I decided this bit was too long for a flashback in my ongoing story, The Writer and The Actress, so I am posting it as a oneshot. I think it is strong enough to stand on its own. Ann is 'the saddest girl I've ever met' for a reason, and I've attempted to explain a few of the reasons here. I see her as a very tragic figure who struggles very hard to keep trying to see the good in the world. That's why her job is to make people laugh, it's what she does to try to compensate for the tragedies she's had to face in her life. But the tragedies have made her strong. I think it is intersting that some people are annoyed with Ann for seemingly deserting her wonderfully brave hero, Jack. I don't see it that way. She doesn't desert him, she just has many reasons for distance...
Maureen turned away from her dressing table mirror and twirled around as she held her brand new, shamrock green silk dress up to her shoulders.
"Do you think John will like it?" She asked breathlessly.
Ann sat on the bed, thin arms hugging her knees to her chest. She nodded enthusiastically. "Oh my, yes. How could he not? It matches your eyes splendidly!"
Maureen smoothed the creamy material over her stomach and hips; her hand lingering over her stomach for a few moments. "I thought so." She flashed Ann a dazzling smile and carefully laid the garment on the bed. "Help me with my slip, will you, love?"
Ann eagerly hopped up from the bed where she had been, with great interest, watching Maureen coif and primp, rouge and curl her way from pretty to stunning.
Maureen handed Ann a flimsy silk slip and then extended her pale graceful arms. Ann bunched up the slip to the head hole and slipped the garment over Maureen's arms and head and then yanked it firmly into place.
"Oh, bother, the strap is ripped." Maureen lamented; her thin, arching eyebrows coming together in vexation. "Be a love and fetch me Mother's sewing basket."
Ann nodded and pranced out of the room. Soon she returned, markedly subdued, bearing the stout rattan hamper that had been their mother's erstwhile companion. There always had been a never-ending stream of ripped stockings, torn trousers knees, and ripped lace on various dainties to be repaired. As each day drowsily flowed to an end, Papa would sit in his battered overstuffed chair and read aloud from the newspaper; Mother would sit in her creaky oak rocker and courageously attack the mending pile. Her nimble fingers would whip tiny stitches through yet another hole Ann had ripped in her stockings while climbing the tree at the park. The basket had been a stalwart member of the Darrow family's evening ritual for many years.
And then Papa had died. How he could have done that was still a festering, incredulity to Ann's heart. But after he had gone, the blaring silence in the evenings was too much for her to bear and so she sat on Papa's chair, digging her toes into the rug to keep from slipping out and read the newspaper until her voice was hoarse. Mother would sit in her rocker, more often than not, bitter tears streaming down her chapped cheeks, and she would mend, mend, and mend.
Now, the basket was the only tangible thing they had left of their Mother; or of their whole family, really.
Annie, go get Mother's sewing basket. The lights were too low backstage, and I tripped and fell. Look at the awful rip in my costume! Mrs. Greenburg will be a fright if she sees what I did.
Ann had slipped out of the theatre and ran home to fetch the basket. Ann had been waiting for just such an occasion to beg mamma to stay the night with Maureen in her new apartment. Always, Ann was met with the same dismissal: A girl your sister's age should not be living alone in the city when she has a perfectly decent home to live in, so you, Miss Ann Darrow, are definitely too young!
That night Mother had finally acquiesced, probably out of pure exhaustion. The poor woman had been up since four in the morning mending and washing load after load of other people's laundry. Ann had squealed in delight and then quickly set about packing some underclothes and a nightgown in an old woolen satchel. With satchel and sewing basket in hand, Ann had kissed her Mother good night, and promised to be home the next morning by seven o'clock sharp. Ann had fairly danced her way back to Maureen's.
That night the house had burned.
Ann rubbed the smooth worn dark wood of the basket's handle with her thumb as she sank down on to the bed; the memories clotting her eyes with hot tears. "Funny how we still call it that; Mother's…..Mother's basket." Ann said quietly.
"Annie, get a needle and some thread…." Maureen began.
"Do you still think about her? Do you remember James?" Anguish had crept into Ann's voice.
"Of course; every day." Maureen sighed. She knew exactly where this conversation was headed; she and her sister had gone through it dozens of times, and it always took poor Annie down a scathing path of guilt and regret. "It wasn't your fault, Annie, it wasn't. There was nothing you could have done."
Ann's suddenly upturned face was savage with self-blame. "If I had been there…."
"Stop it!" Maureen demanded. She took Ann firmly by her shoulders. "You stop it right now, Annie! It's over and done; they are dead. We can't go back, we can only go forward."
Ann shrugged Maureen's hands away. "How can you say that? You make it sound like we should turn our backs on them and run away so we can forget them."
