Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 74: Drawing the Line
"You ought to wear the blue one, Sadie," Margaret suggested. "Mauve may be in vogue, but it really isn't your color."
Sadie gave the articles of clothing in question a final appraising look before making her decision, settling on the blue day jacket that Margaret favored and laying the plum-colored coat aside. She'd received the latter as a birthday gift and had been waiting for an occasion to wear it, but she had to agree with Margaret; the blue coat suited her much better. It wasn't new, but it was smartly-tailored and dyed a lovely shade of indigo that somehow spanned the seasons with just enough color to make it suitable for the fall but not such much vibrancy that it couldn't also be tasteful later in the year when the weather turned cooler.
"Would you like to wear the mauve one, Megs?" Sadie offered, holding out the coat to her friend. "We're practically the same size in jackets, though I'm sorry to say the matching skirt will likely be too short for you."
Margaret looked tempted, but she shook her head. "Perhaps for another occasion," she deferred.
"Like your date with James on Friday?" Sadie raised an eyebrow as she smiled at her friend.
Margaret shrugged. "We're only going to Central Park and then to Frankel's for lunch. I'm not sure I'll need to dress so nicely. It's not as though we're going someplace fancy like the theater. Now that's an occasion worth dressing up for, though I have to say it's a bit extravagant for a first date."
"This isn't a date, Margaret." Sadie donned the blue day jacket, scrutinizing her appearance in the mirror as she did so.
"What do you call it, then?"
"An outing."
"With a boy you only just met last week and spoke to for all of ten minutes? He must be quite taken with you, or he wouldn't have bothered to press for a second engagement, let alone an engagement to a place as extravagant as the theater!"
"Ruben's merely being polite, Megs," Sadie insisted, setting her hat in place and beginning to carefully pin it. "I'm sure he's only doing this out of courtesy since I invited him and Rachel to the birthday party last week. She's coming this afternoon as well, and I'm looking forward to seeing both of them again."
"It does seem odd that he'd take his sister along and invite you to bring a friend," Margaret mused. "One would think that the extra company would interfere with his intent to get to know you better."
"Which is precisely why I maintain that this is courtesy and nothing more." Sadie pushed the last pin into place. "I hope you'll simply come along and enjoy yourself this afternoon, Megs; you won't be able to take in the performance if you're too busy trying to drum up a romantic inclination that isn't there." Checking her reflection in the mirror one last time, she turned to face her friend.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked. "Ruben and Rachel should be along at any minute."
The other girl nodded. "Will they be coming up to say hello to everyone, or should we wait downstairs?"
"They'll meet us here," Sadie answered, "but I'm not sure they'll get to meet everyone. Papa's probably busy right now; it's window-washing day."
"A duty you must be relieved to be excused from!" Margaret observed as they left the bedroom and headed towards the common area of the Becker apartment. "I can't imagine how wearisome that would be!"
"It is messy and tiring work," Sadie agreed. "And it's not for the short of stature, which makes me quite ill-suited for the job. I can't say that I miss it, or that I'm sorry to be heading to the theater instead."
"You can thank Ruben for his timely intervention, then," Margaret smirked. "It's rather lovely of him to rescue you from the drudgery of tenement chores and whisk you away on an outing instead."
"The last time I checked, we were both benefiting from his invitation."
"He invited you. I'm only coming along because he offered to let you bring a friend."
"And I'm starting to regret my choice in companions!" Sadie gave the other girl a pointed look. "If you're going to insist on teasing me, Megs, I won't be inviting you again."
"Does that mean there will be a next time?" came the other girl's jesting response.
Sadie only huffed in reply and refused to dignify the query with an answer.
The bucket of grimy water jostled against Davey's leg, sloshing onto his pants as he attempted to carry it downstairs as carefully as he could without letting it splash any further. He'd finished cleaning the windows on the first and second floors, but it had been slow going, as he'd regularly had to break from his work to empty the bucket downstairs and refill it with fresh water from the washroom.
Making his way over to the backyard of the tenement, Davey poured out the dirty water, then filled up the bucket again in the washroom, rinsing out the rag he'd been using to clean the windows while he waited for the bucket to fill. He now had the third floor windows to deal with - they were the same size as the rest, but would take the longest to finish because his downstairs trips to empty the bucket would require more time due to the additional distance.
