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“Sure I do. Lately, I think about it a lot.”
“Not me, girlfriend. But I’ve thought about you. Sometimes, thinking about you was the only thing that kept me going. I’d read about you in the paper and think, Why, I know that girl, and if she can do it…You know the sort of thing, silly stuff, but it gave me hope. My friend the world-class model, practically a movie star. Oh, my, yes, I gave you lots of thought. I still do, every time I see a magazine with your face on the cover, wearing that famous ruby-red lipstick.”
“I’m paid to wear that lipstick, you know.”
“I figured as much. So, what have you been up to? I haven’t seen your picture lately. Oh, wait, I remember. You hooked up with the good-looking brother from Long Island, that Boylan ambassador fellow, if I remember correctly. Married yourself a real live prince, straight out of Cinderella, and went to live in Europe somewhere.”
Althea’s amber eyes held a faint glint of humor. “Paris, actually.”
“Paris,” Benicia sighed. “Imagine that, your whole life has been one big fairy tale, hasn’t it? Just like you said it would be. It just goes to show, a small-town girl really can make good in this nasty old world.”
“Oh, Benicia, fairy tales don’t always end happily. My husband and I—our divorce was finalized a few weeks ago. It just hasn’t hit the papers yet.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my, I’m so sorry, Althea.”
“It’s all right, Benicia.” Althea blinked. “How could you know? You would have soon enough, in any case. It will be in all the papers soon.”
“Is that why you’re here in New York?”
“Actually, I only just got back a few days ago.”
“And you run into me and my big mouth. Like I said, I’m really, really sorry.”
“Don’t be. Things happen.”
“Too true,” Benicia said thoughtfully. “Say, listen, I was just window shopping, stalling for time. I have a free hour before I have to go to a meeting. Do you have time for a cup of coffee, catch up on old times? Unless—” Benicia hesitated “—you’re busy. You’re probably busy.”
“I’m not too busy for an old friend,” Althea said firmly. “And a cup of tea sounds perfect.”
The two women made their way a few blocks over to Houston Street, laughing over silly memories that began immediately to surface. Althea talked her friend into having lunch at a small Ethiopian restaurant that served an excellent tea, and tiny glasses of Tej, Ethiopia’s popular honey wine. It wasn’t long before the years fell away and they grew comfortable with each other, although Benicia was careful to stay away from the subject of her friend’s divorce.
“So, tell me,” Benicia asked, as the Tej began to warm them, “you were always talking about going to New York to become a model. Was it worth it?”
“Well, it wasn’t like I was any sort of scholar back in Birmingham, just another pretty girl with a good body and interesting eyes. But my mom lives in a real nice house now with an honest-to-goodness white picket fence and a garden, which is all she ever wanted. So, yes, it was worth it. Of course, it wasn’t without its difficulties. But, hey, that’s a conversation for another day. Let’s talk about you. You look terrific, you know. The same, but different.”
She meant it, too. Benicia looked great. The glossy black curls Althea remembered from their childhood were now worn in a tight cap, her brow was a delicate thin arch over her big, olive-black eyes, and the flirty, long gold earrings she favored set off her graceful neck.
“I do try to take care of myself,” Benicia grimaced with good humor.
“So, are you going to tell me how you landed in New York, considering how angry you were when I left.”
“Considering?” Benicia repeated as their waiter arrived with two steaming bowls of Chicken Wat stew. “Oh, this smells so good.”
“I thought you would like it. It’s my favorite.”
“I can see why,” Benicia said as she picked up her spoon. “But do you mean to say that you don’t follow the Birmingham gossip?” she asked, returning to her thread of thought. “Your momma never told you?”
“Like I said, my mother doesn’t live in the old neighborhood anymore. But now you’ve got my curiosity up, what don’t I know?”
Neatly putting aside her spoon, Benicia rummaged about in the huge tote bag at her feet until she found her wallet. Opening it carefully, she drew out a slender folio of photographs and handed it to Althea. “His name is James. He’s nine years old and he is the most important thing in my life. He is my life.”
“Oh, Benicia, he’s adorable. I didn’t know you were married.”
Benicia’s eyes grew slanted. “I never said I was married.”
“But—”
“The brother had plans,” Benicia said coolly as she quickly retrieved her son’s pictures and stuffed them back in her bag. “Unfortunately, they didn’t include fatherhood. So, it seems we’re both single women, aren’t we?”
Althea fiddled with her silverware, unsure what to say.
Observing her friend’s discomfort, a flash of amusement flitted across Benicia’s round face. “Althea Almott, if I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were blushing. The Alabama in a girl never quite disappears, does it?”
Althea was surprised by Benicia’s observation. No matter how hard she tried to leave the South behind, Alabama did live just below the sophisticated surface she had worked so hard to acquire—a multilayered conservatism that kept her slightly off balance.
“Oh, Althea, I’m only teasing you,” Benicia said, patting her friend’s hand gently. “I don’t complain about being a single mom. I’ve had a long time to figure things out. You don’t remember what a stubborn kid I was, always having to learn things the hard way.”
Confused, Althea sent her a curious look. “How do you mean?”
