Manhattan, February 14, 1920, 9:00 PM
Nearly eight years later it was again dark and raining on the same spot from which Emily Dawson and Mary McBride fled. They feared some unknown horror, unaware that their own blood had been spilled somewhere deep in the North Atlantic.
As for the strange, lifeless girl that crossed their path.she returned a jaded, hard woman. She was still lost. After she stepped off Titanic she felt the greatest consequences would befall her here.and they would, only they would come years later. And they started on a quiet night when the rain was colder and her soul was wearing thin.
***
By my calculations I needed to be at around Pier 94 to be in the neighborhood of destination. I looked around through the dark and rain.
"Fifty four?! No, ninety-four! I want NINETY-FOUR not FIFTY-FOUR!" I hissed at the pier as if it was its fault and not my own. I was downtown when I very much wanted to be in Midtown. And then I paused for a moment. "Fifty four.Pier 54."
Things became to look very familiar, hauntingly familiar. Only this time I could return home without worrying about revisiting a life I had yearned for so long to be free of. This time home was a two bedroom, tastefully decorated, entirely comfortable L.A. apartment with a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean.
However, because I'm Rose I found myself standing in the cold and the rain on revisiting a time of unimaginable suffering in my young life that could inevitably trigger some shell shock-like symptoms if I did not leave soon.
On top of that it was Valentine's Day and I was alone after dumping my sweet, nearly under aged boyfriend while pining over my childhood best friend who I had I lied to about my not dying who left me crying on a hotel floor after ruthlessly sleeping with me and all the while slowly losing my grip on my entire credo which was also my promise to the first man I ever loved and wasn't quite sure if I had gotten over either and who was also the reason I was alive and not only alive but sane...much more neurotic since the War and everything else to boot, but sane.
And just to add the cherry on my disgusting sundae the rain had doused my last cigarette and my lighter was out of fluid. Maybe some place was open. Maybe I needed a stiff drink.
I'd miss my chances of finding an easy drink by a few months. That and I hadn't had a drop of alcohol in close to a year and I was trying to keep it that way. By the time the war ended I had finally seen too much. I took a real liking to drink after each fun, carefree day in Sunny California. I needed to wash away the rest of the darkness inside of me. I stopped when it became too much of a habit. Alcoholism was another secret and scandal of the DeWitt Bukater family; nearly everyone with a drop of Bukater blood was a silent boozer. But they were all dead now. The last surviving one went down on Titanic.
That's why she found a cup of coffee and a hotel instead.
***
The next morning I went about catching a train to Midtown North in search of a few acquaintances. It wasn't raining anymore but it was still dripping wet the sun was beginning to break through the clouds.
Coming up along Tenth Avenue I saw a store up ahead called IAndolini's Market./I I wondered if it was any relation to Sonny, Emily Dawson's boyfriend from four years ago. P Wow, had it really been four years since Columbus? I wished I were back there sometimes. It was the only time I'd felt long-term happiness since I was a little girl.
The hustle and bustle of the late morning blended in with everything. Even the screams of Mrs. Andolini seemed business as usual.
"SANTINO! Get off the produce!" she yelled in a thick accent. A young man of about twenty or so hopped off the oranges in front of the store.
"Alright, ma, I'm goin'! .Jesus Christ," he mumbled to himself.
I hustled up along street trying get to the kid on the oranges.
"Excuse me," I said, "Sonny?"
"Yeah." he turned around, "hey." he recognized from the train four years ago. "Rose, right? Rose.duh.duh." he snapped his fingers struggling to remember my last name.
"Dawson." I helped him.
"Christ, I shoulda remembered that one. I'm sorry. Here have an orange, but don't tell my ma." He tossed me one.
"Santino!" his mother called from within. I tossed him back the orange and he put it back.
"Alright, forget about the orange.so how you been? What brings you to New York?"
"I was in California for a while, then I was over in France, then the war ended."
"So I've heard.about the war ending and all."
"Yes, I think we won.anyway, then I went back to Los Angeles for a year, and now I'm here, just making my rounds.that and I'm an East Coast girl, couldn't stay away for too long."
"You want me to tell George you're here? I know youse guys is pretty good friends."
"Oh, sure!"
"He's at work right now. You can bother him."
