30
Ditched
San Francisco, 1935
Late one misty morning, Leone pushed through the swinging doors into the Black Cat Cafe at the edge of San Francisco’s North Beach. Ten-year-old Jane followed.
“We can get some lunch in here.” Leone bumped past the checkered, oil-cloth covered tables and headed for the bar. Jane coughed and reached into her coat pocket for a tissue to wipe her eyes.
“It stinks in here.” Jane planted her feet on the barroom floor. “It smells like cigarettes. Mommy wouldn’t like it if she knew you brought me here.”
“She doesn’t have to know, does she?” Tugging on the sleeve of the girl’s wool coat, Leone coaxed her toward the bar. She slapped her hand on a barstool. “Up you go.”
Jane placed her slim hands on the watermarked black counter, stepped her foot onto the stool rung, and hoisted herself up. Her hands rested flat on the bar for a moment. They stuck out of her navy blue coat sleeves like salamanders peeking out of a dark cave. She turned them over and inspected her palms.
“This counter is sticky.” Jane unfolded a stray cocktail napkin sitting on the bar and began to wipe her hands. “Why did you bring me here?”
Always those accusing eyes. Leone shivered and dug around in the pocket of her loose trousers for a packet of Lucky Strikes. “You know Mother has asked me to keep an eye on you. She needs to find a place that will take your father.”
“Is he going to die?” Jane lowered her eyes but turned her head slightly to hear the answer.
“What? Speak up. I can’t hear you when you mumble like that.”
Jane raised her head and repeated her question. Her solemn blue eyes shimmered, but she held her lips tight.
Leone set the cigarette package aside. She sat down on the barstool next to Jane and was quiet for a moment. Then she reached for her sister’s hands.
Jane’s small, cold hands lay limp and weightless between Leone’s palms. Leone squeezed Jane’s icy fingers between her own warm hands.
“I’m going to give you a straight answer. It isn’t likely that your father will ever recover from his stroke. Mother can’t continue to play nursemaid to your father and work swing shift in the cannery to make ends meet. A nursing home is the only answer.”
Jane made no move to wipe away the tears that escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
Leone raised two fingers and signaled the bartender. “Scotch, up please.” She put a finger under Jane’s trembling chin and lifted her face. “Think of it this way. At least you got some time with your father. I never even met my father.”
The bartender put a rocks glass down in front of Leone and slipped a coaster underneath. He pointed at Jane.
Leone nodded. “Give her a Shirley Temple, Lou. Thanks.”
Lou got busy behind the bar, pouring sticky red juice into a glass, pulling the soda, loading maraschino cherries onto a toothpick. “I’m glad that’s not for me.” Leone nodded toward Lou’s ministrations. She turned to Jane. “I have no taste for sweet stuff.”
Lou made a show of arranging Jane’s drink on a napkin for her. “Who’s the little lady?” Jane straightened her spine and shot the bartender a stony look.
“My sister. She’s older than she looks.” Leone turned to Jane.
“You like tuna fish?”
Jane nodded.
Leone ordered a sandwich. “Take your coat off. You’re going to be here awhile.”
“No. I’m cold.” Keeping a wary eye on Leone, Jane poked at the bubbles in her glass with a plastic mermaid swizzle stick.
Leone took a long pull on her drink and lit up a Lucky. “Felix was okay. I just hate to see what he’s putting Mother through. I mean, she’s got Grandmother to take care of now, and you. The two of you can’t help her. She’s stuck in that little house on the peninsula. They should have stayed in the city where there are hospitals and nursing homes close by.” Leone finished off her scotch.
“Why don’t you help her?”
The question hung in the air. Leone looked toward the door. “Because I have my own life. I help her by staying away.”
Lou set a sandwich in front of Jane and swooped up Leone’s empty glass. “Another?” He held up the glass. Leone looked at the door and nodded.
“You got it. Say, Leone, you found a job yet?”
“Aren’t you having a sandwich?” Jane set the second half of her sandwich down and pushed the plate away.
Everybody’s got questions. Leone downed her glass of courage and picked up the portfolio she had brought with her. “Not yet, Lou. I’m working on it.” She turned to Jane. “I have to see a man about a job. He’s an editor, and he’s looking for an assistant. You can tell Mother about that. The job opportunity, I mean. Don’t tell her I had to leave for a few minutes to meet … to go to an interview.”
Two heads poked through the swinging doors. Rosemary hailed her to join them out on the sidewalk. Leone threw a few bills down on the bar. “Lou, I won’t be long. Would you keep an eye on Jane for me? Give her a magazine to read.”
Lou looked over at Jane. She shrugged. It wasn’t the first time Leone had made bad on a promise. “Okay, but go sit at a table, kid. I can’t have you sitting at the bar when people start coming in. “And you”—he jabbed a finger at Leone—“you behave yourself and don’t make us have to come looking for you, you hear? Aw, go have fun. The kid can sit over there and do some people watching.” He pointed to a small corner table with one chair that backed up to the wall. “Nobody will bother her. Okay with you, girlie?”
Jane pointed to her empty glass. “I’ll have another.” Without looking at Leone, she slid off the barstool and took her uneaten sandwich to the corner table.
R
Jane had not been able to help herself. One day it just slipped out, the story of how Leone left her at the Black Cat bar until the after-work crowd was well into its second martinis. After that, Leone did not see much of her half-sister.
Opal found a place that promised around-the-clock care for Felix in a home for the aged in San Francisco. The tiny but affordable vacation cottage they had purchased on the peninsula became home to Opal, Nellie, and Jane. It meant they couldn’t visit Felix very often, but the bedroom community provided a safe environment for Jane and employment opportunities for Opal and Nellie. Nearby San Jose boasted the largest canning and dried-fruit packing center in the world. Nellie insisted there was no reason why she couldn’t sit and cut cots along with the other women while Opal packed prunes. They got along.