The morning after, I awoke in a bed that wasn’t my own. Sitting bolt upright, I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings in the dimness. The bed clothes were softer than the ones I was used to. The pillows, plumper. More plentiful. Dark, crimson curtains were still drawn at the windows and the smell of roast beef wafted in from the kitchen. It was the beef that triggered my memory after a heavy night on the juice. The diner was closed the day after the hop. Bernie had predicted everybody would need a day to recuperate and thus, last week, Mona invited me to stay with her in Queens. The idea of waking up in a family home rather than in my box room in Manhattan was enticing in itself, at times that place felt like solitary confinement. But Mona had added the extra incentive of a roast dinner into the bargain so I was quick to take her up on the offer. On my limited budget, meat products were a decided luxury.
My shoulders sagged with the relief of being able to place where I was. I could’ve woken up in someone else’s bed that morning, if Jack had done as I asked and swept me off back to his place. There we would have talked and kissed and made love and embraced until dawn. It would’ve been heaven. He hadn’t seemed too keen on that idea however. And, somewhere deep down, a voice told me I wasn’t deserving of heaven anyway. The voice that reminded me I deserved to pay for my weakness. My cowardice. That was all mine and not Mrs Delaney’s after all.
As a result, Jack and I had parted almost as soon as the music had stopped and the lights went up. Bernie shooed guests out the door. Lucia swept up, ridding the floor of bottles and other debris. Mona, Alan and I bundled ourselves into a cab. I watched Jack, who surveyed me from the pavement, slide out of view from the back seat. His silhouette watched on as our taxi motored off. I didn’t want to leave him behind, out there in the misty midnight streets of Manhattan, but I had to. Disappointed as I was not to spend the night in his arms it was probably for the best. My heart was too heavy for any man’s shoulders now. Even his.
I sighed, swung my legs out of bed and mooched over to the window. Hugging one of the pillows for comfort, I drew back the curtains. Mona and Alan lived in Long Island City. From their house there was an unobstructed view across the East River to the Manhattan skyline, and drawing back the curtains was like pulling the shroud from a panoramic painting. The sun was already high overhead, beaming down on the city. The whole place sparkled. Silver skyscrapers glinted in the sunshine. The spires of The Chrysler, The Empire State and the Twin Towers all fought for dominance, each stretching as hard as they could towards a thin layer of cloud.
Looking out at it, gleaming, glistening, shimmering, New York was once again the city I’d dreamt of before I came to live there. The city I’d seen in countless films. That irrepressible metropolis. I sighed, leant on the windowsill, and rested my chin in my hands. She wasn’t perfect, I knew that. From across the river, you couldn’t hear the angry cabbies yelling out their car windows. Or the horns blaring at pedestrians running across roads at the precise moment they were most likely to be mown down by oncoming traffic. The fragrance of burnt pretzels with base notes of wet garbage festering in the street couldn’t penetrate from this distance and over here, there was a much lower chance of seeing something dark darting across the floor out of the corner of your eye. The thing you always hoped was a spider or even a woodlouse but knew, in your heart, was a cockroach. No, she wasn’t perfect. For all her unsavoury infestations, however, I’d come to love her.
A knock sounded at the door.
‘Esther?’ It was Mona’s voice. ‘You up?’
‘Just about.’ I threw the pillow back on the bed and stretched towards the ceiling. ‘What time is it?’
‘Nearly lunchtime. Why don’t you get a shower and join us when you’re dressed?’
By one thirty I’d had a shower, pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and was sat at Mona’s kitchen table yawning into a glass of orange juice. Mona stood by the oven, checking the meat and potatoes. Being careful not to over-cook the vegetables she had on the boil.
Her kitchen, like every other room in the house, was ultra-homely. The walls were painted in a deep yellow that cheered you the moment you entered. Little pink flowers had been stencilled around the window frame and thin cotton curtains, also patterned with pink flowers, hung at the window. Family pictures adorned the wall and pinned to the fridge were the latest artistic masterpieces produced by Donnell – Mona’s twelve year old son. One of the pictures was of Superman but it wasn’t Christopher Reeve. Donnell’s version was black rather than white-skinned and I wondered if he’d modelled his illustration on Alan.
