Cast Me Gently (5 page)

CHAPTER 5

Teresa looked up as
the front door opened and she heard Bernie’s voice call, “Bennie? You home?”

The childhood nickname made Teresa smile. “In the kitchen.”

“Well, look at you, all domestic,” Bernie said, taking her coat off as she stomped into the kitchen, where Teresa was rolling dough through the pasta maker.

How does someone so little make so much noise?
Teresa picked up a strip of cut dough and threw it at her.

Bernie caught it and popped it into her mouth. “For dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I keep trying to talk Ma into buying our pasta, but she won’t.”

“So you get to make pasta by hand? I haven’t done this since I was a kid.” Bernie went to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. “I went by the store, but you weren’t there. What’s up with the front window?”

“What?”

“All the Halloween stuff.”

Teresa looked up. “Don’t you like it?”

“No, it looks fine,” Bernie said. She pulled out her pack of cigarettes before remembering where she was. “Just not what I expect at Benedetto’s.”

“Someone suggested it, and I thought we should give it a try.” Teresa hung the neat strips of cut dough on a pasta rack.

“Someone like who?”

“Her name is Ellie. She’s a teller at our bank,” Teresa said. She rolled another ball of dough flat to feed into the machine.

“Why is a teller telling you how to decorate the store window?” Bernie sat, reaching for one of the biscotti sitting on a platter on the table and dunking it into her coffee. “And why are you listening?”

“She also works at Kaufman’s and thought it might bring in more Halloween business.”

“Has it?”

“Yeah, it has.” Teresa caught the long strips as she cranked the handle. “We got some cheaper candy for people to give out and it’s selling really well. They can buy it here instead of going to the big stores.”

“What’d your mom say?”

Teresa grinned. “I did it without asking her. She started to make a fuss, but then the customers started buying. Said they didn’t know we carried that stuff, so that shut her up.”

They were interrupted by Gianni’s entrance into the kitchen.

“Hey, Bernie.” He flashed a big smile. “I didn’t know you were here.” He leaned close to her as he reached across her to take a biscotti.

“God.” She leaned back and waved a hand in front of her face. “How much of that goddamned cologne are you wearing?”

He gave her what Teresa guessed was supposed to be a roguish grin. Teresa made a gagging face, which Bernie saw over his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asked suggestively. “What if I told you it’s all I wear to bed, like Marilyn Monroe?”

Bernie laughed out loud. “If I want Italian meat, I’ll go to Salvatore’s butcher shop. You got nothing that interests me, Benedetto.”

“You haven’t seen the way this meat’s wrapped,” he insisted, scooting a chair closer to her.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the store at noon?” Teresa asked.

Gianni waved a hand. “Pop will cover till I get there.” He turned back to Bernie. “You’re just playing hard to get.”

Bernie deliberately raised her coffee cup and took a sip before saying, “I’m not playing anything. I turned you down when you were five and tried to play doctor. I didn’t want to play with you then, and I don’t want to play with you now. Go away, Gianni.”

Teresa laughed. “Get out of here.”

“I’m going.” He scowled. “Y’uns don’t know a good thing when you see it.”

Bernie pretended to look around. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

Teresa laughed again as Gianni stormed out. “That’ll put him in a pissy mood for the rest of the day.”

“Good,” Bernie said. “He’s really full of himself.”

“Enough about him,” said Teresa. “What brings you over here?”

Bernie shrugged. “Just wondered if you wanted to go out tonight? Dinner? Listen to some music somewhere?”

Teresa looked at her. “Where’s Tom?”

Bernie shrugged again. “Who gives a fuck? Somewhere with his bitch of a wife. I want to go out and forget his sorry ass. Come on. It’s Saturday. We haven’t been out in ages.”

And whose fault is that?
Teresa wanted to ask, but didn’t. “Okay.”

“Can you make a day of it?” Bernie asked. “We could go downtown, go shopping and then go eat.”

“I don’t need to go shopping.”

Bernie gave her a withering look. “What’s that got to do with it? We live at home, for Christ’s sake. We got nothing else to spend our money on. Let’s go shopping, goddammit.”

Teresa laughed. “All right. Shopping.” She set the pasta rack on the counter to let the pasta dry. “Let me wash up and change. Just be a few minutes.”

A short while later, Teresa sat in the passenger seat of Bernie’s 1978 Toyota Corolla, her window down partway to bring fresh air into the car as Bernie puffed away on a cigarette.