"I don't think that's a good idea. He's still with the police department, right?"
"Yeah, but if he's in his office he's probably just yelling at people. He got promoted to Lieutenant. 18th Precinct."
"No kidding. Last time I saw him he was just a staff sergeant." I mused.
"Eh, I guess he's been with the police longer than he was the Army."
"Interesting."
"306 West 54th. I'll see you around for a while, then?"
"I'll be around a lot, Sonny." I shook his hand. I waved good-bye and turned around on a new thought. "Are you still with Emily?"
"Eh, sometimes." He adjusted his cap.
"Sometimes?" This could be interesting.
"We have a very interesting relationship."
"Which is?"
"I cheat on her, Calvert usually hurts me, then she dumps me, shuns me, I beg, we get back together and the cycle repeats. It's been that way for about a year now. One day I'll get it together and maybe marry her. But she's not Italian. My mother would shoot me." He looked around, pulling on his suspenders with his thumbs and rocking back on his heals.
"Sorry to hear that. But I like the whole repetitive, destructive cycle you've worked out. What's your status now?"
"Somewhere's between shunning and begging. So she's speaking to me and I'll settle for that."
"Well, you work on that Sonny." I was about to leave again.
"You know her dad died?" Sonny thought I should know.
"Her dad what?"
"Joe died. Uh, over the summer. He got cancer." He sighed and put his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry." I felt bad. I felt bad for Emily. I had never met the man, but I owed him a story I'd never get a chance to tell him. A morbid thought came into my head. What was with this family? They must have one of the shortest overall life expectancies.
***
"I'm looking for Calvert." I leaned over the front desk at the 18th Precinct. It was crowded and noisy. It was early afternoon and mid-week, it seemed like I was in the middle of zoo.
"He should be in his office." the Sergeant looked puzzled. It was the first time in a while a strange woman had gone looking for George. "Back that way to the right."
"Thank you." I walked down the hall gently pushing past people.
"No, he's not in!" said a cocky female voice on the door that said 'Lt. Calvert'. "Who am I? Do you know who your talking to?" I knocked on the door, fearing what I'd find on the other side. I couldn't see through the frosted glass. "Enter!" yelled the voice.
I opened the door to see a girl sitting behind George's desk. She was leaning back with her feet on the desk with the telephone in one hand and twirling a pencil in the other. She continued to frustrate the person on the other end while clicking double tone heels together.
She barely looked up at me for the first fifteen seconds. Her cigarette was resting in an ashtray and was nearly burned to the other end. The smoke filled the room. She hung up the phone and looked at me.
It was none other than the infamous Emily Dawson.
"Rose Dawson!" She swung her legs off the desk to get up. "Christ, I haven't seen you in four years.wait a minute," she paused, "I only met you that once didn't I?"
"Just the once." I said.
"Aw, hell. Nice to see you again. What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to be in Manhattan again." The phone rang and Emily picked up.
"Dawson." she answered.
"I told you not to answer my phone like that! It's not 'Dawson's' office!" yelled the voice on the telephone.
"Where are you? You have a visitor."
"I'm at the front desk."
Emily looked at the receiver distastefully. And hung it up. He was testing her again.
"Shouldn't you be at Joe's?" George burst in. He was better shaven than I was used to seeing him. Clean-shaven, healthy, smelled very nice, too, but I tried to ignore that. It had been over a year and we weren't at war anymore. And he said 'Joe's'.I was confused. I'd just learned Joe was dead.
"I'm open seven days a week full days. I'm understaffed and my main source of revenue is illegal. I took a day off. Which as the proprietress I can do. Believe or not you're not the only one that experiences stress. I'm thinking of closing Wednesdays as something permanent."
"Do what you want, but don't obnoxiously answer my line, Dawson. You don't work here."
"Correction: I don't get paid here. I reorganized your file cabinet by the way, bloody mess. Visitor." She pointed to me. George whipped around very irritated and stopped on a dime.
"Rose? Rose Dawson?"
"For better or for worse." I smirked, "uh, Sonny directed me here. I saw him outside Andolini's." I said.
"Oh, wow. I'm sorry. How's California?"
"Sunny and gorgeous, but glad to be back in the Northeast."