"No, Annie, that isn't what I mean." Maureen tossed the cascade of red-gold curls over her shoulder and leaned forward to grasp Ann's quivering chin. "Look at me." Maureen commanded.
Ann's gaze stubbornly dropped to the floor.
"Look at me, Annie" Maureen repeated softly.
Ann's glistening blue eyes found her sister's intense stare.
"What did Mother do after Papa died? Did she sulk and fuss and blame herself? No! She buckled down and carried on. And she expects us to do the same."
"But she cried all the time." Exclaimed Ann.
"She cried at night when the work was done. That's when she had time for it." Maureen dropped her hand and folded her arms lightly across her chest. "You can cry when the work is done, but not a minute before. What you can't do is blame yourself. I won't hear it anymore. And besides, why is it always your fault, anyway? Why wasn't it mine? I was the one who fell down and ripped my costume. I was the one that sent you to fetch mama's basket. I was the one who suggested you stay the night with me. We have been through this a thousand times! I thank God every night that you were with me, if you hadn't been, you would have died the same as Mother and poor little James."
Ann wrapped her arms tightly around her own shoulders, and dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of her upper arms. Her sweet face was screwed up in a bitter grimace as she valiantly battled the shuddering sobs that threatened to consume her. After nearly two years the pain, at times, was still raw and unrelenting, rasping at her heart in dreadful slashing waves. Ann squeezed her eyes shut and frantically searched for the strength she knew was there, but at times bolted, leaving her alone to flail miserably in her grief. When at last she found the elusive bit of steel, she grasped it with all of her might.
The fiery-haired young woman gently stroked Ann's platinum curls.
"It's going to be all right, Annie, you'll see. We are going to come out of this A OK." Maureen soothed.
Ann dashed the unwanted tears from her eyes and sniffed loudly.
"You never have a handkerchief when you need one; goodness." Maureen murmured. In one fluid motion, she rose from the bed and glided over to her chest of drawers. She extracted a neatly folded, lace-edged handkerchief from the top left drawer and brought it back to Ann.
"Blow your nose, you silly goose." Maureen said as she undid the latch on the sewing basket.
Ann complied by honking loudly into the frilly piece of linen. She sat and watched Maureen perform the same task Mother had done so many times in the past. The motions of threading the needle, stitching, and then a quick bite to cut the thread struck Ann as soothingly familiar; despite the painful upheaval in her life, the simplest things had remained constant.
There will always be mending, Ann thought.
She watched her sister carefully rewind the spool of white thread and replace it in its place in the basket; the same place where Momma had kept it. The simple action was a balm to Ann's heart.
Maureen handed the slip back to Ann. "Good as new. Help me finished getting dressed?" Maureen asked gently. "John will be here soon."
"Of course."
"That's my girl." Maureen said fondly.
Ann helped Maureen back in to her slip and then lifted the dress and carefully pulled it over her sister's waiting arms. Maureen's red gold head popped out of the neck hole.
"Careful, you'll muss my hair, Annie."
"Sorry." Ann said sheepishly.
Ann stepped back to admire Maureen. Ann clasped her small thin hands to her heart and took in the dazzling sight of her beautiful older sister.
"Oh, Maureen. You are so beautiful. You're just perfect." Ann said wistfully.
Maureen turned and reached out for her younger sister with both hands. She had seen that look on Annie's face before; such an impatient longing was etched in her sweet young face.
"Oh sweetie, you are so beautiful, too! Look at those big blue eyes and that sweet, sweet smile." Maureen murmured. She gently turned Ann around so the girl could see her reflection in the mirror. "What do you see when you look in the mirror, Annie?"
"I see me." Ann said softly.
"Can I tell you what I see? I see a very pretty girl, no; you aren't quite a girl anymore, are you?" Maureen's hands followed the gentle curves just beginning to soften Ann's slim figure.
"You are turning into a real woman right before my eyes, little one. Mother would be so proud of you. And you know what Papa would say, don't you?"
Ann shook her head slowly. "No, what would Papa say?"
Maureen smiled. "He'd say 'Louise, why couldn't we have just had ugly daughters, I'd be saving a mint on buckshot.'"
Ann giggled. She remembered Papa saying that when Maureen was about Ann's age. "He'd say that for me, too?" Ann stared earnestly at her reflection, trying desperately to see the girl her sister was describing.
"Of course, Annie!" Maureen said enthusiastically. "Here, sit down." Maureen pushed Ann down into the little chair in front of the mirror. "Hmmm, this color should be just right." Maureen picked a small pot of rouge up and began rubbing her finger vigorously along the inside.
"Oh, no you don't, Maureen. Momma would be just furious. You know how she felt about you wearing make up!"
An impish grin curled the corners of Maureen's full lips. "You just sit still, Ann Katherine Darrow." Maureen charged. "And let me show you why one day men aren't going to be able to keep their eyes off of you!"
