It was a Sunday afternoon, a dreary day in late winter when the sky hadn’t decided what it was going to do. We packed ourselves into Star’s car—a red Chevie with grandmother sitting next to her in the front seat. Judy and I sat in back. Star asked Judy to come along, being she was very pregnant and unable to get around. Judy carried a tote bag and placed between us. There was hardly any room to move. I rolled down the window after Judy let out a big one.
Grandmother didn’t need to be convinced. The idea of riding along the West Side Highway to visit Joey, a man who Star held in great esteem if not worshipped, was not to be missed. I was there for different reasons, lucky to avoid any further disclosure about Roque to my grandmother. At least I hoped so. We sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic and it was drizzling. A string of rosary beads and a blue hula dancer occupied the front dashboard and didn’t move.
Judy leaned toward the front, “All this car exhaust. I’m feeling sick. I should’ve never come.”
“I thought you knew how to get there.” Grandmother rolled down her window and waved to a woman on the street. “Maybe she knows the way.”
“I know the way,” Star said, “but planned on being able to see out the window.” The windshield wipers were doing a great job of smudging the dirt across the glass. Judy pulled a stick of chewing gum from her tote and offered me one. “Stop chewing so loud.” Judy stuck her gum inside the tote. “Help me look for a parking spot.”
We found one and entered through a lobby covered in red and gold wallpaper with moldings framed in brass around the ceiling. The floor was polished stone and laid in a pattern of black and gray interwoven leaves. There were a bouquet of flowers sitting on the front desk. I think they were chrysanthemums, every single one of them was white.
Star signed in at the desk and a man explained how we needed to take the elevator to the twelfth floor and then go up the staircase to the penthouse. “I’ve been there many times,” Star said. “I know how to get there.”
“Very good. I’ll call Mr. Bourbon to let him know.” He held the receiver in his hand. “Are all of you going up?” Judy hoisted her tote bag over her shoulder. Grandmother held my hand.
“Yes.”
The elevator arrived and we swiftly reached our destination, stepping aside as Star led us to the promised staircase. She rang the bell. We lined up behind her and waited for Joey to open the door. He looked like Humpty Dumpty wrapped in a black cape which floated about his girth.“Estrella, my friend.” He gave her a hug. “So sorry. I was on the phone.”
Judy, who was used to public appearances, stepped forward. “I’m Star’s, I mean Estrella’s, upstairs neighbor. My name is Judy. You might remember me, several years ago I won the Miss Bruckner Boulevard contest.”
Joey nodded and applied a small kiss to the red jewel on her finger. “Here is Lulu and abuela.” He knew our names. “Now we are complete. Sit,” he said, and escorted us into the living room where. the walls were painted saffron and the ceiling opened up above our heads like a chapel. I saw an angel fly past grandmother’s head. Joey motioned for us to sit in chairs surrounding a beautiful mahogany table. It had large lion claws feet. Above it, a chandelier. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Thank you,” Star said.
Not wanting to be impolite, everyone asked Joey to bring them a glass of something and sat stiffly until he came back from the kitchen. He strained Judy’s coffee through a cloth filter right into a pot on the table. After he was finished, he gave her a silver creamer with real cream and placed several slices of lemon on her plate. The beers were dark and foamy. Joey served them in glasses with a gold rim. He poured my soda into one of those old-fashioned parlor glasses with the name “Coca-Cola” etched in white. For himself, he poured blue liqueur into a shot glass. Joey faced us from the other side of the table. There were tapestries on the wall, pictures of knights and women with skirts sweeping the ground. “What a day,” He extended his hands from beneath his cape and lifted his drink. “I’ve been on the phone all morning. People on the West Coast. They won’t leave me alone. They want to know how to live their lives.” We shifted in our seats. “They want to know how to invest their money, on what day to get married, and where to go on vacation.” We relaxed. None of us were preoccupied by such ridiculous problems. “What am I to tell them? They won’t leave me alone. Ever.” He raised his hands to the ceiling.
“What do you tell them?” Grandmother sipped her beer. She always sipped tea with a sugar cube held between her teeth or drank an occasional coffee, never beer.
“I describe possibilities,” Joey said. “What else can I do? Maybe you can tell me.” Judy sucked the juice from her lemon peel and placed it on the side of her saucer.
“I can’t believe people pay you to say such things. Back in the camps, we knew we were going to die. No one needed to tell us.”
Joey lit a cigarette. “Ahh, abuela, but you didn’t die, and why not? If someone back then, as you say, said you were going to live, would you have believed them?”
“No,” she said, laying her hand on the table, several of her fingers twisted like willow branches. “I wanted to live. That’s the only thing that kept me alive.” To my amazement, she took another sip of beer. “How did you get to be a witch?”
“A Halloween witch with a tall hat and flying monkeys?” He smiled. “Abuela, that is a long and painful story, but here I am after many years in charge of my gift. But before we talk, I must congratulate you on your good health.”
Star, Judy and I put down our glasses and spoke in unison, “Good health?”
“Why yes,” as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s the pickle juice abuela has been drinking which has righted the relationship between her stomach and her kidneys. I would recommend adding sauerkraut.”
“Sauerkraut.” Grandmother mouthed the words and took another sip of beer.
“Yes,” Joey turned to Star, “And my darling Estrella, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that water in your sink. The water in your sink has nothing to do with Blanca. Nothing at all.” I decided that he also must brush his hair with olive oil. It shone beneath the chandelier and curved around his ears. “You can’t blame a poor woman who’s trying to raise a sick child on her own. Actually, my darling, that afternoon with George the other day; you’re pregnant.”
“Pregnant!” Star screamed. “Pregnant!
I really did see an angel on the mantle which flew into Joey’s kitchen, but thought it would be rude to run and check in the middle of an important conversation.
Joey turned to me. “It was Lulu. It was her way of letting you know, wasn’t it my dear?” And then he reached for my hand. And once you hold that birth party in your apartment for Judy in a few months,” he looked at me, “Lulu will have another few things to show you.”
How did he know that?
We stayed and talked for another hour. Star refused a third glass of beer saying she had to take care of her baby’s health. When we left the penthouse, Judy and Star faced each other and gave each other a belly bounce. Everyone clapped and shouted hurrah! I decided Star’s baby would be named Celeste Maria. Like Joey said, I needed to be in charge of my own gift. I was so grateful to Joey for not saying a word about Roque.
Grandmother went to bed early. I played one of her records and pretended I was dancing with Roque when the doorbell rang.