"Glad to have to you back.And nothing's gone wrong yet."
"What do you mean 'nothing's gone wrong yet'?"
"I mean, when I bump into you either you're lying in the street, there are train robbers, or kraut artillery popping over our heads. You never come when there's good news."
"Firstly, thanks for the compliment, dear friend, and secondly, I've only been hear a few hours." I hugged him. "Good to see you." I laughed. He gave me a couple pats on the back and released me.
"Good to see you, too. How long are you in town for?" He held me out in front of him still holding my arms.
"Until the summer hopefully.if I can find a good place.then I've got a lucrative contract drawing me back to Los Angeles in July."
"On your way to becoming a star?" He sat on his desk.
"Hopefully not. Just getting to do a really fun job and take home a large paycheck and it makes me very happy."
"Speaking of money and places to stay." Emily piped up, "if you're willing to split a modest rent for a Ninth Avenue penthouse with a sort of Baroque period mystique.there's an opening." She had moved back to her original position.
"Looking for a roommate?" I asked.
"I'm in the market." She put her hands behind her head.
"I could be persuaded."
"Then I should warn you it's a little less Baroque penthouse and a little more congested immigrant tenement house, but the lights and water always work I swear to God." She waited for a moment. ".Scout's Honor." She held up her two fingers.
"Alright I'm game. I've got to move my things from a hotel downtown but I'll move in whenever you want." P "Whenever's frigging peaches and cream." And she said that without a hint of malice. The last time someone used a similar phrase to me they were really unhappy with the last thing I just said.
But I kicked myself. Why was I moving in with Emily Dawson? It was so hypocritical of me to just waltz in saying I was coming to New York because I felt like it and moving in with her just because she offered it. I had planned this for a while.I just never thought I'd be living with her. Besides, she was a little crazy.in a fun way, but the girl was absolutely crazy.
That and I happily volunteered to kick back my feet and live in Hell's Kitchen after living the sweet life in L.A. Hell's Kitchen.I'd come to really learn the meaning of that very soon.
"How about I get my things, bring them over today, and you people want to meet for dinner?"
"Come to Joe's." Emily promoted.
"I thought you were closed today?" asked George.
"Well, now I'm opening it just for us. I'll bring a few more people. I'll get in the kitchen myself." She turned to me. "We can go someplace else, it's just simple stuff really. You're first day, you choose."
"Joe's is fine."
"Great. 299 West 53rd Street. Stop by when you get your stuff." Em got up again and grabbed her purse. "And I thought today would be boring." She rapped George on the back. "I'll go get everything ready.bye!" And with that she flew out.
George and I were left to our own devices. I hadn't seen him since the night with Holden. I knew he knew. Holden and George were not only friends, but also friends in combat; essentially they were closer than brothers. God, he probably knew *details*. I inwardly cringed.
"Uh, sorry about before.with all the ranting and raving." he scratched the back of his neck. "Junior gets a little out of hand sometimes, especially since." he stopped, "did you hear about Joe?"
"Yes, from Sonny a few hours ago."
"Shame." George lowered his head. Joe was a friend.
***
May 1919
Joe Dawson had been sitting in the free clinic for hours. He'd been having terrible pains in his stomach for months now and he was here to visit the same damn doctor who kept telling him had bad indigestion. He collapsed the other day in his bar. And Emily insisted he go back.
He knew if he was turned away again his teenage daughter would be back in there yelling and screaming. She was already turning into her mother.
Maggie.Joe didn't think he'd get back on his feet after she died. When he started seeing other women a year or so later Emily didn't take it well. But after a while she warmed up to some of them and she was always helping him get ready and look sharp for dates.
Despite everything, the horrible death of his brother and sister-in-law, the disappearance of his nephew, the death of his wife: one day she wasn't feeling well and had to lie down, five days later she was dead, and Mary. He knew Mary when she was just a girl.she was like a daughter to him. He and Maggie, her many times removed cousins, treated her more like their own then her mother and father. .And to die like that.and so young. And what about young Tobey Jackson.hearing of his demise? He was just down the road when he was born.
Despite everything he and Emily became a great father/daughter team. They worked together to open the bar, aptly named Joe's, and made the official grand opening on Christmas Eve 1916.
