caught hers as she paused for a second a fraction away from my lips. It wasn’t indecision; I could tell she wanted to give me the chance to know what was about to happen. I felt her warm breath brush my cheek and then slowly our lips touched. Her breath took mine away. I closed my eyes as I felt her fingertips on my face, in my hair, pulling me nearer, and I thought about how many times we were close enough to do this but never did. It was something that had occurred to me dozens of times, but we never talked about.

When Jess came out in the tenth grade, I was the last one to know. She never confided in me, so when I found out from all of our friends, I walked right up to her in study hall and told her that it was totally cool with me that she was gay, but if she ever didn’t tell me something important like that, we were through.

“I was afraid,” Jess said at the time, “that if I told you, we wouldn’t be friends anymore.”

That’s what I was thinking while we kissed—not surprised that we were kissing but wondering why we had never kissed before. How long we kissed I couldn’t tell you, but when it was over, I just sat there for the longest time, breathless.

“Kissing is such a strange thing,” I felt compelled to say for some reason. “I don’t know about you, but I tend to avoid people’s spit, I mean…”

“It’s okay,” Jess said. “I just wanted to do that. We’re cool.”

“But I don’t…”

“You don’t have to. It’s all right,” Jess said.

“Was that something you thought about for a while or just did?”

“Thought about lots of times and don’t know why, just did, now.”

“Oh,” I said, and just sat there. “A lot of times?”

“Yeah,” she said, and we both laughed.

“Wow, so that’s what it’s like.”

“Kinda.” Jess stood up, breaking the moment. “Well, I guess, we better get your car.” She put her hand out to help me off the futon.

“Yeah, we should,” I said, feeling disoriented as she helped me up and somehow disappointed that we weren’t going to talk about it more.

“Right, and I better get to class,” Jess said. “Let’s get the Beast out of hock, and you can drop me off at FIT on your way home.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jess opened the closet and grabbed a Chanel jacket that she had reworked to make the waist more shapely. Then she plucked out a pair of jeans on a hanger.

“I scored some True Religions that were on loan to the school for a photo shoot that I
have
to return first thing Monday. I’m pretty sure they’re your size. You’ll be quite the fashionable shoppette,” she said, smiling. “I threw in some shoes I’ve been working on, too.”

“Unbelievable.” I grabbed our backpacks as Jess locked up, wishing we were still on her mattress sitting together, talking. We walked down the stairs, and she stopped like there was something she forgot.

“Hey listen,” Jess said. “I mean it. If you need a place in the city and want to keep your stuff here, like the dresses, I can still work on them. And if you do, you don’t have to…”

“No. Sure. I get it. I’m fine,” I said, not knowing what I really felt, wondering if I ever would.

“Good. And hey, you know, I’m getting my own line together, and I need your help. I’m going to do this thing, a show, my term project at FIT. It’s going to be pretty fierce, but I can’t do it without you.”

“Sure.”

“Maybe you can get some of your fancy friends to come?”

Yeah,
I thought,
me and my fancy friends.

31

I stared at the text on my phone for most of my morning shift at the Hole.