I reached into my own purse and found my wallet. My hands were shaking so hard it was difficult for me to get the money out. While I fumbled, Josephine asked, ‘So you lived in Brooklyn your whole life, huh?’
‘That’s right.’
‘This is one of my first times here,’ she said. ‘I’ve mostly lived in Colorado, in the mountains. But I was born where your Dad’s from. Cobalt. We moved when I was about eight.’
I know, I wanted to tell her. Of course I knew. I pushed my hands deep into my sweater’s front pouch, begging them to stop shaking, and walked to the ice cream line. Outside, my father and Rosemary stood at the curb. It didn’t look like they were saying anything, but just standing, staring. Josephine sat down at my table and looked at the letter my father had written to me, pretending he was Mr Rice. Reading every line. And I let her. Everything was there. Things will work out as they are supposed to. You are the best person of all.
There was the button nose. Not trapped in a faded photograph, but in front of me, real. She didn’t notice me watching her, and I didn’t let her know that I was. I tried not to think, tried not to react. Parts of me screamed in surreal confusion, while other parts felt crazily, carelessly fine. I put my hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh of self-awareness, like I was looking down at this from somewhere else.
The line crept forward, a mother leaned down and asked her kids what they wanted, the register person put a limp twenty into the till. And then it was my turn at the counter. I ordered two espresso milkshakes. The worker nodded, opened the big back ice cream freezer, scooped out enough ice cream for two, and turned on the blender.
30
By the time I returned with our milkshakes, Rosemary was back at our table, explaining to Josephine that my father had to leave unexpectedly. There were prospective buyers at the apartment, she said, and he had to show it to them. My father apologized, and he would contact her tomorrow.
Josephine stood up, saying she understood, and that it was nice to meet both of us. She seemed a little relieved. After she left, Rosemary helped me gather the things from the table. ‘Thank you, Summer,’ she said, pushing our empty dishes and cups into the slot in the chrome trash can.
I found my father sitting on one of his favorite benches on the Promenade, staring out at the water. There was a bunch of newspapers on the seat next to him that I had to move aside before sitting down.
For a while, we watched the water in silence. It was so cold, I couldn’t feel my toes. My nose ran and my legs were spasmed with shivers.
‘Jesus, Summer,’ my father finally said. He put his hands through his hair. ‘Jesus, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I just couldn’t be in there any longer, once I realized…Did she leave, or…? Rosemary told her I’d call her later, right?’
I said yes.
‘Okay.’ He drummed on his knees nervously. ‘Jesus. When you said you knew…I thought you meant you knew about her.’ He still hadn’t looked at me. ‘I thought Stella had told you we were talking. I figured Stella had told you about the whole thing. She said she did.’
‘She told me the first part,’ I mumbled. ‘About you and…’ I swallowed hard. ‘…Kay. And about the accident. She mentioned Kay’s baby, too, and it’s my own stupid fault for not pushing her if the baby survived the delivery or not.’ I looked at him. ‘That is who Josephine is, right?’
My father nodded.
‘I asked you, but you didn’t answer. And I suppose Stella tried to tell me,’ I went on. ‘But she was so sick, so I didn’t know whether to believe her.’
‘I understand.’ My father stared at his palms, then out at the boats on the water. The Sea Streak ferry chugged to Wall Street, its outdoor decks empty, all the passengers crammed inside where there was heat. ‘Stella and I talked on the phone when I was in college,’ he said. ‘Nothing about what happened. Mostly just chitchat. But it helped. She even came to New York to visit me, once. We went to see a bunch of musicals. I took her to see the Rockettes at Radio City.’
I smiled. ‘Stella was always talking about how, once she beat cancer, she was going to try out to be a Rockette. She bought a video and everything. It was called The Rockette Workout.’
‘I’m glad you got to know her,’ my father said.
He cleared his throat. ‘We talked on the phone a few times while you were there. She was always telling me about you, Summer, how good you were to her. She called after the attacks, when the cancer was in her brain. Out of nowhere, she asked if I was in touch with Josephine. I’d never talked about it with her, so I was surprised that she knew. Although I shouldn’t have been. That’s why I thought she told you everything.’
I let out a stalled breath of air. ‘So…Josephine…they delivered her while Kay was in the coma?’
My father nodded. ‘Kay was kept on a ventilator until the baby was strong enough. They delivered Josephine prematurely. I never saw her. She lived in Cobalt for a while, but then Mark got a job out West. I never went back to see her, not once.’