“My dad would have a heart attack if he saw me riding in this rice burner,” Teresa said.

Bernie smirked. “I know. My dad gave me shit about it when I bought it, but it gets three times the gas mileage as his old Thunderbird did.” She glanced over. “Why doesn’t your dad complain about your Volkswagen?”

“Oh, he does,” Teresa said. “But a European car is better to him than a Japanese car. He’d rather I was driving a Fiat, but Gianni’s is always in the shop and the parts cost an arm and a leg, so Pop can’t say too much.”

Bernie drove downtown to Kaufman’s. “We haven’t been here in ages. Is your teller friend working today?”

“I don’t know,” Teresa said. “She mentioned the holidays, but I don’t know when she starts.”

Bernie found a parking space that was just barely big enough for the Corolla to wiggle into after multiple adjustments. “No way Dad could have done that in his Thunderbird.”

“Or my dad with his Cadillac.” Teresa fumbled in her purse for quarters to feed the meter. “How long?”

“Max it out,” Bernie said. “From here, we can go to Gimbels.”

Teresa shook her head. “I should have known this could get expensive.”

Bernie laughed and took her by the arm, steering her toward Kaufman’s main entrance and directly through to the Misses department. “Clothes. We need clothes.”

Three hours later, an exhausted Teresa sat on a chair near the mirror in the dressing room, her lap piled high with Bernie’s intended purchases, while Bernie was in a dressing room, trying on yet another outfit.

“When are you going to wear all these?” Teresa asked, sifting through the clothes stacked almost up to her chin.

“Oh, you know,” came Bernie’s voice from the dressing room. “Work and such.”

Teresa laughed, holding up a sequined blouse. “Work. Yeah. I can see you wearing this to work.”

The dressing room door cracked open and one of Bernie’s eyes peered out at her. “Well, that one maybe for New Year’s.”

Teresa gave her a look. “You’re counting on New Year’s?”

Bernie closed the dressing room door without answering, and Teresa let it drop. It was always like this. Had been for years. Tom would have some obligation with his wife or kids, Bernie would get furious and cry and swear she was going to break it off for real this time, but… she never did. All he had to do was call or send her flowers and she was right back where she had been—always available on his terms, whenever he could sneak away. It broke Teresa’s heart to watch it, but she’d learned long ago that Bernie couldn’t or wouldn’t help herself get out of this mess.

“I’ve got to get something to eat,” Teresa said when Bernie emerged at last from the dressing room. “Buy whatever you’re going to buy and let’s get to a restaurant.”

Five shopping bags and a lot of money later, Bernie and Teresa left Kaufman’s.

“Let’s drop these off at the car,” Teresa said, carrying three of the bags as she dodged people on the sidewalk.

“Didn’t you buy anything?”

Teresa made a face. “Couldn’t find anything that didn’t make my butt look even bigger.”

“You’re crazy. There were tons of things that would have looked good on you,” Bernie said.

“Yeah, like all the blouses and blazers with shoulder pads. Who thought that was a good look? I’m big enough without wanting to look like a football player. It’s not as much fun shopping for clothes when you’re five-foot-ten and wear size sixteen as it is when you take a six in petites. You make me sick.”

Bernie laughed. “You’re just grumpy because you’re hungry. Where do you want to eat?”

“Miss Benedetto?”

Teresa and Bernie both turned.

“Ellie,” said Teresa. “We were wondering if we might see you down here. This is my friend, Bernie D’Armelio.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss D’Armelio.” Ellie shook Bernie’s hand.

“Are you working here today?” Teresa asked, nodding back toward the store.

“No,” said Ellie. “I had to meet the holiday hiring coordinator to work out my hours.” She pointed to the shopping bags. “Looks like you hit the jackpot.”

Teresa shook her head. “All Bernie’s, not mine.”

“Here, Bennie.” Bernie took the bags from Teresa’s hands. “I’ll take these to the car. Be right back.”

“Bennie?”

Teresa smiled. “Childhood nickname. Bernie and Bennie. We were inseparable. Carrying all her bags has me starving. We were just going to grab a bite to eat,” she said. “Can you join us?”

Bernie came back, a lit cigarette in hand.

“I’m sure you two don’t need someone else intruding on your evening,” Ellie said.

“You’re not intruding,” Bernie said. “You work down here, right? Where would you recommend?”

