Jami Attenberg - Saint Mazie

She said: Life, money, good.

She was nodding her head.

She said: Well, money will come and go. Mostly come though.

Her hands were cool and soft. Her nails were clean. I admire a well-kept hand. She rubbed a thumb along a line across the top of my hand, and then a line beneath that.

She said: But this is no good.

She squeezed my hand tightly and released it.

She said: No love for you. You will spend your life alone.

I pulled my hands back.

I said: I got company whenever I like.

Rosie shushed me. I don’t care, I don’t need anyone telling me about my life.

Jeanie said: Now me.

She shoved her hands in the gypsy’s. Gabriela smiled at Jeanie like she loved her. The warm glow of a con artist. She told her she had a strong love line, and she pointed to something on her head. She told her she will marry well. A rich man. She asked if she liked rich men. As if she wouldn’t want a rich man! I watched Jeanie’s face. She was considering it, though she didn’t answer. But she smiled. Maybe she smiled like it was funny. I would have said, Who cares? But nobody was asking me. Nobody was telling me I was going to marry someone special.

Gabriela turned to Rosie, and Rosie slid her hand in hers so easily it was like they were husband and wife.

Rosie said: You already know what it says.

Gabriela said she did. Rosie asked her to look again. I didn’t know why it was so serious.

Rosie said: Now that you’ve met them, look again.

Gabriela said: They are strong these two, as you said, but who they are will not change what will happen to you. They love you. I don’t need to look at their palms to see that. They’re going to be who they’re going to be.

Then she brought Rosie’s hand to her lips and kissed it. It was a sweet vision.

She said: I still think it can happen, Rosie.

Rosie started crying and then Gabriela swept herself up into the back room, and came back with a handful of bottles. She smacked each bottle down in front of Rosie.

She said: I’ve asked everyone I know, and they’ve asked everyone they know too. I went uptown, I went downtown, I went across the river, and I gathered these for you.

She handed Rosie a piece of paper.

She said: I wrote down instructions. How much, how often. And there’s an address on there, a Chinaman. He sticks needles in you and they say it lights a fire within your womb.

She held Rosie’s hand again.

She said: I lit candles for you, my friend.

Now Rosie was sobbing, and then we held her. So our poor Rosie can’t have babies. I never knew, but how could I? We were her babies all along, I thought we were enough for her. I didn’t know she wanted anyone but us. She watched over us better than our own mother ever did. She’s our sister and our mother. Oh, all this time her heart was breaking and we didn’t even know.

George Flicker

Oh you want to know about the gypsies? What do you think you know about the gypsies? That they’re a bunch of criminals, probably. That’s what people always thought about them. My mother swore they spoke the truth. My friends from Little Italy, they wouldn’t go anywhere near them. They’re superstitious, and they were afraid of the curses. I have only ever been afraid of what I could see right in front of my face. Because I have seen enough. I don’t need to imagine anything worse.

But the gypsies were just the same as you and me. They lived here just like everyone else. They walked the same streets. It’s true that some of them were criminals. But you can’t judge a whole people by the actions of just a few. But that’s what we do here in this country. We do it in this world. I’ve lived such a long life. I thought things would be better by now. Every day I still watch the news. I listen to people talk. Things are not as bad as they once were, but not as good as I had hoped they would be someday. It’s the year 2000 already, and there’s still all kinds of messes in this country. I had higher hopes for this world. Eh, but what are you going to do about it anyway?

Mazie’s Diary, June 16, 1917

Rosie’s sick on the couch again. Hands on her belly. She swings from happy to sad in a heartbeat. We wrapped her up in blankets. I told her to stop taking whatever the gypsy gave her. Rosie, please stop, I was begging her.

She told me I was a fool and didn’t know what I was talking about, that things take time, life takes time. But it doesn’t seem right, this much pain.

What would anyone do to hold on to a dream for a little longer? Gypsy con or not, it doesn’t change Rosie’s dream.

I can’t blame her for having one, though. I would never blame anyone for wishing for something more from this life.

George Flicker

Then I was old enough to go to war, or at least I told them I was. I was a few months shy of legal but they didn’t check too hard. I would have said anything though to get out of that cramped apartment! The taller I got, the smaller it seemed. And I wanted to see the world. That I would be fighting in a war didn’t scare me for some reason. Maybe I wasn’t so brave, maybe I was just stupid instead. I won’t talk about what happened though, what I saw there. You know, we’re not like your generation where we need to talk about every little thing. Sometimes a bad thing happens and then you’re done with it.

But anyway I didn’t see Mazie again for five years, so I can’t help you out during that particular time period. Because I went to France and then I stayed there when the war was over and lived there and worked there and had a life there. I lived with a French girl for a year even. And she was really something, I’ll tell you. Ooh-la-la, I know. [Laughs.] I’ve had my fun, I’ve had my fun. Eventually I had to come back though. My mother got sick, and of course, there was all that trouble with Uncle Al.

Mazie’s Diary, November 1, 1917

Twenty years old. I’m sure I should be having more fun.

What is this pull in me that makes me want trouble? Months I’ve been quiet and good, even though the heat on the streets was making me feel sexy, wanting to dance and drink. To kiss someone. Passing by alleys at night and seeing girls and boys playing. Fingers on lips, fingers on tits, I miss it. It’s been so long since I’ve lain down with someone. Most nights are with Rosie now. I lost this summer to her belly.

Mazie’s Diary, December 13, 1917

Rosie lost another baby. This time it felt like she was pregnant for only a minute.

Now she’s flat on her back again in the living room. Weeks and weeks of it, and there’s a dent in the couch now, I can see the mattress sagging beneath her. I swear the springs will sink straight through the floor.

She grabs my hand but squeezes too hard and it hurts but I try not to make a noise. She asks me to stroke her head but shifts her head, squirms beneath my fingers. Rub my feet, she tells me.

But then she says: No, you’re doing it wrong. No, don’t touch me.

Watches me with her eagle eye, thinking I’ll leave her.

Louis sits in the kitchen, head down, in the food. He closed the theater for a few days this week. Jeanie’s nowhere I can see, smart girl.

I take nips in the bedroom. I can’t go to the whiskey, but the whiskey can come to me.

Mazie’s Diary, December 16, 1917

Something’s going to break soon. I got no control over myself and I like it.

Mazie’s Diary, January 4, 1918

I wasn’t ready to go home yet but there was nobody left in the bar worth talking to. Talked to a bum on the street instead, an old fella. We split whatever was in his bottle and I gave him a smoke. I was feeling tough. I asked him how long he’d been on the streets.