“I got pregnant,” Benicia said bluntly. “Soon after you left.” For one brief moment, her soft voice was wistful. “I had plans, but then real life had a way of intruding.”
“Oh, there’s truth to that, all right,” Althea agreed sadly. “But what happened to James’s dad?”
“A really good question, for which I have a really dumb answer. I made it easy for him. I let him go. Nobody had to do me any favors! I knew how to take care of myself. Mistake number one was letting him have his way. Mistake number two was letting him get away.”
“Do you ever see him?”
Benicia shook her head. “I wanted him to stay, and I think he did, too. Lordy, that man swore up and down the Mississippi that it wasn’t me. But I was pregnant…. I think he panicked, but how could I blame him? He was only a kid himself, gone before I even started showing. The oldest story in the world, isn’t it?” Benicia said with a sad sigh. “Oh, well, all that’s history, now. But something told me to have this baby, which I did. All by myself.”
“All by yourself?” Althea repeated with a frown. “Your family didn’t help? Where was your mother?”
“Come on, Althea, you remember my momma. When she found out I was pregnant, she beat the living daylights out of me, then she kicked me out of the house. Nowadays, things are different, but back then…” She raised her wineglass, an ironic smile on her face. “To small towns.”
“And to James,” Althea added quickly.
“Thank you.” Benicia nodded as they clicked glasses. “To the future president of the United States.” She laughed. “This week, anyway. If he runs true to form, he’ll want to be a brain surgeon by next week. But, hey, enough of me. What about you, the big star and all?”
“A small star in a firmament of thousands.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You are so famous, I can’t help but tell everyone I know you. And they always know who I’m talking about.”
“Well, that’s sweet, but I’ve been away awhile. I don’t know how long you shine in that firmament.”
“The public’s memory isn’t that short. You should know. So, where do you go from here?”
“I have some decisions to make. But right now I have to call it a day,” she said, pushing back her chair. “I left about four tons of mail sitting on my dining room table waiting to be sorted, not to mention three hundred phone calls I have to make.”
“Getting back into the routine?” Benicia laughed.
“It will take a few weeks,” Althea said. “Will I see you again? Will you call me, if you have a chance? We can’t not see each other another ten years. And I would like to meet James.”
“I’ll call,” Benicia said vaguely.
Althea got into a cab, wondering if she would. She rode back home, her head filled with thoughts of Alabama, memories she usually preferred not to examine suddenly clamoring for attention…
Her mother leaving every night at nine to work the night shift at a local factory so she could be around Althea during the day; standing in line every other Monday, rain or shine, waiting with her mother for their food stamps; Tuesdays, free cheese distribution at the welfare center; Thursdays, the day stale bread was distributed by a nearby package outlet, and if Althea had been really good that week, if she had passed all her tests in school, her mother gave her fifty cents to buy a box of stale cupcakes.
All her mother’s hard work scrimping, Althea thought bitterly, and the most they had ever had to show for it? An ugly shack with four unpainted walls that barely supported a tin roof. The day Althea handed her mother the keys to a little red brick house, they had stood together on the porch and cried. They didn’t need words to know how far they had come, how long the walk had been. Her mother’s first steps into her new home had been Althea’s proudest moment.
Had it been worth it?
Yes, she thought, thinking back to Benicia’s question as she entered her apartment thirty minutes later. Throwing her keys in the blue Depression-glass bowl that sat on a gleaming refectory table, hanging her fur coat in the huge cedar closet, putting the tea to boil on her Viking stove. Yes, she thought, as she looked out at the view over the brawniest city in the world—and she a part of it—yes, it had been worth it.
Chapter Three
Althea left the Niles Model Agency shell-shocked. Numb with disappointment, she stumbled twice in the snow, she was so distraught. Suddenly the sun wasn’t so bright, the city’s hoary skyscrapers seemed as gray as her prospects. If she hadn’t been afraid to rash her cheeks with salty tears, she would have cried.
The only thing that saved her from a complete breakdown was the sight of Harry Bensen when she arrived at Elmhurst Hospital, soon after the disastrous interview with her old employer. When she walked into his hospital room, her arms filled with flowers, he was sitting up, dozing against some pillows.
“Harry?” she whispered. Slowly he opened his eyes. They were still glassy, but he did seem more alert. Hollowed as they were, they could not hide the beautiful curve of his smile or the deep cleft of his chin when he saw who had arrived.
“Althea? I know you said you would stop by,” he whispered, “but I just assumed you were being polite.”
Carefully Althea set the flowers on the window-sill. “Harry Bensen,” she said lightly as she shrugged off her coat. “Weak as can be, mouthy as ever.” Coming on top of her disastrous visit to the Niles Model Agency, Althea was hurt by his seeming rejection and resolved to make this a quick visit.
Harry’s lips stretched into a lopsided grin, and his voice grew stronger as he spoke. “And you. Still as beautiful as ever. And look, yellow roses, in the middle of winter. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m grateful to you, coming all the way from Manhattan to see me.”
“My pleasure.” She had to admit he looked very appealing lying there in the hospital camouflage that did very little to conceal the hard planes of his body. Whatever disease he was harboring had not affected his appeal. Throwing her coat across the back of a chair, Althea gingerly approached the edge of the bed. “You’re looking much better, Mr. Bensen.”
