Read Dream When You're Feeling Blue Online

Authors: Elizabeth Berg

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Sagas, #Literary, #General

Dream When You're Feeling Blue (4 page)

“I just don’t know what to do. My mother won’t get out of bed. My father sits at the kitchen table and stares. Just…stares. Bobby’s coming home for the funeral, and I don’t know if he should go back. One’s enough, isn’t it?”

“One’s enough,” Kitty said, and then she sat quietly, holding her friend’s hand until she stopped crying.

Finally, Maddy took in a long breath and said, “Okay. I’m okay now. Thanks for coming out here with me, Kitty. I think I’ll just…I think I’ll go home. I’ll make Ma some soup; she’s got to eat, and she likes my cabbage soup. Or I’ll just…I’ll just be there. I’m not ready to go back to work yet.”

“Take your time. And if you need me to do anything for you, let me know.”

“There are some invoices on my desk. If you could—”

“I’ll do them right away.” Kitty hugged her friend and then watched her move in and out of the shade of the trees, walking slowly toward home. All over the country, this just kept happening. And over and over again, Kitty had to straighten her back and remember why. It probably wasn’t right to say so, but this was how she felt: at home, bombs were falling, too.

She started back for the office. After lunch, she’d tell the girls about her ring, she’d show it to them. They needed good news, too. Did they ever.

         

THE BELL OVER THE DOOR
at Munson’s Jewelers tinkled gaily when Kitty walked in. It was as though it, too, wanted to join in the excitement of what she was about to do. So much for the remark Kitty had overheard Julian make to Michael recently: “I’d like to see any quail try to put the bite on me!” All the pressure men felt to try to avoid being “trapped.” And all the pressure women felt to trap them! You couldn’t look at a ladies’ magazine without being beaten about the head with the message that if you weren’t engaged you were nothing. The ad Kitty had looked at most often said, “She’s lovely! She’s engaged!” and she wasn’t even lovely! Kitty had stared and stared at the woman’s face (she looked a little stuck up, too), and thought,
How come
she
got a ring?
Something Bob Hope had said on the radio was going around: “You know what a husband is, don’t you? A bank account with pants and an empty stomach. Easy to catch one, though, all it takes is a flashy car with a bear trap for a bumper. Your only competition is twenty-three million other women—and the draft board.” Another joke going around said they were beginning to draft scarecrows. Well, Kitty didn’t have to worry anymore.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and across the top of her forehead was a thin line of perspiration. She had walked to the store so quickly she’d nearly tripped over the last curb. She’d tell Julian that, in her letter to him tonight.
Jeepers, hon, I was in such a hurry I nearly fell flat on my face on my way over to Munson’s. But it would have been worth it to take a tumble for the incredibly beautiful ring that now sits on
that
finger!
She’d say something like that. The diamond was bound to be big; Julian would never settle for anything under a full carat. It might even be two carats! She’d say he needn’t have done that, but then she’d say how happy she was that he did. She’d heard that if you caught a diamond in the light the right way, you could cast huge rainbows on the wall. She’d wait to do that until her sisters could see it with her. They’d be so excited for her, and they’d love her ring, Tish especially. No stone could be too big for Tish. Louise might think Kitty’s large diamond was crass, but she’d have to admire its great beauty. Everyone would.

Around her parents, Kitty would be more subdued. Already she could hear her mother’s response: “So it’s finally an engagement ring, is it. And none too early, either!” She imagined her father inspecting the stone and saying, “Sure there’s a year’s worth of mortgage payments you’re sporting on your finger!” But he would congratulate her, and he would mean it. He would embrace her, saying, “God love ya, you’re my own shinin’—”

“Miss?”

Kitty started and looked up at the thin face of the man across the counter from her. He wore rimless glasses and a red bow tie, a neatly pressed blue suit and white shirt.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I…My name is Kitty Heaney.” Her voice shook a bit, and she smiled. “Gosh, I’m awful nervous!”

“Am I to assume this is a holdup?” He smirked at his own joke.

Kitty stood tall and tossed her hair back. Then she lowered her chin and looked up at the man. There. She had him now; he was beginning to blush. Kitty loved it when she made men blush. “I’m here to pick up something that Julian Stanton—”

“Oh, yes!” the man said. “I have it in the back. Excuse me for one moment; I’ll bring it right out.”

