| |
At Madame de Denichen’s, Anjali hustled Pearl through the street door into the foyer, then quickly into the stairwell. Shoes in hand, they climbed five flights. Anjali was nervous, trying to dodge Madame’s prying eyes and sharp voice. At the door to her attic, she fumbled with the keys. Up the last flight they crept.
“The W.C. is here.” Anjali showed her the stand-up Turkish toilet, tucked in a little closet under the eaves, then opened the door to her flat. Pearl tumbled in and fell onto the bed.
“You could take a shower,” Anjali suggested.
Pearl looked at her with dull eyes, then shook her head.
“No need,” she whispered.
“I’d really like you to take a shower.” The girl’s face was streaked with makeup, there was a trail of drool on her tube top, her knees were brown with dirt picked up who knew where.
“No,” Pearl whispered.
“Actually, I insist. To stay here you must take a shower. Here, I’ll get it started for you.” Anjali adjusted the temperature, then stood over Pearl until she got up and shuffled to step under the nozzle. “You can take your clothes off in there. Leave them on the floor. I’ll get pajamas for you.”
Anjali’s Amma had packed two of everything in India, so she laid an extra towel and a pink and white polka-dotted cotton nightie on the bed. She slipped into the navy and white one. Even with a surprise guest and all that meant, she had a priority to attend to. She wrote the praise she had received from the group on one yellow square, criticisms and suggestions on another, and taped them to the closet doors next to the others.
Pearl was in the shower a long time. Anjali worried that Madame would come up to protest. Finally the water shut off and the door opened a crack. Pearl peered out.
Anjali handed her the towel.
“I’m going to do my dishes,” Anjali said. “You dry off, and here’s a nightgown.”
As Pearl stepped out onto the mat, Anjali went to the sink and clattered the dishes. It was getting late, she had to be at work in the morning. What was she going to do with Pearl while she was gone?
Anjali heard the bed creak, and Pearl was sitting on it, dressed, her hair a wild tangle. Anjali handed her a brush.
“I’ll get you a glass of ginger ale,” Anjali said. “It will help to settle your stomach.” And wash that nasty taste of vomit away, she thought.
“If you have a rubber band, I’d like to braid my hair,” Pearl said.
That was her longest sentence of the night, Anjali thought. She’s feeling better.
Anjali went back to washing dishes, and when they were done turned to study her new flatmate. Pearl was all sharp angles—elbows, knees, collarbones jutting out. She doesn’t get enough to eat, Anjali thought, as Pearl placidly braided her long brown hair.
What have I done? Anjali thought. Well, I’ll try to help humanity. And it will give me something to write about.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Pearl shook her head no.
“Look, I need some sleep. I have to go to work tomorrow. You can stay here all day, but please be quiet so my landlady doesn’t hear you. You can read,” and Anjali swept her hand toward the shelf of books in English she’d brought from India and that was gradually growing with each trip to the Shakespeare & Company bookstore. A guilty pleasure, to buy books on her budget.
“Do you like to read?”
Pearl nodded.
“There’s eggs in the fridge, and I’ll bring up some fresh bread before I go. I hope you don’t mind, but you won’t be able to leave because you don’t have a key to the street door, and I don’t have an extra. But look at it this way, you’re safe here.”
Pearl was just watching her, her eyes big. She’s still terrified of me, Anjali thought.
“Well, I have to go to bed now,” she said. Her window was open. There might be one or two mosquitoes in the night, but up here, under the zinc roof, it had to be open in summer. Nobody in France, including rich Madame de Denichen, had ever heard of putting screens on windows.
Pearl stood up, and Anjali reached past her to turn down the coverlet. “You sleep on the inside so I can get out of bed in the morning,” Anjali said.
Pearl must have relaxed quickly because she was slumbering in five minutes. It took Anjali three hours to fall asleep. Her mind was spinning with questions about what to do next. How could Pearl come and go without Madame knowing? Impossible. And what if Pearl stole everything she owned while she was gone? Well, you won’t miss much except the books. And your earrings from India. They are replaceable, you could find them in shops all over Paris. Except you can’t afford them on your Paris budget.
And her mind whirled for the next two hours.