Since the beginning of the year they were working on a new project, after the 18th amendment they were slowly transitioning Joe's to be dry and George was always there to help.Sonny was sometimes there to help.
But this stomach thing just wouldn't leave him alone. It was getting to be unbearable. Dr. Gordon finally sauntered in. It was about time.
They went through the same usual routine and Joe was very anxious to get some real tests done.
"Well, I don't know why you want all this stuff done, Joe."
"Something's been wrong for a while."
"Joe Dawson," said the doc, "great name for something." Joe rolled his eyes, "like a story character.or no wait, a ball player! Joe Dawson.what a great name for a ball player!"
"Tell me if you find anything, doc." Joe hopped off the bench, anxious to get home, ignoring his doctor's career prescriptions.
"Will do.Joe Dawson!" Joe walked out and closed the door, "shoulda been a ball player!" He heard on his way out.
A week later he was informed that he had a tumor the size of a grapefruit and there was nothing he could do.
*The size of a grapefruit* he lamented, looking in the mirror at his own pale face. How could it be? He didn't know how he was going to tell Emily.
He told George first and then told her with him in the room. He was like family to both of them. When they told her she didn't cry. She didn't say anything. She just walked back into her room and closed the door. She didn't start reacting for a month or so. She had lost too much.
He died that August.
***
I went back downtown to fetch my stuff and I rode the train back up to Midtown again. By the time I stopped in front of Joe's it was only seven and I just wanted to sleep.
"Got your stuff?" Emily peered out.
"Yes I do." I placed two large suitcases and two duffle bags.
"You carried all that from the station?"
I just shrugged. I was pretty good at dragging around baggage.
"Let's go," she picked up one of my duffles, "I've got an extra bedroom and my own john, I'll give you a quick look around, but the real baby is Joe's. I'll show you around when we get back.Jesus!" she sighed picking up my suitcase, "one, you really need all this God damn crap? And two how in the hell did you carry FOUR of these, 'cause I'm God damn strong."
"Want me to get that?" I never traveled light and was never going to.
"Never." She grinned. The old Dawson perseverance shone through in even the most unnecessary of situations. God knows she would need it for the dinner that night. It was going to be.interesting.
Nearly eight years later it was again dark and raining on the same spot from which Emily Dawson and Mary McBride fled. They feared some unknown horror, unaware that their own blood had been spilled somewhere deep in the North Atlantic.
As for the strange, lifeless girl that crossed their path.she returned a jaded, hard woman. She was still lost. After she stepped off Titanic she felt the greatest consequences would befall her here.and they would, only they would come years later. And they started on a quiet night when the rain was colder and her soul was wearing thin.
***
By my calculations I needed to be at around Pier 94 to be in the neighborhood of destination. I looked around through the dark and rain.
"Fifty four?! No, ninety-four! I want NINETY-FOUR not FIFTY-FOUR!" I hissed at the pier as if it was its fault and not my own. I was downtown when I very much wanted to be in Midtown. And then I paused for a moment. "Fifty four.Pier 54."
Things became to look very familiar, hauntingly familiar. Only this time I could return home without worrying about revisiting a life I had yearned for so long to be free of. This time home was a two bedroom, tastefully decorated, entirely comfortable L.A. apartment with a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean.
However, because I'm Rose I found myself standing in the cold and the rain on revisiting a time of unimaginable suffering in my young life that could inevitably trigger some shell shock-like symptoms if I did not leave soon.
On top of that it was Valentine's Day and I was alone after dumping my sweet, nearly under aged boyfriend while pining over my childhood best friend who I had I lied to about my not dying who left me crying on a hotel floor after ruthlessly sleeping with me and all the while slowly losing my grip on my entire credo which was also my promise to the first man I ever loved and wasn't quite sure if I had gotten over either and who was also the reason I was alive and not only alive but sane...much more neurotic since the War and everything else to boot, but sane.
And just to add the cherry on my disgusting sundae the rain had doused my last cigarette and my lighter was out of fluid. Maybe some place was open. Maybe I needed a stiff drink.
