John Casey - Compass Rose

“Don’t worry, I’ll be—”

“—finish a sentence.”

The greenroom was still a swirl. The actors had taken off their costumes and makeup but weren’t letting go of a party. May and Dick got up when they saw Rose. May said, “Time for us to get home. I’ll have this costume done by the afternoon. I can drop it by your house.”

Rose said she’d walk them out to the parking lot. Mary was about to hold her back but then thought that since the band wasn’t in the greenroom, they might be putting their instruments in their cars.

Just as they got to Dick’s pickup Elsie swooped down and took Rose’s arm. She said, “I have something to say to you.” She led Rose off, three cars away. Mary didn’t like Elsie’s look and went after them.

Elsie, still holding Rose’s arm, hissed at her, “How could you? How could you do that to her? And to Dick?”

“Mom! What are you talking about? What?”

“That accent you put on. That swamp-Yankee accent. You made fun of them. It’s an insult.”

Rose was silent. Mary said, “Oh, for God’s sake, Elsie. It’s a comedy. She could have done Irish. And I wouldn’t—”

Elsie said, “You stay out of this.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Rose said. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Elsie said. “Except maybe this playacting, maybe this whole school, is a big mistake.”

“Come with me,” Rose said. “Come right now. We’ll see if you’ve gone crazy.” She pulled on Elsie’s arm. Elsie pulled it free. Rose marched to Dick’s truck, went up to the passenger window. May rolled it down. Elsie came up behind Rose. Rose said, “May, tell me honestly — what did you think?”

“Of your play? It’s good. I told you it’s good, and I think you were the best one. You sing even better than you did at Sylvia Teixeira’s wedding. Of course, this time I could understand the words.”

“So when I changed into the maid’s costume — that was okay?”

“When that boy chased you around the bed? You were funny. Reminded me of Tom. I told him so just before he left. Tom up to his pranks. I liked when you were being the nice young lady, but I liked it when you cut loose on that boy and didn’t let him get too fresh. And not a bad word in the whole play, not like some movies.”

Mary couldn’t keep out of it. She said, “Dick? What about you? Rose remind you of anybody?”

“It was Rose on her own up there singing, but I suppose I got to give you some credit, and not just for the singing. She reminded me of you when you were behind the bar in your old place. What do you say, Rose? You see Mary over in the Sawtooth kitchen. She still take the paint off anyone gets out of line?”

Rose laughed. Mary hadn’t ever heard Dick and May so talkative. They’d looked grim in the greenroom, but now that they were out in the fresh air on their way home, the play was bubbling up in them. Dick started the motor. May said, “I’ll bring the dress and hat over tomorrow lunchtime, if that’s all right with you, Elsie.”

Whatever Elsie said was lost as the truck moved and a bait barrel rattled against the side of the bed. Mary, Rose, and Elsie watched the truck find a place in the line of cars headed out of the parking lot.

Mary said, “Rose, I think that’s the clarinetist over there. In that station wagon. And the guy next to him — he’s putting his bass fiddle in the back.”

Rose wasn’t through with Elsie. “I didn’t expect you to like the play. I mean, you’re practically tone-deaf. But you’re out to get me. You’re as much out to get me as the nastiest girl in school. At least she’s going to graduate.”

Mary said, “Rose—”

“You stay out of this,” Elsie said.

“Oh, right,” Rose said. “Pick on Mary just because you’re wrong.”

“I’m not so sure I am wrong. Maybe Dick and May were just being nice. They let you get away with anything over there, and it’s gone to your head — along with this playacting.”

“My head? You’re the one who took Deirdre O’Malley in, and how dumb was that? You’re the one who said you didn’t want Uncle Jack to pull strings — you think you’d get a job here if it wasn’t for him? And now you try to think of some way to fuck up the one thing I can do — not that you’d know anything about it — and guess what? You’re wrong again. You think they’re ashamed of how they talk? Why should they be? They live on a creek that’s named for their family. They used to own Sawtooth Point. You think Johnny Bienvenue is ashamed of how he talks? Or Eddie Wormsley? You’re the only one who cares. Well, you and Uncle Jack.”

“Then how come you talked like them when you were being the maid? The one who makes the beds and cleans the toilets.”

“That was aeons ago. I know you didn’t get the music, but you might have noticed the costumes. Like 1920.”

“And don’t try to lump me in with Jack.”

“What toilets? No toilets. Who went and got Jack to fork over a membership card to Sawtooth?”

“That’s yours.”

“Then how come it says ‘Family membership’? You’re the fancy tennis player. You and Phoebe Fitzgerald. I only go there to see Mary.”

“That’s enough,” Mary said.

Elsie said again, “I told you to stay out of it.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Mary said. “I’m telling Rose she’s screeching her voice. But the pair of you ought to shut the hell up.” They both turned toward Mary. She said, “I’ve got half a mind to bang your heads together.” They both opened their mouths. “By Christ, you say another word and I’ll do it.” As fast as she’d got angry, she felt a great sob coming on. She took a breath, and it came out a growl that scratched her throat. “Now, go home. The two of you. Just go on home.”

Rose took two steps away and said, “I’m staying here. If I can’t find a spare bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Elsie set her jaw and marched off toward the woods.

Mary got in her pickup. She put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. She laid her forehead on the top of the steering wheel, drained.

Elsie woke up late after a bad night’s sleep. She felt too tired to go work on Miss Perry’s garden, too hungover with spent anger to pass a Saturday morning alone. She certainly wasn’t going to call Mary. She got out of bed, pulled the comforter up sloppily, felt one of her lurches for Dick in her bed — funny how she could see him and feel neutral, edgy but neutral, but when she was alone be stung by wanting him. That bit of wondering swerved her back to bleakness. She put the teakettle on and said, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She got Charlie’s new listing from information, hoped she’d get Deirdre, almost hung up at the thought of Deirdre and Charlie in bed together, one of them reaching across the other to get the phone.

She got Deirdre, who said she was about to go for a bike ride, but if Elsie didn’t mind waiting an hour she’d love to stop by. “So Rose must be feeling pretty great. Tell her from me she was terrific.”

Did that mean Charlie hadn’t been bothered by Rose’s accent? Or had he just not said anything about it to Deirdre?

Elsie put on a Rolling Stones tape. And to hell with Rose telling her she was tone-deaf. She could dance to it, she could sing along.

She stopped in mid-song. She’d forgotten that May was bringing Rose’s maid costume. Elsie didn’t want May bumping into Deirdre. She called May and said she’d come pick it up. May said it was no trouble to bring it over. Elsie said, “Well, if it’s no bother, could you drop it off at the school? That’s where Rose is. If you don’t see her, just go by the auditorium. Someone’s bound to be there.”