It had been a busy afternoon. After his brief meeting with Mr. Becker, he'd started out clearing away some refuse that had been dumped in front of the tenement by some passersby, and then there had been the walkways to sweep and the dustbins to empty and finally the windows to wash. His clothes were soiled and damp where the dirty water had splashed on them, and he was tired and sorely in need of a bath, but it was satisfying to be able to check several tasks off of his list and to know that once he finished his final assignment for the day he'd have his earnings to take home for his trouble.
Reaching the third floor landing, he carefully carried the bucket over to the furthest window, then set it down, scooping up the wash rag and wringing it out before he began cleaning away the dirt on the glass surface, working from the top towards the bottom. He had just knelt down to begin scrubbing at the lower half of the window when the door of the Becker apartment opened down the hall, and Sadie emerged, followed by Margaret, Ruben and Rachel.
So, Ruben had made good on his plans to take Sadie out to see a show. He'd mentioned it a second time to Davey a few nights ago when the Liebermans and the Jacobses had dined together, but he hadn't given many details, so Davey hadn't been expecting to see him, though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; Ruben was generally the kind to follow through on his intent whenever a girl was involved. If Sadie had made enough of an impression for the businessman's son to not only take notice but to remember her several days afterwards, it made sense that he would take steps to connect with her - at least in a cursory manner - before leaving town.
The little group was in good spirits, talking and laughing and clearly excited to be off to their destination, and they probably would have missed seeing Davey altogether, as he was several doors down on the opposite end of the hallway, but Margaret happened to catch sight of him and raised her hand in greeting.
"Hello, David," she said politely, and to his dismay, the rest of the group turned to look in his direction. He generally didn't like being the subject of perusal, but it was particularly awkward when he was kneeling on the floor in his dirty clothes in front of his well-coiffed and fashionably-attired peers.
"You sell papers and wash windows?" Ruben asked, sounding repulsed by the thought. "Don't tell me you clean chimneys, too!"
"Davey is invaluable to our family," Sadie interjected. Both boys looked at her in surprise, and she smiled sweetly at them before addressing Ruben. "This property requires a great deal of upkeep, as you can imagine. We'd be quite overtaxed if it wasn't for his help."
Her words were lighthearted, but there was an edge behind them, too.
"Well!" Ruben laughed, looking a little nonplussed, "I never knew that David had such a knack for manual labor! But I should have guessed; he's a man of many talents. In any case..." he checked his pocket watch, "we ought to be heading along to the theater. The carriage ride should only take about a quarter of an hour, but we'll be able to avoid the crush of people better if we aren't late." He gestured towards the stairs. "Shall we?"
Rachel and Margaret bid Davey goodbye and started towards the steps, and Ruben was about to offer Sadie his arm to follow them when she said quickly, "I'm sorry, I just remembered that I'd forgotten something." She gave him an apologetic look. "Please don't let me hold you up. I'll be down in a minute."
Ruben was clearly caught off guard again, but he nodded agreeably enough, then gave Davey a wave of farewell before following the other two girls down the stairs.
Sadie, surprisingly, did not move towards her family's apartment, but instead drew closer, her expression troubled.
"Davey..." she said quietly, "I'm sorry we didn't think about asking you to come along with us on our outing. I should have spoken to Ruben about it. When he invited me to bring a friend, I immediately thought of Megs because she loves the theater, but there's no reason why we couldn't have all gone together. It was unkind of us - me in particular - to overlook you."
Her consternation caught Davey off guard, but her concern that he might have felt excluded was touching, and he found himself hastily trying to reassure her.
"Don't feel bad," he said, offering her a smile. "I wasn't offended, and it wouldn't have worked out anyway."
"But it could have!" she insisted. "If you'd only known beforehand, you could have asked Papa to put this project off until some other time, and then you could have come along!"
She was clearly set on persisting with the idea, and Davey wasn't sure if it was more impolite to simply concede the issue and allow her to take the blame or to actually explain to her why it was not, in fact, possible for him to join their little group, but in the end, honesty won out, and he found himself saying gently, "I need the money from this project, Sadie. My family needs it. I can't afford to not be working right now." He didn't add that he wouldn't have been able to cover the cost of a ticket, another factor that would have precluded his participation anyway.