Kitty’s toes curled in her shoes. She wondered how he knew what size ring she wore. Had one of her sisters told him? Louise? Did she know all about this? It would have to be Louise; Tish couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. She admitted this about herself; if you wanted to confide in her and asked if she could keep a secret, she would frankly say no. Then she would ask you to tell it to her anyway.

Kitty inspected some of the jewelry in the case while she waited. Rings, brooches, necklaces, bracelets, all so bright and beautiful. And she was seconds away from her own diamond engagement ring. It wasn’t happening quite the way she’d imagined, but it was happening. Part of her felt guilty for feeling such happiness on a day when her friend Maddy was suffering so. But when bad news came, you had to keep on going, just like the boys did.

“Here
we are,” the man said. He handed Kitty a silver bag. Inside was a long box, bracelet size, and a ring box, oh, black velvet! Perfect. There was also an envelope with her name on it, and Julian’s handwriting:
Read this first.

“Thank you!” Kitty told the man and rushed out of the store.
Read this first,
my eye. First she’d put on the ring. She took in a deep breath, pulled out the velvet box, and opened it. And stared. She tried mightily to hold back her feeling of disappointment. The ring was no full carat. It wasn’t even half. In fact, you could hardly
see
the diamond. Still, it was a ring. More or less.

Far less enthusiastically, she opened the bracelet box. Only it wasn’t a bracelet, it was a Lady Elgin watch. Now, here was something
nice
! She slipped it on her wrist and checked the time against the bank clock across the street. Exactly right. More slowly, then, she pushed the ring onto her finger. Or tried to. He had guessed wrong; the ring wouldn’t go past her knuckle.

But wait. Kitty understood now. This ring was merely a substitute for the real ring, something she might wear on a chain around her neck. Oh, that Julian! He must have ordered her real ring special; Munson’s probably didn’t carry diamonds the size he wanted. That was what the note would explain. She opened the envelope and read Julian’s words eagerly. Then she read them again, more slowly. And then she put the note back into the envelope, the ring back into the box, and headed toward the office. There was time to stop at the Automat for an egg salad sandwich. She would eat her lunch and think about how to do what Julian had asked.

When she got back to work, she’d show the girls her watch.

“W
ELL, AREN’T YOU TOGGED TO THE BRICKS
!

It was Saturday night, still cool for the end of May, and another meat-stretcher dinner was finished. (“For the love of God, who ever heard of
wheat cereal
in
steak
!” their father had asked, and their mother had answered pleasantly, “’Tisn’t steak anyway, Frank; ’tis ground beef. The recipe is only called ‘Emergency Steak.’”) The sisters had washed and dried and put away the dishes, and the usual argument between Billy and Binks had taken place over whose turn it was to flatten the cans and take out the garbage, until Tommy had quietly done it himself.

Now, up in their bedroom, Tish stood staring at Kitty, who was making adjustments to the thin straps of a white chiffon dress. Their mother had decided that Tish needed more chaperoning at the USO dances than her friends’ brothers had provided, and she had all but ordered Tish’s sisters to start accompanying her. With their men gone, they’d have time now.

Kitty’s dress had silver sequins sewn here and there over the bodice and on the skirt; when she twirled around, she sparkled. She was wearing new shoes, too, white heels with little bows at the front, which made your feet look smaller. “Where’d you get all that?” Tish asked.

“Goldblatt’s,” Kitty answered nonchalantly. The truth was, though, that she was very excited to wear what she’d spent her entire savings—and her shoe ration stamp—on. She’d tried on a spaghetti loop dress, with its fabric half circles sweeping down princess lines from shoulders to concealed pockets, but $7.98 was too much to spend on it. She’d loved the Two-Timer, with its tightly fitted aqua-blue jacket embroidered with gold thread: the black pebble-crepe skirt had flared divinely. But it was the white chiffon she’d finally decided on. Might as well wear a white dress this way; it sure didn’t seem like she’d be wearing the other kind anytime soon.

When she’d ridden the streetcar home, she’d kept putting her hand in her shopping bag, just to feel the fabric of her beautiful dress, just to feel the edge of the shoe box, where her heels lay nestled in tissue. She already knew where she’d hide her shoes so her sisters couldn’t get at them: in the basement, beneath her father’s fishing gear; he hadn’t fished in ages.

