22
Graduation
Leone sashayed into the living room where her grandmother sat fingering the grosgrain ribbon on a black straw hat. “Très chic.” She pointed to the hat and executed a pirouette. “How do I look, Grandmother?”
The skirt on Leone’s simple white dress skimmed her shapely knees. Nellie looked her up and down. From the top of her head of curly bobbed hair to the toe of her white-kid one-strap pumps, she looked angelic, but for one detail.
“I think you can get away with the mascara, but the red lipstick? Your lips enter the room before you do. The monsignor will have a heart attack.”
Leone laughed and used a tissue to blot her lips. “Better?”
“Come here.”
Leone approached her grandmother and bent over to present her face. Nellie held out her hand for the tissue. Leone stuck out her tongue for Nellie to wet the tissue and rub off more color.
“There.”
Leone and Nellie sat together in companionable silence, waiting for the tardier members of the family to finish dressing for Leone’s graduation ceremony from Saint Mary’s.
“Grandmother, remember that story you told me about the woman who got tossed out onto the street because her lover died and his mother took revenge? What happened to her?”
Nellie pulled a compact out of her pocketbook and checked her face powder. She smoothed an eyebrow and patted a wave of hair into place.
“Grandmother? Did she write to Loraine and tell her what happened?”
Nellie clicked the pocket mirror shut and picked up her story exactly where she had left it.
“Clara did not wish to be a burden on her daughter.”
“But surely Clara let Loraine know of her desperate situation.”
“What a memory you have. Clara was a stubborn, proud woman, but yes, she wrote to Loraine.”
“And she went to live with her?”
“Her letter was returned, stamped No Longer at This Address.”
“You mean to tell me she never saw her daughter again?”
“That’s right. Clara lived out the rest of her days at the Salvation Army Home that I helped her get into. When she died, she was buried in a potter’s field.”
“What’s that?”
The measured click of mid-heeled shoes down the hallway alerted the two women that their conversation had likely been overheard. Opal walked into the room, pulling a hairpin from between her lips. She laced it through a few strands of hair that had fallen loose from a carefully sculpted curl.
“Potter’s field is the final resting place for people with no means of support, Leone. What your grandmother is trying to tell you is that family ties are fragile and easily broken. Of all the connections you make in this life, it is your family you should be able to count on when times are hard.” Opal glanced over at Nellie. “It takes work to keep those connections.”
Jane skipped awkwardly through the doorway wearing shoes a size too big for her. She twirled the flounces of her skirt in the flirty way of young girls and trained her large blue eyes on her sister. Receiving no response, she turned her charms toward Nellie, touching the shiny blue ribbon laced through her short bob and tied in a fetching bow just above her ear.
Nellie stood up and put on her hat. “That’s not at all what I’m saying. I’m saying, don’t ever count on a man to take care of you. Take care of yourself.”
Leone stood up and walked over to link arms with her grandmother. “That’s what I intend to do, take care of myself, but I have to graduate first.” She ushered her grandmother toward the door. Then she turned to hurry the others.
Jane’s lower lip quivered. Opal held out her hand to her small daughter. White patent leather sandals scraped across the floor until she found shelter in the folds of her mother’s dress.
“Jane, don’t drag your feet like that.” Nellie looked at Opal. “Where is Felix?”
“Waiting for us by the curb; he’s warming up the car.”
R
The women paraded through the door. Leone, aroused by hope for her future, enjoyed the sensuous swish of her skirt against her silk-stockinged legs. Nellie, bolstered by memories of the past, balanced her steps in practical shoes she had broken in for the occasion. Opal, lithe and flexible, managed the present moment and all its implications with quiet grace. And Jane dragged her small feet in nameless fear.
R
Fifty-two young ladies graduated from St. Mary’s Academy. After the solemn ceremony, presided over by the archbishop of Portland, the young women joined their families. Faces shiny with a sense of achievement and endless possibilities, they sparkled at restaurant tables and home gatherings. Private parties would follow.