Sadie looked even more abashed than before at his disclosure, and he almost regretted the decision to speak frankly, but before he had time to second-guess it, she spoke up.
"Of course...I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean…" she trailed off, biting her lip for a moment before she gathered herself and continued, "I only meant to express that your company would have been welcomed if you had been able to join us."
The clarification was accompanied by a slight blush, and as she stood there in her smartly-tailored clothes and stylish hat, distressed over her perceived slight that really hadn't been a slight at all, Davey found himself quickly trying to find a way to assuage her unease. He didn't want her afternoon to be ruined on his account; she ought to be enjoying herself with the rest of her party instead of lingering there with him.
But how to go about making her smile again?
Levity didn't come naturally to him, but it did to Sadie, and some lighthearted humor would likely restore her spirits, so Davey found himself pushing past his inherent gravity, some stubborn part of him determined to coax a smile out of her even if he had to go out on a limb to do so.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Sadie," he heard himself saying. "Really, I do. But I think in this case the offense might be grievous enough where mere words won't make up for the snub."
She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes widening in concern. "What do you mean?" she asked timidly.
"Do you remember what happened when I had to cancel a tutoring session with you to go to Brooklyn?" Davey asked, trying his best to keep a straight face. "You told me that I was in your debt, and that I would have to make it up to you by doing something ridiculous. So now I think it's only fair that you make up for not inviting me to the theater by doing something sensible." He finally allowed himself to grin, adding quickly, "I'll make sure it's only moderately sensible, though - fair's fair, after all."
"I'm afraid to find out what that might entail!" Sadie exclaimed, clearly relieved that he was not actually upset at her. "But I suppose I can't protest - my infraction was rather unforgivable."
"No more unforgivable than me having to go to Brooklyn," Davey remonstrated, wanting her to know that he really didn't mind. "But I'll hold you to it." He gave her another small but teasing smirk. "I know you're generally a step ahead of me, Sadie...but I think I might have just won this round."
"I think you're right!" she agreed. "Expect to be invited along to every spontaneous outing I participate in, now. I've certainly learned my lesson not to exclude you again, and I humbly concede defeat." A smile graced her features, and Davey silently congratulated himself for having accomplished his goal.
"I'd better let you go," he said quickly, realizing that several minutes had passed. "They'll be looking for you." He suddenly remembered the reason she had given to stay behind, and added, "You have to stop by the apartment too, don't you? To pick up whatever it was you forgot?"
Sadie laughed, giving him a knowing look, and comprehension suddenly dawned upon Davey as he realized that she hadn't forgotten anything at all.
"But...what if they ask you about it?" he queried, still trying to get over his astonishment that she'd stayed behind just to talk to him.
"I'm sure they'll be far too polite to pry," Sadie shrugged. "And if they do take the liberty to question me, I'm confident that I'll be able to come up with a plausible cover for my absence."
He couldn't help but smile at her cheeky grin. "You shouldn't lie to them, Chare."
"Oh, I won't lie." She started towards the stairs. "I'll simply, as you newsboys say, 'improve the truth' a little." And with a wink over her shoulder, she hurried down the steps and was gone.
Davey turned back to his work, slowly dipping the rag into the bucket of water and wringing out the excess, but instead of putting the cloth immediately to the windowpane, he paused for a moment, trying to process everything that had just taken place. The entire incident had happened so quickly that he hadn't really had time to register how he'd felt about any of it, but now that he was alone, he found himself confronted by a welter of deferred emotions.
He'd been completely caught off guard by Ruben's unexpected jab, though as he considered it more, he realized that he shouldn't have been surprised. When they'd been friends in Brooklyn, their families had shared a similar socioeconomic status, Mayer having held a relatively well-paying job at the time and Ruben's father being just a year or two shy of his economic breakthrough. The Jacobs brothers and the Lieberman siblings had gone to the same school, lived in the same neighborhood, and shared the same way of life, a life that wasn't extravagant, but was more or less comfortable on the whole.
