American Music - Jane Mendelsohn [3]
The woman was also happy to be working in the hospital and not to be out on the streets. She was nearly alone in this world. Her name was Honor. Her soldier’s name was Milo.
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Is that too much? she asked.
No, he said.
She warmed more oil in her hands and rubbed her way down his arm. She loved the strong wrists, the length of his fingers, each bone like the neck of a small animal, the hollow of his palm. Reaching the center of his hand she pressed gently, then with more force, and he winced, breaking her trance.
That spot, he said. You told me once before what it was called.
In the center of your palm?
Yes.
In Chinese medicine?
Yes.
The Palace of Anxiety.
He made a sound that was almost a laugh.
1936
The three of them stood in the September heat still and formal like too many figures on a wedding cake. Then Pearl took Joe’s hand and squeezed it and looked up at him saying weren’t they lucky it wasn’t raining it was supposed to rain and then said oh and the most marvelous thing my cousin Vivian is in town. Here she is. I don’t think the two of you have ever met, have you?
Joe was sweating quite a bit now. He wiped his hand flat on his white shirt and held it out to the woman with the ships in her eyes.
No, I don’t think so, he said.
She did not lean forward to reach his hand. She held out hers and he took it. Hello Vivian, he said. Still, he felt he could not really see her face.
You must be Joe. She had a quiet voice that seemed to emerge from someplace outside of her, from her dark hair, her patterned scarf. It’s nice to meet you Joe. It was a voice that had a slight tremble in it, like the beating of a bird’s wing.
He picked up his saxophone case and his suitcase in one gesture with Pearl still holding on to his arm. The woman seemed very comfortable with silence. It made him nervous. Were you waiting long? They said the ship would be on time but we took forever to pull in … The round sunglasses reflected cars now as they walked toward the street.
Pearl grabbed his arm with both of hers. I would have waited for you all day, she said.
Only a day? he said.
A day and a half. She smiled.
The woman walked a little ahead of them, politely, although it didn’t entirely feel polite. She took off her scarf and tied it loosely around the strap of her handbag.
The car is up the block, Pearl said, hurrying beside him to keep up with his long stride.
Vivian walked on ahead and the scarf slid off from her handbag and fell to the ground. Joe pulled away from Pearl instinctively and ran up a ways and bent down to the sidewalk and he picked up the scarf with his hand still holding his saxophone case. She was standing by the car.
You dropped this, he said.
Oh thank you, she said. That was careless of me.
She took the scarf.
Pearl walked slowly toward them in the heat.
I hope I didn’t spoil your homecoming, Vivian said. Pearl insisted that I join her.
It’s nice to have a welcoming committee, he said.
Not always, she said.
She was looking right at him. He could not see through her glasses.
Yes it is, he said. Always.
They drove uptown. The air blew in the windows hot as smoke. They drove up the West Side Highway, alongside the Hudson River which shimmered white in the heat, past ferry and ship terminals and some warehouses and then out into the open where they could see New Jersey across the water green like the countryside. They passed low buildings on their right, seedy hotels and bars for sailors, cheap restaurants with a chair and table out front. Then Joe said he was sick of the water and missed the city so they turned off the highway and headed across midtown where the buildings shadowed their little vehicle like the bodies of prehistoric beasts.