I hurry out of the room, up the stairs, and give Raymond a quick wave. He shouts something at me, but I don’t hear him, either. I’m already slipping into the apartment side of the building, and then outside.
Sidewalk traffic is calm this late in the night. I easily spot Henry’s back and a puff of smoke. I call his name and hold out his coat. He turns, a conceited expression appearing on his face.
“Couldn’t stay away, could ya?” He closes the distance between us in three giant steps. “I knew you’d be back for more.”
His smoky breath hits my face, and I hold my own. He reaches to stroke my cheek. My fingers tighten ’round his jacket. I take a small step back.
“No, Henry.”
At the same time, someone else shouts, “Henry!” but this voice is shriller, angrier.
Down the sidewalk is another woman, older, draped in a dark fur coat, her arm wrapped protectively ’round her belly.
“Who is this?” the woman demands, pointing at me, her whole body rocking with the motion. Her fedora shifts and she fixes it. “I’ve been wandering the streets, worried sick that you’re late, and you’ve been with her?”
“No.” Henry takes a step away from me. “I got stuck late at work, that’s all.”
“Liar!” she screams, and storms toward us.
“Gertrude,” Henry calls. “Don’t make a scene.”
“Who are you?” She comes so close she nearly bumps me with her belly. “Why do you have my husband’s jacket?” She rips it from my grasp.
Husband. Husband?
“I didn’t know he was married,” I say weakly, too stunned to say anything more intelligent. This poor woman saw me inches from her husband, with Henry ’bout to stroke my face.
“You didn’t know?” she screeches, her voice cracking. “How could you not have known he was married? He’s wearing a goddamn wedding ring.”
Henry steps closer to his wife, his hand closing ’round the woman’s arm, displaying a wedding ring that wasn’t there before. “Calm down,” he says to her. “Gertrude, this isn’t good for the baby.”
“Don’t touch me!” She rips her arm free and throws the coat in his face. He doesn’t bother to catch it, lets it fall to the sidewalk. “I knew it. I knew you were cheating. I bet you were with her that night you never came home.”
“Gertrude, honey,” Henry says, softening his voice. “We’ve already talked ’bout that. You’re confused and it’s late. Let’s go home.”
She ignores her husband, turns back to me. “Who do you think you are, you little wench? Henry is married. Henry has a baby on the way. You think ’cause you’re young and beautiful that you can have any man you want?”
“No.” I wildly shake my head, my thoughts frantic and unfocused. “I’m not like that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The woman starts weeping, her face falling into her hands.
I want to reach for her, comfort her.
Henry does, and she shakes him off. “Don’t touch me!”
For the first time, Henry looks at me. His expression shocks me, as if he’s mad at me, as if all of this is my fault. His crooked tooth shows within his snarl, and there’s nothin’ endearing ’bout it.
“Tell her!” I scream at him. “Tell her the truth!”
“Honey, this girl was only returning my jacket.” He bends to pick up his coat and puts it over his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll take you home.”
“No.” She lowers her hands, exposing red, angry eyes. “No, I’m going to my sister’s.” She pins me with another menacing glare. “You can have him.”
“Please, Gertrude,” I say, hoping the use of her name will sound more sincere. “Listen to me. It’s not like that. We’re not together, I swear.”
“Then why were you close enough to kiss my husband?” She stares at me, waiting for a response.
I—I can’t form words to answer that question. My head’s too balled up to know what to say.
Part of me is relieved when she flees, running down the sidewalk with one hand under her belly, her hat flying off.
Henry takes a puff of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into my face. “You were a mistake. A mistake from the minute I laid eyes on you.”
He jogs after his wife, calling Gertrude’s name and swooping her hat off the sidewalk.
I stand there, fury and disbelief and shame radiating through me. I press my fingers into the corners of my eyes to keep tears from falling.
Taking a deep breath, I hold the air in my lungs, my chest quivering.
I exhale, trying to breathe out every essence and memory of Henry. My breath hitches, and I know it’s from the way his wife’s hand shook as she protectively clutched her belly. I turn back toward the apartment building’s door, certain that visual will stay with me for months to come.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a subtle movement.
My stomach plummets before my mind fully registers who’s standing only a few feet away.
Roy.
16
Roy and I stare at each other, both at a loss for words.
He simply stands there, his clothes seeming baggy, his face seeming droopy. His hand hangs limply at his side, holding a piece of paper.
“Roy,” I say shakily, and step closer. “How much of that did you hear?”
He makes me wait for what feels like an hour for his stern response: “Enough.”
That single word is packed with so much anger. I wring my hands. “I can explain.”
“Of course you can. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”
“No, no,” I say. “You’re not stupid. I am.”
“That may be the only thing we can agree on right now.”
His words push me back a step. I struggle to meet his gaze. “I deserve that. But Henry is nobody.”
“Henry?” Roy’s eyes get bigger. “You’re on a first-name basis?” He looks away, back. Roy gestures behind me, to the spot where Henry and I argued, the brownness of his irises seeming darker. “I guess you would be. Who is he, Bonnelyn? Is that the guy Hazel caught you with?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Go figure. Even Blanche has too much self-respect to be with a fella like that.”
His words sting, but I deserve it. I deserve getting caught, getting yelled at. Still, I take a step forward, trying to make our conversation more intimate, and give Roy what he deserves: the truth.
“I ain’t at the diner anymore. I’m a bar-back at a speakeasy. It’s called Doc’s.” I wait for Roy’s face to change at the admission of my secrets, but it doesn’t. “And that guy, he comes in. But he’s nobody. I told him today to leave me be.”
“And before today?”
I swallow, searching for the right words. “He was just someone at Doc’s. I didn’t know he has a wife, I swear.”
“Him having a wife is a different matter. Who is he to you? He’s obviously more than someone.”
I blink my eyes closed, hold ’em that way while I collect my thoughts. A tear slips out. Normally Roy would leap forward and wipe that tear away. Not today. I do it myself, and say, “We flirted a little. I liked the attention he gave me. I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Roy. I love you.”
“What kind of attention?” Roy asks, his voice dangerously low.
“I don’t know. He said nice things to me.”
Everything ’bout that sounds lame, downplayed. Roy’s face mimics my sentiment. “So what did you do with him?”