Leone’s circle of friends was small but intimate. After a dinner Felix had arranged in Portland’s Chinatown, she would sneak away to a party in a stately home, a bottle of fine bourbon whiskey stowed in her handbag. It was a gift from Felix, slipped to her after the ladies left the table to take Jane to the restroom. On the occasions that the dapper little Frenchman treated Leone like an adult instead of a schoolgirl, she almost liked him. Because her mother and grandmother would disapprove, the subterfuge was even more delicious.
During a dessert of green tea ice cream and fortune cookies, Nellie presented Leone with a new Elgin watch, its square face attached to a black-ribbon band. Opal handed her a fancy card with a check in it, and Felix slipped a legal-sized envelope by the side of her napkin. Another gift? Leone reached for it, but Felix placed his hand on top of the envelope and shot her a warning look.
“Save that for later.” He flashed a jovial grin to his wife and his mother-in-law and then returned his attention to Leone. “Read us your fortune, why don’t you?”
Leone was used to Felix’s teasing ways. She picked up the crisp twist of sweet-smelling cookie and cracked it in two. Carefully unfolding the paper inside, she frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what the cosmos is trying to tell me.” She handed her fortune to Nellie.
Always observe propriety, but not at the cost of your higher nature. Nellie recited the words to the family. “That’s true. If there is one thing I learned in my career, that is it.”
“But what does it mean?” Leone asked.
“It means behave yourself, but don’t be a sellout,” Felix said.
“I think it means you best mind your manners and follow the rules, but do not allow others to rob you of the passion God has placed in your heart,” Opal said.
What a thought, the idea that God might be the author of the feelings that swirled inside of her. Leone screwed her mouth sideways. Nellie leaned over and patted her hand. “Be kind to others. Be true to yourself. Give the Almighty His due. That’s all your mother is trying to say.”
“You all make it sound so easy, but Einstein says that the cosmic religious experience is a challenge to make clear. You have to believe in the rationality of the world structure to experience faith.” All eyes were on Leone now. She sat up straight and floated her words above the din in the restaurant. “Einstein says it is the function of art and science to keep hope alive.”
Felix swiveled his head from the table on their left to the table on their right. He lowered his head and squinted his eyes. “Is that what they taught you in Catholic school?”
“Hardly, but as the convent is not my vocation, I took it upon myself to read other points of view.”
Jane dropped her ice cream spoon, and Opal bent down to pick it up. “Are you going on vacation?” the child piped up.
Leone dabbed her lips with her napkin. Setting the cloth stained red with her lipstick aside, she looked around the table. She lifted her chin and prefaced the speech she had been preparing for weeks with a few words to Jane.
“It’s vocation, not vacation. A vocation is a calling to a profession you feel suited for. I agree with Dr. Einstein that the hope of the world lies in the pursuit of art and science. I believe that my calling is to be an artist.”
“You mean dancer?” Opal wiped the spoon she had rescued with her napkin and handed it back to Jane.
“What about a writer?” Nellie spoke up. “The field of journalism is a door worth knocking on.”
“Neither of those occupations pays very well.” Felix signaled the waiter and reached into his back pocket for his billfold.
Leone gave her stepfather a withering look. “There are worlds without money, Felix. I will get by.”
Felix sputtered a mouthful of coffee out through his nose.
“You got coffee all over my new dress!” Jane set up a howl. A waiter rushed to the table and began to clear the dishes away. It seemed the appropriate time for the small party to gather their coats and for Felix to pay the bill. The rest of Leone’s speech would have to wait.
After Nellie had been dropped off at her boarding house, after Felix chauffeured his wife and daughters back to their cottage, Leone popped into the house to drop her gifts in the bedroom before heading out for a round of parties. The envelope in her handbag remained unopened.
Felix sat on the davenport, his short legs splayed out. He waved a hand at Leone as she passed through the front room into the hallway and then summoned his wife, patting the cushioned spot beside him. Opal dropped down with a sigh and pulled off her shoes. Leone paused in the hallway where she could observe her parents without being noticed.
“What did you give Leone for her graduation?” Opal pulled her feet up onto the sofa cushion and massaged her aching arches.
Felix took a cigar out of his shirt pocket and rolled it between his fingers. “I gave her a train ticket.”