"Maureen! I don't want men's eyes on me." Ann said, quite scandalized.
"Believe me, little sister, one day you will. One day there will be one very special pair of eyes that you'll want on you very badly. You'll wake up every morning and hope…." Maureen's voice trailed away into silence.
"Hope what, Maureen?"
"Hope that he wants you, too." Maureen said in a whisper.
"Oh." Ann said, hesitating slightly. "I'm not quite sure I understand."
Maureen turned Ann around and began applying rouge to Ann's cheeks. "You will one day. But for now I want you to stay exactly the way you are: my beautiful little angel." Maureen began rubbing another colorful concoction to Ann's lips. "You can always see the good in people and things, no matter how bad they might be. That is a special gift, Annie; I admire that about you so much. You'll be more beautiful than I ever hope to be because of that very quality. But it also makes me afraid for you, sweetie."
"Why afraid, Maureen?"
"Afraid because there are so many…people out there that will want to take advantage of your goodness. I've been out and about for a few years, Annie. I've seen the parts of the world that aren't so good. Listen to me, sweetie, I won't always be around watching out for you. You'll get out on your own…"
"I don't want to be alone, Maureen, I want to stay with you, please don't send me away." Ann implored.
"Oh, Annie, no, oh honey, that isn't what I meant. I meant that you won't always have me standing right next to you. We'll always be together. We are all we have, you and I."
An odd look came to Ann's face. "Don't you ever leave me." She said flatly.
"I won't sweetie, I promise. Will you promise me one thing?"
"What?"
Maureen took Ann by the shoulders and turned her to face the mirror. Ann gasped at the change that Maureen had wrought in such a short time.
"Oh my, I'm a painted woman." Ann gasped.
Ann giggled and Maureen grinned.
"Promise me that you will pay very close attention to eyes." Maureen said seriously.
"Eyes?" Ann repeated.
"Yes, sweetie, eyes. There will be some that will look as if their greedy owners could devour you body and soul in a single gulp. It will be like looking into the eyes of a wolf. When you see that, you run away."
"I will, I promise." Ann said breathlessly, and then continued in a rush. "Papa didn't have wolf eyes, Maureen."
"No he didn't. Not every man….not all of them are like that."
"How will I know the difference?"
"You'll know right away." Maureen said with confidence. "He will look you straight in your eyes, he won't be able to resist those beautiful baby blues of yours, you know; you will see something completely different. In the place of lechery and avarice," Maureen said, her mouth twisting as if she had bitten a lemon, "you will see that he'll do anything for you; everything for you, including keeping you safe from the wolves." She finished bitterly.
"Is that what you see when you look into Mr. Appleby's eyes?" Ann asked anxiously.
Maureen dropped her hands from Ann's thin shoulders and turned away.
"You ask too many questions, little sister." Maureen retorted in a tone of voice the Ann knew too well.
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry; just go fetch my black leather shoes, the ones with the buckles."
Maureen was a wonderful and generous sister; Ann loved her fiercely, but at the same time, there was hardness to Maureen that troubled Ann sometimes. It was as if there was a shell around Maureen's heart, stiff and unyielding; every once in a while, Ann would forget it was there, take one too many steps and butt into it. So it was tonight.
"How do I look?"
The bright green material of the dress draped snugly across Maureen's hips and then fell in a smooth, straight waterfall of silk. The sleeves, cut in straight swaths from each shoulder gave Maureen the look of a Greek Goddess.
"You look like Aphrodite herself, Maureen." Ann said enviously. "I can barely stand to look at you!"
"I wanted to look my best tonight. I have something very important to tell John."
Maureen cocked her head to one side, setting her dangling moonstone and silver earrings softly jangling. She looked to be weighing something in her mind; seeing if Ann measured up.
"I should really tell you first, shouldn't I?" She said finally.
"Tell me what, Maureen?"
Maureen blew out a long breath. "I'm going to have a baby."
A fidgety, squirming silence filled the room.
"How can you be having a baby, you aren't married?" Ann blurted out.
"It happens sometimes, Annie. You don't have to be married to, well….to get pregnant." Maureen said loftily.
Ann grinned. "I'll be an aunt."
"Yes….yes I suppose you will be." A ghost of a smile played on Maureen's lips.
"Is John the father?"
"Yes. I am going to tell him tonight."
"Then he'll want to marry you and we will have a family." Ann said wondrously.
Maureen's smile nearly reached her eyes, but not quite. "Yes, that's what I am hoping, too, sweetie."
A sudden sharp knocking at the door elicited a gasp from Ann. Her hands flew to her mouth in excitement. "He's here!"
"If she gets a fever, give her this." The man thrust a brown paper package into Ann's hand. "If she bleeds, take her to the hospital."