‘I don’t know how I can still be yawning. I slept for like twelve hours.’ I rubbed my eyes, then shook my head.
‘Well, I’d like to put it down to how comfortable our guest bed is but if you slept sound it’s likely to do with the number of drinks you downed last night.’ Mona chuckled.
‘Yeah. I sort of thought my head would feel worse than this but maybe I’m having one of those lucky hangover escapes I keep hearing about. Or maybe I’m still drunk and the hangover will follow shortly.’ I rubbed my temples at the thought.
‘Or maybe you’re too happy to be hungover?’ said Mona
‘Is that even a thing?’
‘I don’t know. But honey, you looked the happiest I’ve ever seen you last night, dancin’ with Jack.’
I gave her a frail smile.
‘Maybe it was your joyous singing voice? Where’d you learn to sing like that?’ I said. The day we’d met Mona had listed her hobbies as manicures, shopping and some TV show I’d never heard of called Remember Reno. Music lessons or singing lessons or whatever she’d done to wind up with a voice like that certainly hadn’t come up.
‘Well…I don’t usually mention it but truth be told I was nearly a singer instead of a waitress. Even had a part on Broadway.’ Mona looked off into nowhere, losing herself in a daydream.
‘Really? How come you never said?’ I’d never heard Mona so much as hum in the diner.
‘It was a long time ago.’ She shrugged. ‘A different life. But I’ll never forget how it felt to belt out “One Hand, One Heart” from West Side Story. Had the best reviews on Broadway that week.’
‘So, what happened?’ I’d already half-guessed the answer.
‘Well –’ she looked out of the small window above the sink to the yard outside where Alan and Donnell were playing basketball ‘– another life began.’ She smiled.
‘Do you miss it?’ She didn’t seem sad but watching her on that stage last night it was obvious to anyone she belonged up there.
‘Sometimes.’ Her eyes re-focused now, snapping out of their trance. ‘But I wouldn’t trade what I have.’
‘You’re lucky, to have people around you who love you,’ I said.
‘Seems to me you have somebody who loves you, if you’d reach out to them,’ she replied. I lowered my eyes.
‘You want me to set the table for lunch?’ There was a slight pause as Mona weighed up whether to let me change the subject.
‘Cutlery’s over in the third drawer along. Thanks.’ I pulled out four sets of knives and forks. ‘You want me to lay off the talk about Jack for today, huh?’
‘It’s not that,’ I said, placing the cutlery as straight as I could on the rickety old table that was bordering on the unusable. ‘I was happy, am happy when I’m around him but –’ I sighed ‘– it’s an impossible situation.’ Mona looked out of the window again at Alan and Donnell.
‘I know you think your past is important but I’d say letting your past control your future is unwise.’ I went and stood near her, leaning against the work surface, and nodded. ‘The past is gone. It’s been and it’s done but your future … that isn’t written.’
‘Where’d you read that, a fortune cookie?’ Mona looked down into the sink. ‘Sorry.’ I put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just, I know what you’re saying is right. Just wish I could believe it, you know?’ Mona linked her arm in mine.
‘There’s only one question you have to ask yourself.’
She looked me dead in the eye.
‘What’s that?’
‘You sure you want to know? You’re not going to like it.’
She sucked through her teeth like a builder might right before delivering an astronomical renovation quote.
‘When has that ever stopped you?’ I asked, a glint in my eyes.
‘The question is: how do you feel about him?’ Then it was my turn to take a sharp breath. My eyes shone no longer with good humour but with tears. I fought my mouth as it wobbled and morphed the motion into a smile. ‘Well, looks like you have your answer.’ Mona looked at me and swiped away a single tear that’d sneaked down my cheek.
‘But how can I be falling for someone I barely know?’ Mona gave me a look of mixed admiration and irritation at just how stubborn I was being over accepting the truth. ‘After my husband died there was nothing. Nothing except guilt and emptiness. Until I met Jack I never…’
‘Well, we can’t control our feelings, honey. Only how we respond to them. Who ever said love was logical anyway?’ I laughed and put a hand on my forehead. ‘I hope when you’re done fightin’ with yourself over this he’s still around waitin’ for you.’
