“They’re for Jack.” Daisy knew Christina had a boyfriend. She’d met him once, when he’d brought his brother to the office. Christina was proud of Jack. He knew how to shake hands and look a person right in the eye. Plus, he had a great smile without ever having had orthodontia. She couldn’t tell Mama or Baba about Jack because he wasn’t Greek, which was too bad, because she was sure they’d like him.
“Lucky Jack!” Daisy said. Then she went back to the book she was reading. Christina couldn’t see the title because Daisy covered her books in oilcloth to keep them clean, the same pattern as the covering on the kitchen table at Christina’s house.
This year Natalie brought her friend Miri on the holiday outing, and the two girls sat together in their matching camel-hair coats, yakking away. They seemed so young to Christina, even though she knew they’d be in tenth grade at Battin next year. Had she been that young three years ago? She didn’t think so.
Steve was reading that new book The Catcher in the Rye. Christina had no idea what the title meant. Some of the girls at school went on dates to Staten Island, where you could be legally served at eighteen. Some of them had fake IDs. They drank rye-and-ginger ales. Maybe that’s what the title meant. The Catcher in the Rye and Ginger Ale. The idea made her laugh. If she wanted to know more she’d have to go to the public library and reserve a copy of the book. Maybe she would.
The train swerved, causing Christina to drop a stitch. She rested her knitting on her lap and looked over at Mrs. Osner, who sat with Fern. She didn’t get why they let Fern drag that cowboy bunny everywhere, and even worse, let her tell people he had no penis. In Christina’s family Fern would get her mouth washed out with soap just for saying that word out loud.
Mrs. Osner was wearing her mink coat and alligator pumps. She carried a matching alligator pocketbook. A small mink hat was perched on top of her short blond hair. Her nails were perfectly manicured. She used just a touch of makeup to accent her eyes and a bit of rouge to give her a healthy glow. Christina couldn’t help imagining Mrs. Osner’s underwear. She’d grown up playing on the floor of her mother’s shop, Nia’s Lingerie, with the packing boxes from the girdles and brassieres as her toys. She’d watched as her mother had gently guided excess flesh into boned and padded girdles, lifted sagging breasts into brassiere cups, telling each customer to take a big breath and hold it as she hooked the bottoms of the brassieres into the tops of the girdles. But Mrs. Osner was trim and probably wore just a panty girdle, bra and slip. No bones or hooks for her.
She shifted in her seat and picked up her knitting. She felt bloated. She’d doubled her pads, sprinkled them with baby powder, and neatly pinned them to her sanitary belt. Her mother had forbidden her to use Tampax until after she was safely married. “It could spoil you,” Mama said. Christina got the message. It’s good her mother didn’t know how far she’d already gone with Jack.
—
EVERY YEAR their first stop in the city was lining up to see the Christmas windows at Lord & Taylor, followed by the viewing of the huge, beautiful tree at Rockefeller Center and the skaters in the rink below. Christina sometimes skated on the frozen pond in Warinanco Park, but she had never worn a velvet skating skirt or learned to twirl with her head tilted back.
Then it was time for lunch at Lindy’s. Christina had learned to order a hot turkey platter, something she could eat with a knife and fork, instead of one of their signature sandwiches piled high with corned beef and pastrami.
She was glad she’d taken Daisy’s advice and worn the sweater set Mrs. Osner had given her on her last birthday. Mrs. Osner was pleased to see it. “That style suits you, Christina. And I like the collar.”
“My grandmother embroidered it for me.” All the girls at school were envious of Christina’s collar collection. Yaya embroidered them with tiny flowers to match her sweaters.
“An elegant touch,” Mrs. Osner said.
She wasn’t sure Mrs. Osner meant it but Daisy had taught her you never second-guess a compliment. She was lucky to have a grown-up friend like Daisy to help her navigate the world that was waiting on the other side of high school. When she looked over at Daisy, Daisy smiled at her.
—
CHRISTINA RELAXED for the first time that day when, finally, it was time for the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. She sank back into the plush red seat and let her eyes close for a minute. The movie was I’ll See You in My Dreams with Doris Day and Danny Thomas. She loved Doris Day. If Christina could be anyone, she might be Doris Day. Doris was so perky and had such a good voice. Christina sang in the shower, pretending to be Doris, belting out one song after the other. But she knew she didn’t sound anything like her, no matter how hard she tried.
After the show they made a stop at Hanson’s, the drugstore where Ruby Granik hung out before she got on the plane. Even though they weren’t supposed to talk about the crash today, a visit to Hanson’s was the one thing Natalie wanted for Hanukkah—that and dance classes in New York.
Christina needed another Midol. She needed to get to the ladies’ room to change her pads.
Daisy