I'd miss my chances of finding an easy drink by a few months. That and I hadn't had a drop of alcohol in close to a year and I was trying to keep it that way. By the time the war ended I had finally seen too much. I took a real liking to drink after each fun, carefree day in Sunny California. I needed to wash away the rest of the darkness inside of me. I stopped when it became too much of a habit. Alcoholism was another secret and scandal of the DeWitt Bukater family; nearly everyone with a drop of Bukater blood was a silent boozer. But they were all dead now. The last surviving one went down on Titanic.
That's why she found a cup of coffee and a hotel instead.
***
The next morning I went about catching a train to Midtown North in search of a few acquaintances. It wasn't raining anymore but it was still dripping wet the sun was beginning to break through the clouds.
Coming up along Tenth Avenue I saw a store up ahead called IAndolini's Market./I I wondered if it was any relation to Sonny, Emily Dawson's boyfriend from four years ago. P Wow, had it really been four years since Columbus? I wished I were back there sometimes. It was the only time I'd felt long-term happiness since I was a little girl.
The hustle and bustle of the late morning blended in with everything. Even the screams of Mrs. Andolini seemed business as usual.
"SANTINO! Get off the produce!" she yelled in a thick accent. A young man of about twenty or so hopped off the oranges in front of the store.
"Alright, ma, I'm goin'! .Jesus Christ," he mumbled to himself.
I hustled up along street trying get to the kid on the oranges.
"Excuse me," I said, "Sonny?"
"Yeah." he turned around, "hey." he recognized from the train four years ago. "Rose, right? Rose.duh.duh." he snapped his fingers struggling to remember my last name.
"Dawson." I helped him.
"Christ, I shoulda remembered that one. I'm sorry. Here have an orange, but don't tell my ma." He tossed me one.
"Santino!" his mother called from within. I tossed him back the orange and he put it back.
"Alright, forget about the orange.so how you been? What brings you to New York?"
"I was in California for a while, then I was over in France, then the war ended."
"So I've heard.about the war ending and all."
"Yes, I think we won.anyway, then I went back to Los Angeles for a year, and now I'm here, just making my rounds.that and I'm an East Coast girl, couldn't stay away for too long."
"You want me to tell George you're here? I know youse guys is pretty good friends."
"Oh, sure!"
"He's at work right now. You can bother him."
"I don't think that's a good idea. He's still with the police department, right?"
"Yeah, but if he's in his office he's probably just yelling at people. He got promoted to Lieutenant. 18th Precinct."
"No kidding. Last time I saw him he was just a staff sergeant." I mused.
"Eh, I guess he's been with the police longer than he was the Army."
"Interesting."
"306 West 54th. I'll see you around for a while, then?"
"I'll be around a lot, Sonny." I shook his hand. I waved good-bye and turned around on a new thought. "Are you still with Emily?"
"Eh, sometimes." He adjusted his cap.
"Sometimes?" This could be interesting.
"We have a very interesting relationship."
"Which is?"
"I cheat on her, Calvert usually hurts me, then she dumps me, shuns me, I beg, we get back together and the cycle repeats. It's been that way for about a year now. One day I'll get it together and maybe marry her. But she's not Italian. My mother would shoot me." He looked around, pulling on his suspenders with his thumbs and rocking back on his heals.
"Sorry to hear that. But I like the whole repetitive, destructive cycle you've worked out. What's your status now?"
"Somewhere's between shunning and begging. So she's speaking to me and I'll settle for that."
"Well, you work on that Sonny." I was about to leave again.
"You know her dad died?" Sonny thought I should know.
"Her dad what?"
"Joe died. Uh, over the summer. He got cancer." He sighed and put his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry." I felt bad. I felt bad for Emily. I had never met the man, but I owed him a story I'd never get a chance to tell him. A morbid thought came into my head. What was with this family? They must have one of the shortest overall life expectancies.
***
"I'm looking for Calvert." I leaned over the front desk at the 18th Precinct. It was crowded and noisy. It was early afternoon and mid-week, it seemed like I was in the middle of zoo.
"He should be in his office." the Sergeant looked puzzled. It was the first time in a while a strange woman had gone looking for George. "Back that way to the right."
"Thank you." I walked down the hall gently pushing past people.
"No, he's not in!" said a cocky female voice on the door that said 'Lt. Calvert'. "Who am I? Do you know who your talking to?" I knocked on the door, fearing what I'd find on the other side. I couldn't see through the frosted glass. "Enter!" yelled the voice.