But after that, circumstances had pulled them in different directions. Mayer's job had necessitated a relocation to Queens, so the Jacobses had pulled up stakes while the Liebermans had remained in Brooklyn. A string of unfortunate events had required several more moves after that, with Mayer's job situation becoming less and less profitable and less and less stable until it was finally curtailed altogether by the accident that had occured only months ago. Meanwhile, Gabriel Lieberman had shrewdly plied his trade while engaging in several savvy business deals that had resulted in a sizable windfall for his family, a windfall that they were currently enjoying to the fullest.
This disparity was probably what had made Ruben scoff at the thought of his childhood friend engaging in manual labor - the Jacobses had never been well-off, but Davey and Les had never had to work regular jobs before, their parents preferring for them to focus on their studies and stay in school. It would have been a bit shocking - especially given the upscale standard of living that Ruben had become used to since then - to see his childhood friend covered in dirt and down on his knees washing the grime off of windows. The surprised and disdainful reaction was, for this reason, completely understandable...
But it had stung.
Ain't no crime bein' poor, Jack's words echoed in Davey's head. He knew that it was the truth - and he knew that there was no reason to feel ashamed of doing honest work, even if that work wasn't considered respectable in certain circles. He was thankful to have a job, thankful to have a steady stream of projects to keep him employed, and thankful to be making enough money to help his family survive.
But sometimes he did miss his life as a student when his schoolwork could take priority and his days could be filled with trying to wrap his mind around what he was learning, not frantically figuring out whether his income would be enough to cover groceries for that week. He missed the days when his hands were smudged with pencil marks and chalk, not stained with newsprint or soiled with dirt. He missed being able to linger with his friends after school instead of rushing off to his job and working from morning 'till night. He missed being able to devote hours of his day to reading. And a slightly selfish part of him missed being able to walk by the newsboys on the street, lost in his own world and his own thoughts, instead of being one of those newsboys whose cries filled the air as they peddled their papers, desperation disguised in dramatics, hunger-pangs hidden in headlines, survival tied up in selling story after story, their tactics amounting to what felt like only a step above begging at times.
Davey wouldn't have traded the friendships he'd found with the newsies for anything. But sometimes he wished that he didn't have to be one of them. Not because he was ashamed of them or of what they did; if anything, he understood and appreciated it better now than he ever had before. But because he missed his old life, when things had been relatively orderly, neat, and simple. He'd adjusted to his new role and his new responsibilities because he'd had to - there had been no other option. But the adjustment had been challenging, more challenging than he'd let himself admit, and it was in these moments, when memories of the past emerged, that he found himself quietly mourning what he'd lost that afternoon in July when his world had been turned upside down.
He was no stranger to having to set aside his own wishes and preferences, and a part of him had stopped thinking much about them, because they so often went unrealized or deferred. He'd gotten used to anticipating what others wanted, prioritizing the good of the majority, downplaying his own disappointment, and quieting any longings he felt with the reminder that it wasn't the time or place to voice those things. It had become second nature to him, so much so that when someone would ask him straight out what he wanted, he'd have a difficult time answering. He thought in terms of necessity, not wishes, because what he wished for had, for some time, ceased to have any viable significance.
He wasn't bitter about it. He knew that it was part of being dependable and responsible and the oldest, and that disappointment was a part of life...but sometimes, on occasions like these, the faintest hint of discontentment began to stir in his heart, and he found himself caught between the desire to let it grow and the impulse to quickly squelch it with the reminder that wishful thinking was impractical and that there was no time for that.
Oddly enough, it was much easier to dream for others. He'd thoroughly enjoyed hearing the newsies share their own wishes on that warm afternoon at Jacobi's Deli when they were celebrating their headline in The New York Sun. It had been both amusing and endearing to hear each of the boys rattle off their desires, their wishes coming to mind immediately and effortlessly as though the newsies had been thinking about them for a very long time. And Davey could remember how excited he'd felt for them in that moment, hoping against all odds that Jojo would get his solid gold watch and that Romeo would possess his racetrack box, wanting Race to have those shoes and Mush to have his haircut and Henry to have his sandwich.
But when it was his turn to speak, he'd reflexively turned his wish into an expression of hope that Katherine would get the recognition she deserved as the reporter who had championed the newsies' cause. It had been far from a lie, and not exactly a deflection - he did think that Katherine deserved it, and it would have made him happy to see her find the success that she wanted and was worthy of. But what if he had answered the question for himself?