Kitty had felt a little strange at first, looking at all the lovely dresses while Julian was so far away, pulling them off the rack and holding them up against herself while she swayed from side to side. But then she’d decided that, if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was looking at those dresses
because
he was so far away, in more ways than one. His indifference to her wanting a ring—he had to know she was dying for one!—put her in the odd position of being angry at him at the same time that she was missing him terribly and worried sick about him. What to do about this confusing mix of emotions? Why, get dolled up and fawned over. That would fix Julian’s wagon, and the best part was he wouldn’t even know about it.

Kitty turned to the side and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see as much of herself as she could in the dresser mirror. She took in a deep breath and tossed her hair back.

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard?” Tish asked.

Kitty stuck her tongue out at her sister.

“You did! You’re supposed to be buying only the things you really need.”

Well, who didn’t know that? Everywhere you turned, you were reminded of all that the boys were doing for you. And one of the things you could do for them was “thoughtful buying.” For Pete’s sake, a person felt guilty if she ever put herself first for anything. But sometimes you just had to.

“Well, I
really need
this,” Kitty said. “You’re the one who said it contributed to the war effort to look nice.”

“Nobody gets
that
dressed up!”

“I do.”

Louise came rushing into the room with her robe tied tightly around her tiny waist—of all the sisters’, hers was the smallest: nineteen and a half inches and holding. Not so much of a bosom, though, Kitty reminded herself every time she felt a twist of envy. “Be ready in a minute,” Louise said. “Cripes, but that leg makeup takes a long time to dry! And this is Velva! Elizabeth
Arden
!”

When she saw Kitty, her mouth dropped open.

“What do you think?” Kitty asked and spun in a slow circle.

“I think…Well, jeepers, you look just beautiful, Kitty! That’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.”

Kitty smirked in Tish’s direction.

“She’s too ginned up,” Tish said. “She’ll embarrass herself. Wait till Ma and Pop see her; they won’t let her out of the house.”

“I already showed it to Ma,” Kitty said.

“When?” Tish asked.

Kitty moved to the mirror to adjust her hairpins. “When I brought it home.”

Tish snorted. “In the bag? Sure. But wait till she sees it on you!”

“You’re just jealous,” Kitty said, and when Tish crossed her arms and said, “No I’m not!” Louise told her mildly she was, too. Tish was wearing their mother’s faux pearl necklace and a nice skirt and sweater in a lovely blue color that set off her eyes, but she was nothing next to Kitty.

Tish went to the closet and pulled out one of the sisters’ oldest cardigans, a saggy white one, the bottom button hanging by a thread. “Wear this out of the house,” she told Kitty. And then, to Louise, “See? Would I help her if I were jealous?”

“I’m not wearing that!” Kitty said. “You still haven’t tightened the button, and besides that you got a mustard stain on the elbow!”

“Uh-oh,” Louise said. “I guess I got the mustard on it. I had a hot dog last time I wore it. Sorry.”

“Just wear it out of the house,” Tish said. “Believe me, I have experience in these matters.”

On this point Kitty had to agree. She snatched the cardigan from her sister, then returned to the mirror to finish perfecting her hairdo. Maybe she’d cut her hair. A girl at work had told her about a hairstyle she’d seen in a magazine called the Bombshell. You cut your hair short, then curled it into tight ringlets that “exploded” all over your head.

Louise put on a plain blue dress that she might wear to work and pulled her hair back in a snood. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Her sisters stared at her.

“That’s it?” Tish asked.

“What?” Louise looked down at herself.

“You’re so…plain,” Tish said.

“I’m engaged,” Louise said.

Tish laughed. “So are half the fellows! You’re not there to get involved; you’re there to show the guys a good time for one night! They’re scared, and they’re lonely. Most of them just want to talk!”

Louise marched over to the mirror and yanked the snood from her hair. She put combs on either side of her head and halfheartedly fluffed her curls. She put on lipstick and blotted it, using the other half of a tissue Kitty had left on the dresser top, then threw the tissue pointedly into the trash. “Let’s go,” she said, “or we’ll be late.” To Kitty, she said, “And I wish that for once you would pick up after yourself. I’m not your maid.”

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