Sunday was frigid, gray and windy. At Newark Airport a new low of six degrees was recorded at 7 a.m. But Miri, asleep in her bed under a puffy quilt, didn’t give two figs about the weather. She was dreaming of the mystery boy she’d danced with last night. She was good at that, at deciding what she’d dream about, then doing it.
When her alarm went off at 8 a.m. she reached out and turned it off. She threw on her robe and hustled to the kitchen where she prepared two eggs boiled exactly three minutes, dark rye toast slathered with butter, fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee with real cream and two sugars. She decorated the tray with a paper doily and a flower plucked from the arrangement on the hall table, a gift from Rusty’s boss and his wife. Her mother’s real name was Naomi, but because of her auburn hair, which was long and thick, everyone called her Rusty. People turned to stare when she walked by, as if maybe she was a movie star. Too bad Miri didn’t get her mother’s hair or her green eyes. Nobody stared when she walked by.
When she presented the breakfast tray, Rusty acted all surprised, like she’d forgotten it was her birthday. Miri thought about the bed jackets displayed at Nia’s. If she had had the money she’d have bought one so Rusty could have breakfast in bed in style on her birthday.
“That was delicious,” Rusty said when she’d finished her breakfast.
Miri held out the gift from Nia’s Lingerie.
“Breakfast in bed and a present?” Rusty said. “Should I open it?”
Miri nodded. What else would you do with a present?
Rusty untied the ribbon and rolled it up, then carefully removed the wrapping paper, so it could be reused. Finally she opened the box and pulled out the half-slip. “This is exactly what I wanted!”
She sounded as if she meant it. Miri was pleased.
“And in navy,” Rusty said. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s nylon tricot,” Miri told her. “And if it’s the wrong size you can exchange it.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Rusty said, reaching for Miri. She hugged her and gave her a forehead kiss.
“You’re welcome, Mom.”
After Miri cleaned up the kitchen, she decided she’d finish her homework so she wouldn’t have to do it later, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open, so she climbed back into bed and snuggled under the covers.
Ruby
Ruby sat on the stool at the counter at Hanson’s Drug Store on Fifty-first Street and Seventh Avenue in New York City, savoring a scrumptious strawberry ice cream soda topped with whipped cream, chopped nuts and a Maraschino cherry. She saved the cherry for last. When she bit into it, Jimmy, the soda jerk, said, “You’re not supposed to eat those things.”
“Why not?”
“They’re for decoration. Too many of them will kill you.”
“But just one will make you happy, right?”
“If you say so.”
Hanson’s was a celebrity hangout where Ruby was sometimes recognized—not that she minded—and where she often chatted with other entertainers, many of them famous, way more famous than her. But on this Sunday morning it was quiet, probably because of the miserable weather. She’d been a morning guest on WJZ, broadcast from Howie’s Restaurant on Sixth Avenue between Fifty-second and Fifty-third, and from there she’d walked over to Hanson’s. So what if she ordered an ice cream soda before lunch? Who was going to tell her she couldn’t have exactly what she wanted? Being the only customer gave her the chance to flirt with Jimmy, a Broadway gypsy who worked behind the soda fountain between shows. Jeez, he was so cute. Once upon a time Ruby and Jimmy had shared a backstage kiss. But it never went any further. Ruby knew better than to fall for a dancer. Besides, she’d heard he liked boys as much as girls.
Anyway, she was romantically involved with Danny Thomas’s brother Paul now. She didn’t know yet if it was going to turn into something more serious or not. Her mother was always nagging, “Get married while you still have your looks, Ruby. And for god’s sake, marry up. Having money beats the dickens out of being poor.”
As if Ruby didn’t know. Sorry, Mom, but she was nowhere near ready for marriage. She had a career to think about. And she expected to have her looks for a long time. Her agent was trying to get her on Ed Sullivan. He thought she had a good shot. A movie musical wouldn’t hurt, either. Maybe Danny Thomas would put her in his next picture. Nothing wrong with pulling a few strings while she was dating his brother.
“What time’s your plane, babe?” Jimmy asked.
“Last time I checked it was two hours late.” She looked down at the watch Paul had given her for her birthday, a pink-gold Bulova. The tiny hands told her it was almost ten-thirty. “Oops, I’m supposed to be at the airport before noon,” she said, collecting her things and paying for the ice cream soda.
Jimmy leaned in to give her a goodbye kiss on her cheek. At the last second she turned her face so his kiss landed on her lips, surprising him.
“Mmm…strawberry…” Jimmy said, licking his lips, making Ruby laugh. “Have a good trip, babe, and come back soon.”