What did he really want? If practicality and life circumstances could be set aside for the moment, if he didn't have to answer for those who were depending on him, what would he have said?
He didn't know the answer.
The vague dissatisfaction that he was currently feeling probably indicated that financial stability - perhaps even abundance - would have been a part of it (though he also sensed that this wasn't the whole story). He'd told Sadie that he wouldn't have been able to go along with her to the theater, which practically speaking was the truth...but to say that he was completely content to stay behind and wash windows while the rest of his peers went to take in a matinee would have been a lie. Truth be told, he was maybe even a little envious. It would have been nice, at least for a few hours, to leave his work behind and to be able to enjoy something frivolous simply because he could, to have the kind of money where he could treat not just himself but his friends to something they would enjoy. To not worry about where the next month's rent was going to come from, or to have to decide between two equally-important necessities at the store because he couldn't afford to buy both of them. To live comfortably rather than week-by-week.
When he was with the newsies, it was easy to forget that such prosperity existed; he was surrounded by boys who were even worse off than he was, who had no home to call their own and no parents to look after them, who were only a bad headline or two away from sleeping on the streets. Davey had felt, at times, almost embarrassed by how much he and Les had by contrast, and he'd found himself regularly downplaying certain aspects of his life - his education, his parents, his home - in an attempt not to insensitively flout those advantages in front of the boys who had none.
But that dynamic had been turned on its head with the arrival of the Liebermans, and suddenly Davey wasn't the one who had everything anymore. Suddenly, he and his family were the ones who lacked, the ones who possessed less than the rest, the ones who received charity rather than dispensing it. The dinner they'd shared with the Liebermans earlier in the week had made that distinction abundantly clear.
The plan had been for the families to meet at a nearby delicatessen for a simple dinner, somewhere close by that Mayer would be able to limp to with Esther and Davey's help and where the families could pay for their own meals. But at the last minute, Gabriel Lieberman had called over to the tenement to invite the Jacobses to dine at the Waldorf-Astoria instead, where their out-of-town friends were staying. Esther, taking the call in the landlord's office, had protested, knowing that the trip would be too far for Mayer and that the cost would be more than what her family could afford, but Gabriel had brushed aside her concerns, saying that he would send a carriage over and that he would be covering the cost of the meal himself, and despite her hesitations, he'd continued to insist. It had put Esther in a hard position; to accept would be to eschew the rules of hospitality - the Liebermans were technically the guests in town, and shouldn't be paying for the meal - but to keep refusing would feel discourteous, so eventually, she'd reluctantly agreed.
Mayer had been in a sour mood when he'd been apprised of the change, saying that it was in bad taste of Gabriel to flaunt his wealth like that when he knew very well that the Jacobses couldn't afford to pay for their own meals, but in the end he'd conceded that it would have been ill-mannered to refuse, so he'd grudgingly agreed to his wife's decision.
It had been a rather subdued carriage ride, Mayer irritably silent, Esther uneasy, Davey anxious, and Les trying (but mostly failing) to sit still, all of them dressed in their best clothes that still felt a little shabby when they'd arrived at the Waldorf-Astoria and had made their way into the lobby of the opulent and lavishly-decorated hotel.
It had been a rather awkward dinner despite the elegant surroundings and sumptuous array of food. Mayer had remained taciturn throughout the entire meal, clearly put off by the display of abundance, while Gabriel Lieberman had appeared oblivious to his guest's discomfort, playing the part of benevolent host with gusto. The rest of the Jacobs family had managed to remain politely agreeable (though Les was probably the only one who'd felt truly comfortable enough to enjoy the food), but the effort had worn on all of them, and the relief when they'd left the hotel to return to the tenement (again by carriage, compliments of their gracious host) had been almost palpable.
Mayer had been in ill humor since then, and Davey had found himself wondering if perhaps that dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria had been part of what had caused his father to be so moody during their conversation earlier in the day. It couldn't have been easy, being reminded of the vast discrepancies in life situation between him and his friend who had formerly been his equal; if the slight sting of Ruben's belittling (if mild) jab only a few moments ago was anything like it, Mayer's irritability and his impatience to get back to work were understandable. The Jacobses had never been a family of high standing, but they had their pride, after all.
