But when I opened the door, I found myself saying, “I’ll take it.”
* * *
—
Mama inundated me with questions when I walked through the door. “Where were you? On a date with Teddy? Has he proposed yet?” Any time Mama brought up Teddy, I felt unnerved.
“I went for a walk.”
“Has he broken up with you? I knew this would happen.”
“Mama! I just wanted to go on a walk.”
“Such a long walk! Always such long walks for you these days. God only knows what you’re up to.”
“You don’t believe in God.”
“No matter. You shouldn’t walk so much. You’re already too skinny. And who has time to walk anyway? I needed your help finishing the beading on Miss Halpern’s prom dress. This is a big opportunity for me to get into the American teen market. I do a dress for Miss Halpern and all her friends see her in it, and then they want one too. Next thing you know, a USA Dresses and More for You dress will be on American Bandstand next to that handsome Richard Clark.”
“Dick Clark?”
“Who?”
I sat at the kitchen table next to her, careful to place my purse under my feet so she wouldn’t see the bit of tissue paper sticking out of the zipper. “Wait,” I said. “I know that dress. Yellow chiffon, right?”
“Not a good color for such a pale girl, but who am I to say?”
“But that dress doesn’t have much beading. Just a little on the straps. You can finish something like that in an hour.” Instead of answering, Mama got up from the table. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
She turned and looked at me, her brow furrowed. “I’m just tired.”
* * *
—
I wore my new red blouse to work the next day, hiding it under an oversized beige sweater before leaving. Mama didn’t see the blouse, although she did comment on the sweater. “That ugly old thing?” she asked. She pretended to look out one of the half windows of our basement apartment. “Is it snowing outside? You’re not going skiing, are you?”
“You’re back to your old self.”
“What other self would I be?”
I kissed her cheek and hurried out.
Sweating, I waited until I reached the bus stop before taking the sweater off. I held my coat between my thighs and wiggled out of it. A woman passing with her two children dressed in Catholic school uniforms gave me a look. It wasn’t until I was on the bus that I realized my blouse was misbuttoned and a portion of my bra was exposed.
The elevator dinged and I stepped out into reception with my coat draped over my arm, my shoulders back, looking straight ahead instead of at my feet in an attempt to convey that I was as breezy and confident as the woman in the Ban Roll-On Deodorant ad. I glanced toward reception, ready to say hello to Sally, but was disappointed to see the regular receptionist.
“Cute blouse,” she said. “Red’s a lovely color on you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Got it on sale.” I was always doing that. If someone told me they liked my new haircut, I’d tell them that I wasn’t sure about the length. If someone said they liked an idea I had or a joke I told, I’d attribute it to someone else.
* * *
—
Sally didn’t come in the next day, or the day after that. Every time I stepped out of the elevator, I braced myself to see her; but still no Sally. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The typing pool took her absence as proof she had another role at the Agency. “Part-time receptionist my ass,” Norma said. I laughed with the rest of them, though I couldn’t help but wonder what they might say about me behind my back.
A week passed, but I still found myself thinking of her. Something about Sally Forrester lingered.
Another week passed and I’d given up on seeing her again. But when the elevator opened, there she was, seated at the reception desk doodling on a yellow steno pad. She waved hello and I faked a coughing fit to cover my reddening face.
I sat at my desk and went right to work, telling myself not to look in her direction. Even without looking, I could feel her presence all morning. When I got up to use the restroom, I was keenly aware how my body moved, how I held my head, what I looked like walking across SR. It was as if I was seeing