Four days later, Abe telephoned the resort. Betty pressed her ear to the receiver, as if his words could otherwise slip away.
She learned that Aaron Barsky had been in the 24th Infantry Division, but she didn’t understand other details, another example of being unaware. It wasn’t the time to ask Abe to explain. It wasn’t time to ask him anything. But that didn’t stop Betty from hoping he would return soon.
“I have to take care of some things. More than I realized,” Abe said. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
What did that mean? Another week? Two? The words stayed inside but selfishness tore a little hole in Betty’s thoughts, just big enough for worry to seep through.
“I’ve got to hang up now,” Abe said. “I love you.”
Betty gulped and released her bottled-up fear. Blood rushed around inside her chest. Had she really thought he’d stopped loving her in a few days? She wanted him to say it again and again. She missed their carefree “I love yous” that had been filled with hope and promise and kissing. She missed the three weeks of fervent, clandestine lovemaking. She gulped away an inappropriate twinge of desire.
Betty opened her mouth to reply with affection, to ask if he’d received the letters she’d written, to offer regards to his mother—but before she spoke, the line went dead.
“I love you too.” Betty finished the conversation even though only the operator was listening.
Chapter 21
BETTY
Betty pushed cooked carrot medallions around her plate with her fork. It was the tactic she now employed to make it look as if she had eaten.
At any moment Nannie would tell her to stop playing with her dinner, but that was all Betty could do. It had been days since Abe’s only telephone call, and while she’d written to him every night, Betty had received only one postcard with eight words on it.
Eight words she’d read a thousand times.
Rec’d your letters.
Will telephone soon.
Love,
Abe
Betty continued playing with the carrots until they lined up like little soldiers. Oh God. Anything but soldiers.
Nannie placed her hand on Betty’s forearm. Here it comes. Nannie is going to tell me to forget him.
“You’re not doing Abe any good starving yourself. Or hiding away from your friends.”
“I want to be alone,” Betty said. “And I’m not hungry.” She hadn’t been hungry in days. Rye toast went down okay when Mabel stopped balking that Betty wanted it dry, without butter or jam, and obliged her.
Nannie rubbed Betty’s arm. “He’s with his family, Betty. Where he should be.”
Betty wanted to say she was Abe’s family, but she swallowed the words. Nannie’s kindness was proof she didn’t hate Abe. That would be enough for now.
“That swimsuit won’t fill out itself, you know,” Nannie said.
Betty needn’t be told again that the Catalina suit had cost four dollars. She lifted her fork and scooped a clump of mashed potatoes. She opened her mouth and pushed the fork inside and clamped her lips around it. Betty pulled out the fork and stared at the clean tines as she swallowed. Her stomach churned, threatening to retch.
“I know the swimsuit and dress cost a lot of money,” Betty said. “I’ll find a way to pay you back. But I don’t think I can do it—I can’t be in a beauty contest. It seems silly now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There is nothing silly about a time-honored tradition,” Nannie said.
“Oh, we’re so looking forward to the whole event,” Mrs. Levin said from the far side of the table. “We’ve never been. And your being in it makes it extra special.”
Betty resented how her life had become dining-room fodder. Where was Zaide when she needed him to distract a busybody with one of his stories? Betty looked at Mrs. Levin, who’d already gone back to picking the meat off a chicken thigh bone, as she ignored her two boys who were picking at each other.
Betty leaned toward Nannie but spoke toward her plate. “I can’t.”
Nannie whispered in Betty’s ear even though Zaide was across the room shmying around with the guests. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you’re smitten with each other. And with summer half over, I know you wish he were here.”
Betty’s cheeks heated as if she were feverish. They must have been beet red. What else did Nannie know?
“By carrying on with your life, it shows him that you can take care of yourself. Don’t make that poor boy worry about you when his brother has just died.”
Nannie was smart. That was good advice. She hadn’t asked Betty to break it off or forget him, but to change her behavior on Abe’s behalf.
“I’ll get back to acting more like myself,” she said. “You’re right.”
Nannie tilted her head. “And this surprises you?”
“No.” She didn’t dare say yes. Nannie was being receptive to the idea of them together. For the first time that week, Betty was able to smile.
Days came and went with the usual bustle of resort activity, and a return to normal behavior for Betty. Every swipe of lipstick, curl of her hair, and jumping jacks count-off meant she’d again look like the girl Abe loved. She knew more important things were happening in the world—in Abe’s world too—but this was something she could control. She’d have pink cheeks even without rouge, a smile that reflected the mood she wanted, and a skip in her step that meant she had faith in the future. She would not be that Betty’s dowdy twin. Staring into her bedroom vanity mirror, Betty brushed her hair again and again along the same silky path. She wondered if shiny hair and a smart appearance truly