I opened the door to see a girl sitting behind George's desk. She was leaning back with her feet on the desk with the telephone in one hand and twirling a pencil in the other. She continued to frustrate the person on the other end while clicking double tone heels together.
She barely looked up at me for the first fifteen seconds. Her cigarette was resting in an ashtray and was nearly burned to the other end. The smoke filled the room. She hung up the phone and looked at me.
It was none other than the infamous Emily Dawson.
"Rose Dawson!" She swung her legs off the desk to get up. "Christ, I haven't seen you in four years.wait a minute," she paused, "I only met you that once didn't I?"
"Just the once." I said.
"Aw, hell. Nice to see you again. What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to be in Manhattan again." The phone rang and Emily picked up.
"Dawson." she answered.
"I told you not to answer my phone like that! It's not 'Dawson's' office!" yelled the voice on the telephone.
"Where are you? You have a visitor."
"I'm at the front desk."
Emily looked at the receiver distastefully. And hung it up. He was testing her again.
"Shouldn't you be at Joe's?" George burst in. He was better shaven than I was used to seeing him. Clean-shaven, healthy, smelled very nice, too, but I tried to ignore that. It had been over a year and we weren't at war anymore. And he said 'Joe's'.I was confused. I'd just learned Joe was dead.
"I'm open seven days a week full days. I'm understaffed and my main source of revenue is illegal. I took a day off. Which as the proprietress I can do. Believe or not you're not the only one that experiences stress. I'm thinking of closing Wednesdays as something permanent."
"Do what you want, but don't obnoxiously answer my line, Dawson. You don't work here."
"Correction: I don't get paid here. I reorganized your file cabinet by the way, bloody mess. Visitor." She pointed to me. George whipped around very irritated and stopped on a dime.
"Rose? Rose Dawson?"
"For better or for worse." I smirked, "uh, Sonny directed me here. I saw him outside Andolini's." I said.
"Oh, wow. I'm sorry. How's California?"
"Sunny and gorgeous, but glad to be back in the Northeast."
"Glad to have to you back.And nothing's gone wrong yet."
"What do you mean 'nothing's gone wrong yet'?"
"I mean, when I bump into you either you're lying in the street, there are train robbers, or kraut artillery popping over our heads. You never come when there's good news."
"Firstly, thanks for the compliment, dear friend, and secondly, I've only been hear a few hours." I hugged him. "Good to see you." I laughed. He gave me a couple pats on the back and released me.
"Good to see you, too. How long are you in town for?" He held me out in front of him still holding my arms.
"Until the summer hopefully.if I can find a good place.then I've got a lucrative contract drawing me back to Los Angeles in July."
"On your way to becoming a star?" He sat on his desk.
"Hopefully not. Just getting to do a really fun job and take home a large paycheck and it makes me very happy."
"Speaking of money and places to stay." Emily piped up, "if you're willing to split a modest rent for a Ninth Avenue penthouse with a sort of Baroque period mystique.there's an opening." She had moved back to her original position.
"Looking for a roommate?" I asked.
"I'm in the market." She put her hands behind her head.
"I could be persuaded."
"Then I should warn you it's a little less Baroque penthouse and a little more congested immigrant tenement house, but the lights and water always work I swear to God." She waited for a moment. ".Scout's Honor." She held up her two fingers.
"Alright I'm game. I've got to move my things from a hotel downtown but I'll move in whenever you want." P "Whenever's frigging peaches and cream." And she said that without a hint of malice. The last time someone used a similar phrase to me they were really unhappy with the last thing I just said.
But I kicked myself. Why was I moving in with Emily Dawson? It was so hypocritical of me to just waltz in saying I was coming to New York because I felt like it and moving in with her just because she offered it. I had planned this for a while.I just never thought I'd be living with her. Besides, she was a little crazy.in a fun way, but the girl was absolutely crazy.
That and I happily volunteered to kick back my feet and live in Hell's Kitchen after living the sweet life in L.A. Hell's Kitchen.I'd come to really learn the meaning of that very soon.
"How about I get my things, bring them over today, and you people want to meet for dinner?"
"Come to Joe's." Emily promoted.
"I thought you were closed today?" asked George.