Ellie blushed, a reaction that Teresa recognized, and she quickly said, “I don’t want any place fancy. Just good, cheap food. Anything around here that fits the bill?”

Ellie brightened. “There is a place—all the store employees go there when we get off. It’s not much to look at, but they’ve got the best burgers and shakes in Pittsburgh.”

“Sounds like our kind of place,” Bernie said. “Lead the way.”

Ellie guided them around the corner to a little diner that almost disappeared between two larger stores. “Most people walk right by and don’t even know it’s here.”

She opened the door, and Teresa and Bernie stepped inside.

“Ellie!”

A heavy-set black woman, just setting a plate down in front of a customer, stepped out from behind the counter to give Ellie a hug.

“Hi, Louise,” Ellie said, almost lost in the arms that enfolded her. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, I could complain, but it doesn’t do any good. The Lord doesn’t want to hear and neither do the customers,” Louise said. “How about you? You’ve been good?”

Ellie nodded. “I’m good. Keeping busy at the bank.” She turned and held out a hand. “This is Miss Benedetto and Miss D’Armelio.”

“Just Teresa and Bernie,” said Teresa.

“I’ve told them how good the food is here,” Ellie said.

“Well, have a seat, and I’ll see if I can’t live up to that promise,” Louise said with a chuckle. She handed menus out as they slid into a booth.

Bernie put a cigarette in her lips and raised her lighter. “Do you mind?”

“No,” said Ellie. “I don’t mind,” but Bernie had already lit the cigarette and taken a deep drag, aiming the exhaled smoke away, toward the window.

“So, what’s good?” Bernie asked. “You mentioned the burgers and shakes?”

“Everything is good,” Ellie said. “Grilled cheese, steak subs, chilidogs. And the pies. Louise makes all the pies herself.” She looked apologetically at them. “Sorry, nothing Italian.”

“Are you kidding?” Bernie said, picking up her menu. “We eat enough goddamned pasta in a week to build a parade float.”

“It’s nice to have a change,” Teresa agreed.

“What’ll it be, ladies?” Louise came to their table, pen and pad in hand.

Teresa and Bernie each ordered a burger and fries and agreed to split a chocolate shake, while Ellie ordered a grilled cheese sandwich.

Louise paused her pen. “Any extras?”

Ellie considered. “Ten?”

“You got it.”

Teresa looked at Ellie as Louise went to give the cook their order. “Ten what?”

“Ellie!”

Two young women had just entered the diner.

“Hi,” Ellie said. She slid out of the booth to hug each of them.

“You coming back to us this year?” asked one of the women, unwrapping a scarf and taking off her coat.

“Looks like,” Ellie said. “Santa’s bad elf. Can’t get rid of me.”

“Bad elf, my a—” The other woman stopped herself, glancing at Teresa and Bernie. “You sell more than the rest of us every year.”

Ellie laughed. “Y’uns on break?”

“Yes,” said the first woman, checking her watch. She caught Louise’s eye. “The usual, Louise.”

“Already put it in, girls,” Louise said as she bustled by, her arms loaded with plates for another table.

“So, we’ll see you in a few weeks?” asked the second woman of Ellie.

“In a few weeks.”

“Sorry, gotta eat and dash,” said the first woman as another waitress laid their drinks out for them at the counter.

“I know,” Ellie said. “Go.”

She slid back into the booth. “Sorry about that. Lots of the store workers come here on break or sometimes to get together after the store closes.”

“You seem like the popular girl,” Bernie said, stubbing out her cigarette. She pulled out another and was about to light it when Louise appeared.

“Here you go, ladies.”

“Looks wonderful, Louise,” said Ellie. “Thank you.”

“Notice the pickle on your plate.”

Ellie laughed, blushing a deep red. “I noticed.”

Teresa looked curiously at the dill pickle on Ellie’s plate, same as on hers and Bernie’s. She was about to ask, when Bernie moaned next to her, chewing with her eyes closed.

“God, that’s good.”

Teresa took a bite of her burger and sighed in agreement.

“Bennie, you gotta taste this shake.” Bernie slid the tall fluted glass to her.

Teresa stuck a second straw into the thick, chocolaty shake and took a sip. “This is my new favorite place to eat,” she said. “Ellie, this place is the best-kept secret in Pittsburgh.”

Ellie nodded as she took a bite of her sandwich, a thread of warm cheese pulling loose and dangling down her chin. She quickly plucked it away and wiped her mouth. “I know. Louise saved my life.”