"Aren't you going to take care of her?" Ann demanded.
"Hell no, you crazy?" The man lit a cigarette and flicked back a shock of greasy grey hair.
"But what if she gets sick?"
"That ain't my concern. I done what she asked me to do." The man drawled. "I ain't no doctor." He laughed harshly.
The door behind Ann opened, and an old woman came shuffling out. She carried a large steel bowl filled with bloody rags.
"Filthy tramp." The old woman muttered.
Ann caught her rheumy eyes. The woman dumped the bowl on the table. "You take a lesson from your sister. Keep your drawers on!"
"Maureen is not a tramp!" Ann said indignantly.
The man patted Ann's shoulder with mock sympathy. "Don't you worry about old Nana. She's just full piss an' vinegar."
Ann pulled away from the man's hand.
"Don't you touch me. Let me see my sister." Ann pushed past the man and marched through the door and into the hot, stuffy room.
Maureen lay on a mattress on the floor and flies were buzzing around her head. She weakly batted at them. Ann's mouth fell open. She rushed over to the makeshift bed and dropped down to her knees
"Maureen, are you OK?" Ann asked anxiously.
Maureen reached out and took Ann's hand. "I'll be all right." Maureen tried to sit up, but her face screwed up with pain and she moaned softly.
Ann put her arms around Maureen's shoulders and helped her into a sitting position. Ann's sister was shivering violently despite the heat.
"You aren't all right. We should go to the hospital. Oh, Maureen, you shouldn't have done this." Ann cried.
"No, Annie. What would we tell them? I would get into trouble with the law." Beads of sweat sprang out on Maureen's forehead. "No." She whispered hoarsely. "I'll be fine in a couple of days, and no worse for the wear; just wiser. No more wolves, you can be sure of that."
The man nudged the door open with his foot and casually reclined against the door frame. His eyes clapped onto Ann.
"You two need to get a move on. Got another customer in an hour. We agreed on fifty. Now where is it?" He took a long drag on his cigarette. "'less of course you want to trade. One service for another." He leered at Ann, his meaning perfectly clear.
"You said thirty!" Ann exclaimed.
The man let out a harsh laugh. "You think I'm runnin' a charity for stupid whores? Changed my mind. Its fifty, now."
Ann leapt to her feet and shook her finger under the man's nose. "You said thirty!"
"Annie!" Maureen cried out weakly, "Stop it."
The man moved quickly toward Ann, grabbed her arm and threw her roughly against the wall. One of his filthy, bloodstained hands pinned her to the wall and blew smoke into Ann's face; she coughed and turned away grimacing. He grabbed her chin and yanked Ann's face around.
"You're right pretty." He said menacingly.
Ann felt his rough hand moving up her blouse. She froze, her breath coming in terrified pants.
"The money's right here." Maureen gasped. "Please, leave my sister alone. There's seventy-two here."
The man turned around and considered the wad of bills Maureen had grasped in her shaking fist.
"Deal's a deal, I reckon." He released Ann. The man grinnd wickedly as he plucked the money out of Maureen's outstretched hand.
Ann rushed to Maureen's side. "Let's get out of here!" She reached down and pulled Maureen to her feet and pushed her towards the open door.
Ann sat in Papa's old overstuffed chair, the arm rests were slick with time and wear. Maureen had been sleeping fitfully on the sofa for several hours and Ann had stayed by her side, watching and waiting.
And praying.
That awful man said there could be a fever, and Ann was sure Maureen had one. Her face was hot and flushed. It reminded Ann of when Papa had been so sick with Influenza. Worry tangled her stomach.
Please, God.
Maureen's eyes fluttered open.
"Annie………" She croaked.
Ann cringed at the sound of Maureen's dry raspy voice.
"I'll get you some water, Maureen. You stay right there."
Ann bounced lightly to her feet and crossed the room quickly, fear fueling her footsteps. She grabbed a dirty coffee mug, rinsed it and began filling it with water, when she heard a loud crash behind her.
Ann turned around and saw Maureen standing in the middle of the room, the telephone table lying broken behind her; her face terrible and white. Ann gasped as she finally noticed the spreading pool of blood at Maureen's feet. Ann's eyes were crazily riveted to the gore, shocked that Maureen could still be upright. Did a person's body really hold that much blood?
Ann dashed to her sister's side, barely reaching her in time to catch her arm. Maureen collapsed to the floor, dragging Ann with her.
"Maureen!" Cried Ann shrilly. "Maureen!" Ann shook Maureen's shoulders. "Wake up," she wailed, "No! No! Maureen, wake up!"
Maureen's head lolled back, only the whites of her eyes showed. At that moment, Ann knew she was dead. Waves of terror swept over Ann. She buried her face in Maureen's red curls and screamed.