"Well, now I'm opening it just for us. I'll bring a few more people. I'll get in the kitchen myself." She turned to me. "We can go someplace else, it's just simple stuff really. You're first day, you choose."
"Joe's is fine."
"Great. 299 West 53rd Street. Stop by when you get your stuff." Em got up again and grabbed her purse. "And I thought today would be boring." She rapped George on the back. "I'll go get everything ready.bye!" And with that she flew out.
George and I were left to our own devices. I hadn't seen him since the night with Holden. I knew he knew. Holden and George were not only friends, but also friends in combat; essentially they were closer than brothers. God, he probably knew *details*. I inwardly cringed.
"Uh, sorry about before.with all the ranting and raving." he scratched the back of his neck. "Junior gets a little out of hand sometimes, especially since." he stopped, "did you hear about Joe?"
"Yes, from Sonny a few hours ago."
"Shame." George lowered his head. Joe was a friend.
***
May 1919
Joe Dawson had been sitting in the free clinic for hours. He'd been having terrible pains in his stomach for months now and he was here to visit the same damn doctor who kept telling him had bad indigestion. He collapsed the other day in his bar. And Emily insisted he go back.
He knew if he was turned away again his teenage daughter would be back in there yelling and screaming. She was already turning into her mother.
Maggie.Joe didn't think he'd get back on his feet after she died. When he started seeing other women a year or so later Emily didn't take it well. But after a while she warmed up to some of them and she was always helping him get ready and look sharp for dates.
Despite everything, the horrible death of his brother and sister-in-law, the disappearance of his nephew, the death of his wife: one day she wasn't feeling well and had to lie down, five days later she was dead, and Mary. He knew Mary when she was just a girl.she was like a daughter to him. He and Maggie, her many times removed cousins, treated her more like their own then her mother and father. .And to die like that.and so young. And what about young Tobey Jackson.hearing of his demise? He was just down the road when he was born.
Despite everything he and Emily became a great father/daughter team. They worked together to open the bar, aptly named Joe's, and made the official grand opening on Christmas Eve 1916.
Since the beginning of the year they were working on a new project, after the 18th amendment they were slowly transitioning Joe's to be dry and George was always there to help.Sonny was sometimes there to help.
But this stomach thing just wouldn't leave him alone. It was getting to be unbearable. Dr. Gordon finally sauntered in. It was about time.
They went through the same usual routine and Joe was very anxious to get some real tests done.
"Well, I don't know why you want all this stuff done, Joe."
"Something's been wrong for a while."
"Joe Dawson," said the doc, "great name for something." Joe rolled his eyes, "like a story character.or no wait, a ball player! Joe Dawson.what a great name for a ball player!"
"Tell me if you find anything, doc." Joe hopped off the bench, anxious to get home, ignoring his doctor's career prescriptions.
"Will do.Joe Dawson!" Joe walked out and closed the door, "shoulda been a ball player!" He heard on his way out.
A week later he was informed that he had a tumor the size of a grapefruit and there was nothing he could do.
*The size of a grapefruit* he lamented, looking in the mirror at his own pale face. How could it be? He didn't know how he was going to tell Emily.
He told George first and then told her with him in the room. He was like family to both of them. When they told her she didn't cry. She didn't say anything. She just walked back into her room and closed the door. She didn't start reacting for a month or so. She had lost too much.
He died that August.
***
I went back downtown to fetch my stuff and I rode the train back up to Midtown again. By the time I stopped in front of Joe's it was only seven and I just wanted to sleep.
"Got your stuff?" Emily peered out.
"Yes I do." I placed two large suitcases and two duffle bags.
"You carried all that from the station?"
I just shrugged. I was pretty good at dragging around baggage.
"Let's go," she picked up one of my duffles, "I've got an extra bedroom and my own john, I'll give you a quick look around, but the real baby is Joe's. I'll show you around when we get back.Jesus!" she sighed picking up my suitcase, "one, you really need all this God damn crap? And two how in the hell did you carry FOUR of these, 'cause I'm God damn strong."
"Want me to get that?" I never traveled light and was never going to.
"Never." She grinned. The old Dawson perseverance shone through in even the most unnecessary of situations. God knows she would need it for the dinner that night. It was going to be.interesting.