Page 9 of Roses, Pearls, and Hot Summer Nights
She began, “I was thinking about what you said earlier …”
What specifically?“I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn in some way.”
I tried to be polite and genuinely grateful, but I didn’t remember if I’d said anything offensive.
She waved her hand in that familiar dismissive gesture, as if she could command the air itself to push my words aside.
“You did nothing wrong. You told me people don’t do things for you, and while that was true, it’s also obviouslynottrue. What they did, so far as I can tell, was they hurt you. Inside.” She touched her chest. “I feel it for you, because I once felt that way myself. Maybe you think that I can’t possibly understand your situation, but I do. I’m not normally nosy, but I overheardyour aunt talking loudly while she waited for the car to pick her up last week. When I heard her, I realized there are parts of my past that I never shared with my beloved family, but maybe that time has come. Regardless, I hoped you might be the one to finally help me do what I’ve been daydreaming about doing. I knew even before meeting you that we were kindred souls.” She smiled warmly and patted my arm. “I have to admit, the way Julian can’t take his eyes off you makes me wonder about some other things, but I digress. I know you’re the right person even more after today. You keep secrets. That’s important in our life.” She pointed toward the notebooks.
I blinked fast, trying to digest it all. The gist seemed to be that her former experiences mirrored mine in some way—though I would actively ignore her comment about Julian. Still, I couldn’t disagree. I keptmanysecrets.
So far, Dina gave me more attention than anyone else in the past five years. I didn’t realize I’d missed it until I had it again, then I thought I could roll around in it. “If there’s any way I can help you, Dina, I will do it in a heartbeat.”
She patted my hand again. “We are going to have such a nice summer, you’ll see. Julian texted me …” She paused on the wordtexted. I had watched her struggle with texting all day. Half the time, she gave up and called whoever it was instead of texting in return. “He said that I didn’t have to answer him, but he would be here around the same time as last night. He also mentioned you were going out with him again.”
I nodded. “He’s taking me to the library.”
Dina didn’t seem surprised. “Good boy. Okay, let’s get started. I’ve written five notebooks total so far. These are the first three. I’m not sure about the final two at this point. I don’t know if I’ll share them or not, but we’ll start with these three. I want you to read them and then type them up for me. I’m afraidthat the handwritten notebooks will get destroyed if I’m not careful. I want them typed up, so they last forever.”
I glanced at her. “Dina, we could scan them into the computer. You don’t have to have them typed. We could …”
“No.” She shook her head fast. “This is what I want, and you’re just the person for the job, I just know it. I want them copied word for word, but please fix my spelling, if I misspelled something. I’ve never been very smart, despite my schooling.”
I could understand that, although I might not be much better than her when it came to spelling.Spell check will be great for that.“But your family doesn’t know what’s in them?”
“Some of it, they know. They’d have to know, but not all of it. I think that they need to know about me and the people they loved before it’s too late.” She smiled. “I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but this is a big step for me. Please, don’t tell Julian what’s in the books. Or any of his brothers, either, for that matter.”
I shook my head then shrugged. “I don’t know his brothers, but I wouldn’t tell anyone anything anyway. I say that, but I realize that Julian will be curious what I’m doing eventually.”
“You can tell him what you’re doing, just not what they say. I plan to give the typed version to them all in the future as a gift from me to them.”
I tilted my head, a bit confused at the premise. Then again, Dina was seventy-something years old. She could do whatever she liked. It still seemed weird to me.
“Here.” She rose, went into the kitchen, and returned with a laptop. “Use this. I bought it for you.”
I gawked at her present, holding it gingerly in my hands. I never got to ask her when she bought it, because she waved her hand in her dismissive way again. “I’ve been waiting for you, Alatheia. You do know what your name means, right?”
I shrugged. It never occurred to me to look it up. It was just a name; everyone had one. Suddenly, though, I was desperate to know. “What does it mean?”
“Derived from the ancient Greek, your name means truth. By the end of this summer, you’ll be used to the truth being what you deserve.” She smiled at me again. “Not to mention fun. You’ll have that this summer, too. Oh, and in regard to Julian’s brothers, you will know them, I can guarantee it. Off you go. Read and type.”
Read and type.
With that instruction, she left me alone in her living room with my tea, the notebooks, and the laptop. The task seemed simple enough, especially considering the five shopping bags full of goodies sitting around my feet. Granted, I never asked her for anything, but the joy she expressed about spending time with me made it worth its weight in gold. I reached for a notebook, revved to get started.
I had to admit to a certain level of curiosity, because after all, how dark could it get? She was a rich woman living in the upper east side of New York City, beloved by her family, and obviously a widow—unless her husband lived elsewhere. I imagined her divorced, or with an ex-husband and a string of lovers. Despite spending a day with her, the woman’s life remained a mystery.
I grabbed a notebook, eager to read. It took me a second to decipher her cursive, since we didn’t use it anymore in school. I was dyslexic but reading quietly had not been a problem for years. Luckily, I had learned script in San Francisco with one teacher, but then we’d never revisited it again. Eventually, I adjusted and I began to read.
June 6th,1966
Well,I feel compelled to write this, despite not being sure if I will ever share it. Today, he picked me up from the airport. We went straight from there to check on the project in Lower Manhattan—I think my uncle called it the World Trade Center. He says they’ll have an official party when it is finished. I have to go with them in August, but today they started construction.
It’s hard for me to imagine how big the finished structure will be. Then again, I am used to things being smaller. I don’t think anyone could ever really think of this place as a home, not really.
What was I doing there at all? Sorry, I had to pause before I could write any more after the word all. I just started crying again. It’s hard to believe what has happened. How can my parents be gone? Dead. They were so alive, so happy, just days ago . Now they are dead, and I am across the world—or at least it feels like I am. Please don’t critique my melodrama, people who will never read this. Focus instead on the parts with my uncle doing important things, and staring at construction sites, and whether they’re bigger or smaller than imagination can conceive.
When I close my eyes, I can still imagine the rolling hills in Switzerland, practically feel the breeze on my face. Schoen was always so perfect in the summer. I waited all year for the season to change. Then it would happen, and the weather would turn just cool enough that I wasn’t so hot that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Mother always loved Southern Italy in the summer—what a difference in temperature that was!
