Chapter 17

Uncle Martin went with Lillian out to Third Avenue to hail a hansom. “Thanks to you, my lass, that boy will at least see a doctor, so bless your heart.” As they walked to the corner, he continued. “What the devil was he up to that he got himself into this mess?” Despite all the critical things Michael had said throughout the years about his father, Lillian could see Martin’s concern.

“Just a drunken brawl, Uncle. Boys will be boys.” Lillian figured her uncle would be able to accept a story about violence fueled by alcohol. “He just doesn’t want to talk about it because he didn’t get too many licks in.”

“Ah, yes,” said Martin, nodding. “He weren’t much of a scrapper growing up. Now he’s regrettin’ it. Maybe this will put some hair on his chest.”

As the cab pulled up, Lillian implored, “Will you send news of what the doctor says in the afternoon post?”

“That I will.” Martin helped Lillian up into the cab and handed her the fare.

On the ride back home, Lillian’s thoughts whirled and resisted being sorted into their proper compartments. Michael was… well, she would have called other men who did those things deviants, but she couldn’t think of Michael that way. But what was the difference? Either Michael was deviant, or none of them were. But even though it seemed to change everything, it changed nothing, really. Michael was the same as he ever was, the keeper of her childhood secrets, the sharer of desserts, the one who gave her his life savings so she and Marie could move. She had initially been shocked at Josephine’s inclinations. But after a while, when her mind would go there, it failed to shock her, the novelty gone. To think of Michael with another man was startling and yet in a way it was easy to believe. She thought of him and Uncle Martin clashing over the past few years, and now she could see that Uncle Martin had some sense that Michael wasn’t the man he wanted him to be. She was sure Uncle Martin would never understand, would never accept, and that Michael was right to keep this from him. She realized how much Michael had trusted her today and it gave her a chill up her spine.

The hansom jerked to a stop in front of her building. Lillian didn’t remember anything of the trip. She exited the cab in a daze, walking away without paying the fare until the driver angrily reminded her.

“How is he?” asked Josephine as soon as Lillian was in the door.

“It looks like a team of horses kicked him in the chest. The doctor is seeing him. His breathing is rough, but he’s able to talk.”

“And did he?”

“Talk? Yes, he did. Quite a bit.” Lillian sat down without taking her coat off, lost in thought. After a moment, she said, “He told me that you and he had more in common than I thought.”

“He wanted to tell you for a long time. But he was afraid you would think the lesser of him.”

She started to say that she could never think poorly of Michael, but checked herself when she remembered the things she said to Josephine. The things she thought. So easy to think them of a stranger.

Lillian gazed out the kitchen window at the brick wall of the building next door. “When we were growing up, there was a man that lived in the building next door for a few years. Older, big silver mustache and muttonchops, carved rosewood cane. He lived with his nephew, the boy might have been twenty five. At least that’s how he would introduce him— ‘my nephew Tobias’. But people would talk. I didn’t believe it. At the time, I didn’t believe that there was anyone like that. But Michael did. He said there was the life that people presented to the world, and then there was the real life lurking beneath that. I got angry with him, wouldn’t speak to him for days. He couldn’t understand why, and I couldn’t tell him, because I didn’t know. But I know now. It scared me. The thought of not being able to see anyone’s true nature. Anyone could be anything.” She realized she was trembling.

“But that’s the appeal of the Bowery, don’t you see. At The Slide and them other places, everyone is who they really are. It’s a relief.”

“Is he different there?” As she said it, she realized this was the thing, the nub of it all, the center of the swirl. If Michael had not been showing his true nature to Lillian for all these years, would she even recognize him fully revealed? Did she even know him?

“If you mean, is he still a prince of a man that would give you the shirt off his back, yeah, he’s the same.” She ran a finger across the scar on her face, barely touching it. Lillian had almost forgotten it was there. “He found me, ya know. Slumped in the alley, bleeding. I was seeing stars, I tell ya. And somehow he found the only sober doc down on the Bowery, sewed me up, doc even washed his hands before, according to Michael. Come to think of it, maybe that was Michael’s idea. Of course he paid the doc. Checked on me while I was healing.”

“Were you friends before that?”

“Not really. We knew each other, from the bars. He’s a handsome fella, people notice him. And a lot of people knew me too.”

“So that’s how you came to be friends with him?”

“Are you surprised? That he would help me like that?”

Lillian shrugged. “Not really.”

“After that bastard beat the daylights outta me and left me for dead, I was skittish around men for a while. Couldn’t be alone with one. But Michael, well, I knew he wasn’t interested in me like that, of course. He was easy to be with while I got my sea legs back.”

Lillian felt the click of a puzzle piece pushed into place. She had often wondered why Josephine had taken this job. She could only imagine that what Lillian paid her paled in comparison to what she had earned selling herself. And there must have been a legitimate job in this city that would have paid better. But Josephine was indebted to Michael, and Lillian was the beneficiary.

“Can you really live on what I pay you?”

“I got some savings I can dip into.” Josephine picked up a dishrag and folded it carefully. “Truth is, I told Michael I would do this job for a while, get you out of a tight spot, and while I figured out what the hell was next for me. But turns out I still don’t know what’s next, and that little scoundrel grew on me.” She jerked her thumb toward Marie in the bedroom.

“Marie! I completely forgot about her. Is she up?”

“Up and braiding on the bedpost.” Josephine and Lillian both collected twine and string to tie to the bedpost in sets of three, which would keep Marie happily braiding for quite a while. “I bet you don’t know that I got me a new friend across the hallway.”

“Mrs. Sweeney?” Lillian was incredulous.

“A week or two ago I heard a hell of a ruckus in the hall. The five year old screaming bloody murder, split open his chin from fallin’ off who knows what, bleeding like Christ on the cross. Mrs. Sweeney had just started feeding the baby his mush, and he was screaming his head off at the interruption. I offered to take baby Cornelius and finish the feeding over here while she cleaned up the daredevil.”

“Cornelius, huh.”

“Quite the five-dollar name. Be a while ‘til he grows into it. Anyway, now me and Sweeney are on regular terms. She dropped off a piece of apple cake the other day, and I give her the paper once I read it.” Josephine looked pleased with herself. Lillian could only imagine the fits that Mrs. Sweeney would have if she knew more about Josephine.

Just then, the bells tolled at Sacred Heart of Jesus down the street, and Lillian remembered it was Sunday. “I shouldn’t keep you on the weekend. You are already too kind to have come and stayed like you did.”

“She was easy today. Only been up for a half hour. And her cough is almost gone.”

After Josephine left, Lillian went in and sat on the floor next to Marie, who stopped braiding twine and lay her head in Lillian’s lap. She smoothed Marie’s hair from her temple and tucked it behind her ear. Marie purred a low hum in the back of her throat and closed her sightless eyes. Happy as a clam, thought Lillian. She won’t be able to visit Michael for a while; Lillian could only imagine trying to block Marie from giving Michael’s broken ribs a big bear hug. Michael, Lillian thought. Michael who was different. Michael who was the same.