“I feel better, even if it has been a long couple of days.”
“I’ll just bet. Tell me, how long were you sick before you collapsed? You must have been ill on the plane. Didn’t you realize?”
“Oh, I knew what was happening, but I tried to fight it. I was on a shoot in northwest Brazil when I took sick, about thirty miles outside of Manaus. That’s a small town on the Amazon River. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get there?”
“What, no subway?” Althea asked, her eyes wide with mischief.
“It must not have been running,” Harry drawled. “Anyhow, there I was, in the middle of nowhere, boiling my water like a good boy, and I’d had all my shots, and I was careful what I ate…. I guess my resistance was low. I started getting headaches…then chills…. The initial attack wasn’t too bad, I thought I had malaria at first, but the doctors in Manaus assured me it was just a garden-variety virus. I had a bout with malaria years ago and once you’ve had malaria, you’re susceptible to its reoccurrence. I was prepared for it, too. Malaria, that is. I had my meds in my backpack and plenty of aspirin. Let’s just say the quinine wasn’t working as fast as it should. Turns out it wasn’t working because whatever I have, it’s not malaria, thank God.”
“But when you knew you were getting worse, don’t you think you should have left Brazil?”
“Hey, I was in the middle of some really interesting work. I’m trying to get a handle on the rainforest decimation in that area. It’s going to be a real scandal when the word gets out, let me tell you, and with a book coming out—well, it’s supposed to come out this spring—my photographs are going to be the centerpiece. It was way important to finish the job and I had so little left to do. Like I said, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to fly back and forth to South America. We won’t even talk about the cost of the plane fare. To be honest, though, I barely made it back to Manaus. From there, I was lucky enough to grab a boat up the Amazon to Macapa. I only left Manaus in the first place because my hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold my camera steady.”
“Harry, how unwise.”
“Yeah, I know. I spent a week in Macapa General Hospital, but when I got the chance to jump a military transport back to the States, I took it. I had just landed—flown twenty-two hours, nonstop—when I ran into you.”
“But you have your pictures,” Althea said with a sad shake of her head.
“I have my pictures,” Harry agreed, “that’s the important thing. You know I hate to say it, Allie, I know I’m the one who’s sick, but you’re looking a little off yourself. Is anything wrong? You never did tell me why you were back in the States.”
So much for spending two hours in front of her mirror, Althea thought. She affected innocence, but Harry wasn’t fooled.
“Come on, Allie, I won’t give away your secrets. You always had a certain look when you were upset. Watching you frown, I remembered.” The worry in her eyes was more than apparent, it lived in a tiny crease above her brow.
“I have no secrets.”
Suddenly overcome by an explosive cough, Harry didn’t challenge her. Frightened, Althea held a glass to his lips and he managed to take a few sips before collapsing back on his bed. “It’s okay… I’m okay. Thanks. They’re not sure, they took X-rays, I may have a touch of pneumonia.”
“A touch of pneumonia,” Althea gasped. “Next time, I’ll bring cough drops instead of flowers. Do you want me to call a nurse?”
“No, don’t, please, don’t. I’m medicated to the gills, and they’re so busy, as it is. Tell me about yourself, instead,” Harry insisted as he lay back and closed his eyes. “That will distract me.”
Althea hesitated, unsure what to do. Harry was white as a ghost from the coughing spell. Smoothing his sheets back into order, she gave in gracefully. Privately, she decided that if he had another coughing fit, she would not ask his permission to ring for a nurse.
“Sometimes,” she said with a shake of her head, “I think I should save the paparazzi some legwork and send out bulletins, the way my life is scrutinized by the tabloids.”
“I’ve noticed,” Harry said with a small smile, opening his eyes a crack.
“Oh, not you, too?” she wailed in mock horror.
“I can’t help it. Your face stares back at me from every magazine rack, across every cash register, in every supermarket in this country. Whenever I buy a quart of milk I get an update on your life.”
“You just can’t help reading those tabloids, hmm, even knowing that most of what they print isn’t true?”
“Not me!” Harry protested, but the smile on his lips belied his promise. “Don’t worry, I don’t believe half of it. Mostly, I just look at the pictures, I don’t buy them.”
“No one does.”
Harry’s sudden bark of laughter was a welcome surprise. “Yeah, well… Of course, it’s been a long time since I bought a quart of milk. So, let’s see, what’s it been, eight, ten years since we’ve laid eyes on each other? Or is it that I just read about you so much that I feel like I’ve seen you more often?”
“Who can say? I don’t keep track of those kinds of things.”
“Is that what I was, a kind of thing?” Harry spoke so casually, Althea missed the probing glint in his eyes.
“An hour or so with an old friend, shall we leave it at that?”
“That would be nice, Allie, Auld Lang Syne and all that, if I didn’t know that sentiment was not your strong point.”
Althea was taken aback. “Harry, how can you say something like that?” But she knew what he meant. They were not old friends, he was not the guy that got away, he was the one who had been shown the door. She started to rise, but Harry quickly reached for her hand.
