“Where’s your wife?”
“Boston!” Harvey cheered and then grinned. “With her dear mother.”
Mary sighed, glanced around the great marble station, at the tall windows. “How long is the train ride?”
“Thirty minutes. There’s a lovely place in town and then you can stay overnight.” He pinched her behind.
Mary jumped back and caught the eyes of a well-dressed woman walking by, staring disapprovingly at them. “Harvey. We’re in public!” Mary said.
Harvey laughed. “Public schmublic!” He took her hand and kissed it extravagantly. “Let us depart, my beauty. Let us leave this Titanic. Sail for calm seas.”
Mary rolled her eyes. He was such a lush, absolutely intolerable when he was drinking. Last week, he’d come to her room three sheets to the wind, and he kept throwing her over his knees so he could spank her. He got her good, too, because a couple of purple and gray bruises flowered up on her behind that night. No, Mary did not want to go to the country with Harvey, or to wherever he lived. She wanted to go to the Oyster Bar. Unfortunately, Harvey was so drunk, surely the maitre d’ would not admit them.
She stared up at Harvey, at his reddened cheeks, his dark five o’clock shadow, and an idea suddenly sparked in her mind: she’d go with him, he’d sober up on the train, take her to supper, they’d go to his house and when he passed out, she’d take his money and anything else worth having. That should keep the rent paid for the next month.
Mary brushed her skirt with her gloved hands and agreed to accompany him. “You have to buy me a ticket because I got no money.”
“With pleasure,” he said, holding out his arm so she could hook hers through his. When they began walking, he stumbled a bit and she had to catch him. “Whoops a daisy!” he slurred.
The ride lasted an hour and when they arrived at his town in Connecticut, the platform was deserted. During the ride, Harvey had pulled out a flask and drank from it, and then, right before they arrived at the station, he had passed out in his seat. It took both Mary and the conductor to get him off the train.
Harvey led the way to the road and in the moonlight, the two walked, Harvey stumbling here and there.
“Where’s the restaurant?” Mary asked, her feet sore in her strappy pumps. Like the platform, the road was deserted, and there was no town or building in sight.
“Around the bend,” he muttered.
She could see no bend and they walked for ten minutes before they came upon a large house. “Home,” Harvey said.
Mary’s stomach grumbled. “You were supposed to take me to supper.”
Harvey laughed and blessed himself. “Forgive me, sister. For I have told a lie.”
Mary stopped and unhooked her arm from his. “I’m very hungry.”
“I’ll make you steak. Step into my castle, my lady.” He bowed and waved his arm.
The house was magnificent – Oriental rugs, Windsor chairs. The kitchen was large and as Harvey went to the parlor for a drink, Mary placed her pocket book on the counter, took off her gloves, and searched for something to eat. There was no meat, no steak, or anything to make a proper dinner, but there was bread in the breadbox, eggs on the counter, and a half-eaten chocolate cake under a glass dome on the kitchen table. She located a pan and a bowl in the cupboards and quickly went to work preparing herself French toast. There was even cinnamon and sugar and within minutes, Mary had made herself a meal. She sat at the table, eating, all while eyeing the chocolate cake. As a child she’d only seen chocolate cake in a bakery window. She’d never had a piece until the year before, when Mr. Parker gave her a slice after he took her to his apartment. Mary liked cake, especially chocolate, and when she was done with the French toast, she found a cleaver, lifted up the glass dome, and hacked off a slice.
She was thirsty and poured the rest of the milk into a large glass and drank it. She did not clean up after herself – just left it for Mrs. Gilbert or her maid to take care of, if there was a maid. Most likely there was.
Afterward, Mary wandered through the large rooms with their draped gossamer curtains and porcelain lamps. She eventually went upstairs where she found Harvey, still dressed in his suit and tie, asleep in his wide bed. A clock sat on the night table and the time read 12:15. Beautiful glass doors faced the road and when Mary opened them, they led onto a small balcony with a low railing, something she hadn’t noticed when they arrived. She stood in the chilly air, the full moon shining down on her, glowing like a stage light. She blew kisses to an imaginary audience, curtsied, smiled, posed, blew more kisses, and then returned inside. She studied Harvey, splayed on the bed, and rolled her eyes. She fetched her purse from downstairs and returned to the bedroom.
Mary ruffled through Harvey’s pockets and found thirty-five dollars, a windfall considering her rent was $4.00 a week. “Good boy,” she muttered, taking the cash. Then she went through his dresser drawers, locating another five dollars. Mrs. Gilbert’s jewelry box was on the bureau, and out of curiosity, Mary perused it. She found a pearl necklace and held it up to her throat. She tried on the garnet ring and the Egyptian bangle. Mary glanced at Harvey on the bed and guilt overcame her. She didn’t want to take Mrs. Gilbert’s things. The poor woman was married to a schmuck – having nice jewelry was probably the only good thing about being tied to Harvey Gilbert. But Mary did find a silver hatpin with a lady sitting on the moon and because it was so pretty, she took it, sticking it in her beaded pocket book. She opened a drawer and found two tubes of lipstick: a coral color and another red. She leaned toward the mirror and applied the coral. It looked nice.
She returned downstairs and searched the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen. She found $1.26 in a jar.
The time was 12:45. Mary knew there were no trains back to the city at this time of night – earlier she’d asked the conductor – but there would be at dawn. She decided to have another slice of chocolate cake.
The noise of clinking glass woke her. She had drifted off in the parlor on the sofa, her pocket book in her hands. Harvey was in the corner of the room, near the sideboard, pouring himself a drink. A small clock sat on the fireplace and it read 4:10.
“Dollface, wakey wakey,” he said. “I need you.”
Mary sighed and closed her eyes, shifted and faced the back of the sofa, her pocket book tucked safely against her stomach. She was not interested in what he had in mind. “I’m sleepy, Harvey.”
She heard his footfalls and felt the cushion sinking underneath her body as he sat down. Booze permeated the air like a factory stink. He put his hand on her behind and caressed it. “Now, now,” he said softly. “Upstairs, my beauty.”
“Leave me alone, Harvey.”
She felt him get up from the sofa and she let out a breath of relief. But then he slapped her on her backside. “Get up!”
Mary twisted around and shot up. “Harvey, there’s no slapping! I told you that.”
“Haha! Playing hard to get!” He grabbed her and she pushed him away.
They stood looking at each other and he winked. “Come on, dear. Please.”
Mary thought quickly – she had all that money in her pocket book. Her best bet was to get out of the house. “Harvey, go up and I’ll be right there. I just want to freshen up.”
A smile crawled on his face and he cocked his head. “Very good.” He turned and made his way up the staircase.
When he was safely upstairs, Mary pulled off her strappy heels and tiptoed to the front door. With her shoes and pocket book in one hand, the other hand on the door knob, she quietly opened the door. Then she took a breath and made a run for it.
“Hahaha!” Mary heard Harvey laugh as she raced across the yard, the dewy grass making it slippery. She looked behind her, stopped, and there, in the moonlight, Harvey was standing on the balcony in his white skivvies and dress shirt unbuttoned. Harvey held something in the air that jangled. “I have a car and I’m gonna come get you!”