too; in class we were all just working hard to be better, and after class I swapped stories and tips on how to pad dance shoes and the cheapest places to buy them.
I had to work twice as hard as the others. I had to not rush in but hang back and pick up whatever I could. It was a crash course in how to be a New York girl — how to eat lunch at the Automat, how to avoid snagging your stockings on the subway, how to ignore wolf whistles and catcalls, how to keep yourself close and not give out your smiles to passersby, how to carve out your privacy and never, ever feel lonely.
I wasn’t going to feel lonely. I was clear on that. If on a wet afternoon I started to think of Muddie and Da and Jamie and get teary, I put on my coat and went out. If I thought of Billy, I told myself I would see him and then I’d know if we could be together again. Until then, I wouldn’t let missing him stop me from taking what the city held out. I was in the middle of living my dream, and what kind of a fool would I be if I didn’t roll around in it like a puppy in fresh grass?
I told myself all these things as I buttoned my camel coat and adjusted my hat in the mirror. I didn’t look at my eyes. It would be too hard to keep my cheerfulness going. The truth was, I was used to having a companion. I was a triplet. There was always somebody in line for the bathroom, sure, but there was always somebody to go to the movies with. “Better quarreling than lonesome,” Delia used to tell us, and now I knew what she meant.
Jamie had been by my side since I was born. Nobody had replaced him, not the gigglers at school, not the other dancers at Madame Flo’s. We could, just with a look, know exactly what the other was thinking. He could lift one eyebrow at a situation and send me into howls of laughter. We’d gone through every first together, from first teeth to first dance, when he’d been my escort.
I missed him. I knew how much he would love this city. I wanted him here with me to get lost in the crazy streets of the Village, where West Fourth Street could cross West Tenth and no New Yorker even blinked. I’d never gone on a journey before without him. Even falling in love — I’d had Jamie by my side the whole way. He had been Billy’s best friend, and mine, too.
If somebody had told me six months ago that I wouldn’t be in contact with my brother, I would have laughed at such a notion. But what would Da have done, years ago, if someone had told him that his sister would break his heart and then just disappear?
And so there were the nights, falling into bed exhausted but awake, still with the noise and heat of the club in my head, when I looked at my slippers lined up ready for my feet, my robe at the end of the bed, and it was like I saw my future as an old maid. I told myself I was ridiculous, but I couldn’t shake it. I would end up like Aunt Delia.
I don’t remember exactly when I noticed him first, because he looked like every other man in a dark overcoat and a hat. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was with one other man. They walked down the other side of the street, and sometimes they’d stop in front of the building across the street, underneath the awning.
I was peeking out at them from the lobby door when Hank walked up behind me.
“It’s the Feds,” he said. “They’re there for my parents.” He shrugged. “We’re used to it — they photograph the teachers’ rallies, too.”
“So why do you keep going to them?”
“Because my dad has lots of friends in the union,” Hank said. “They tried to help him when he got fired. He wouldn’t abandon them just because he’s scared.”
“Your dad is scared?”
“Sure. He just doesn’t talk about it.” He looked at his feet, then up at me. “You know, I get up really early to help my dad do the deliveries. I could meet you and walk you home sometimes and still be back in time.”