Privilege is relative, Davey thought to himself for the second time that day.
Realizing that he'd been lost in his thoughts for several moments, he dunked the rag into the bucket of water and resumed his work, reminding himself that the window in front of him wasn't going to wash itself. He had just begun getting back to work when the door of the landlord's office opened and Philip Becker appeared.
"You're making good time, David!" he exclaimed, walking over. "Already on the third floor. I suppose that's what happens when you're young and industrious and not a creaky old man like me!" He smiled, and Davey found himself thinking that, despite the humorous self-descriptor, Philip Becker would never become a creaky old man regardless of how long he lived.
"I have to step out for a few hours to attend to a matter of business," the landlord continued, "but I wanted to make sure I paid you for your work before I left." He handed Davey a small envelope. "This should cover everything."
"Thank you, Mr. Becker," Davey said, putting the envelope in his pocket. "My family and I are obliged to you, as always."
The man waved off his thanks. "You're the one doing the work! I'd be a reprehensible employer indeed if I didn't see to compensating my staff for their time." His eyes were mirthful as he added, "Besides, it would be foolish of me to shortchange you in particular, David. I've already heard about the trouble you and your friends caused Joseph Pulitzer when he refused to pay you fairly, and I'd hate to have a strike on my hands." He grinned at Davey and then clapped him on the back before heading for the stairs, disappearing down them and whistling a tune as he went.
Davey turned back to his work, smiling a little to himself. Philip Becker's temperament and mien always reminded him of Sadie (or maybe it was the other way around). He'd never met Mrs. Becker, but he wondered if the similarities between mother and daughter were as equally apparent, and if the resemblance was just as strong.
Finishing the first window, he moved on to the second, his thoughts turning to his earlier tête-à-tête with Sadie. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that it hadn't been too difficult to draw her out of her dismay, and even more pleased at his ability to maneuver the conversation in a way that had not only restored her cheerfulness but had managed to even the score where their friendly "ridiculous versus sensible" argument was concerned.
Now he just needed to figure out something sensible for her to do.
The thought was inordinately exciting to Davey, though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't because he wanted to obligate Sadie to do something that she'd find disagreeable (in fact, he very much hoped she would enjoy it), but maybe it had to do with the fact that, while they saw each other regularly for tutoring and in passing around the tenement, they rarely spent time together simply for the fun of it. They'd chat for a few minutes here and there, but their work had always been the focus of and the impetus for their interaction. This would be different. A bit less business-like. A bit less defined. Something that friends did together simply because they enjoyed each other's company.
An idea suddenly crossed Davey's mind, and he mulled it over as he finished cleaning the second window and moved on to the third.
It would be a calculated risk; he knew that Sadie was not naturally disposed to the particular diversion that he had in mind, but it was something that he'd always been surprised that she didn't enjoy more, so perhaps if he helped her revisit it in a different context, she'd find it more appealing. And if she did, well...then they'd end up having something in common after all.
Several minutes (and a few more windows) later, Davey had a plan in place for his meeting (he wasn't really sure what to call it) with Sadie. Between working on an adaptation of The Jungle Book for the lodging house shindig and preparing for his time with the landlord's daughter, he'd have his hands full for the next several days, but it would be a nice distraction from the cares of daily life, and he had high hopes that the results of his efforts would be gratifying in more ways than one.
Getting to his feet, Davey picked up the bucket of dirty water and headed for the stairs. He'd only need to make two more trips down to the washroom before he finished the rest of the windows, and then it would be time to head home. If he worked efficiently, maybe he'd even have a chance to begin one of his projects before he had to turn in for the night.
The thought gave him the boost of energy that his weary body needed, and he found himself quickening his pace as he made his way down the stairs.
A/N: Did he just...kinda sorta finagle that situation into a kinda sorta potential...almost-date? Is Davey actually more suave than we give him credit for (or is he merely stumbling his way into things like usual)? I'd love to hear any of your remarks, predictions, questions, or thoughts on anything in this chapter - your feedback is always a huge encouragement to me.