‘But what if –’
‘Oh Lord give me strength. What if? What if? You’re gonna “what if” for the rest of your life. There’s only you standin’ in the way of your own happiness. Anyone can see it ’cept you.’ She took a deep breath and lowered her volume. ‘Bad things happen to us all, honey. We can’t let them destroy us.’ I nodded, took her hand in mine and squeezed.
The kitchen timer dinged to tell us the meat was done. Mona opened the oven door, prodded the meat with a fork, and nodded. She then opened the window above the sink and called to her husband and son that lunch would soon be on the table. Both came charging into the kitchen. Alan gave me a peck on the cheek and a hug and Donnell, who I’d never met before, wrapped his arms tight around my waist.
‘You’re my Aunt Esther, aren’t you?’ His eyes bulged wide, yearning for approval.
‘Er. Yeah. That’s right.’ I put a hand on his head. His skin was soft the way all children’s skin is and he pulled himself closer for another cuddle.
‘When you finally put Aunt Esther down, Donnell, perhaps you could see your way to the bathroom to wash up?’ said Mona.
‘OK, Mom.’ He ran off into another room whilst Alan and I took a seat at the table. Mona dished up. Steam rose from the plates as she set them down. The smell was divine and I suddenly realised how hungry I was. Mona and Donnell both joined us at the table and Mona insisted on saying grace before anyone started eating.
‘Dear God,’ she began, ‘thank you for feeding us, keeping us and loving us.’ My stomach tightened. It’d been a long time since I’d said a prayer. I took it as read that, if there was a God, He’d rather not hear from me.
If He hadn’t already disowned me because of my weakness in the face of Mr Delaney or what I’d done to him thereafter, I was sure He’d be sore about what I said to Reverend Quinn, our local priest, back in Finchley – the man who’d officiated my wedding and Mr Delaney’s funeral. And Dad’s, for that matter. Telling him God meant nothing to me, on top of everything else, probably wasn’t the best way to ingratiate myself with the people upstairs. I scrunched my eyes shut tighter, remembering how overcast Quinn’s cloudy eyes had become the moment he realised I’d lost all faith.
I’m sorry, Quinn. If you can hear me. I’m so sorry. For everything.
‘Amen,’ said Mona, and that closing word rippled around the rest of the table. A moment of silence passed before we started pouring gravy and carving extra slices of beef off the joint.
‘How you feeling this morning? Alan asked, spooning another hunk of potato onto his plate.
‘Surprisingly well given how many drinks I had. You?’
‘I only had a couple of beers so I’m good. Sure was a fun party though.’ He started cutting up his meat and let out a short chuckle. ‘Did you see Lu dancing?’
‘Oh no, I missed it,’ I said. Probably because my head was buried in Jack’s chest, or in the nook between his shoulder and his neck. ‘Is she a good dancer?’
‘She’s both mesmerising and terrifying.’ Alan laughed again. ‘Definitely caught the eye of a gentleman or two though. Especially after her rendition of “Yakety Yak”. Talk about attitude…’
I smiled, remembering some of the ridiculous dance moves we’d all come up with during Lucia’s song.
Donnell pulled at Alan’s Yankee vest and proceeded to tell him about an incident at school that week in which one of the other boys in his class ‘broke the law’, as he called it, by taking a second carton of juice when the rule was one per child. The whole episode had been most dramatic as the boy concerned tried to cover up his crime by planting the extra empty carton in another kid’s desk. Alan listened with patience to his son whilst Mona scolded him for raising his voice too loud at the table. Even in her scorn, you could see the love she felt for the men in the room. Her easy manner was one of a contented woman. They were a snug family unit and didn’t care who knew it. Watching them, I thought of Mum’s upcoming visit to the city. Would we manage to be so easy with each other? Would she have forgiven me for the way things had turned out? If she could forgive me, maybe I still had a chance of forgiving myself.