Welcome to the World, Baby Girl! (17 page)

The waitress served them their coffee and a woman came up to the table behind her and spoke to Dena. “Excuse me, could I have your autograph, please? I’m one of your biggest fans.”

Sookie was pleased and chatted happily with her while Dena had to dig through her purse looking for a pen and a piece of paper because the woman had neither. “Dena and I roomed together in college in the Kappa house.”

“Is that right?” the woman said.

“Yes. I drove all the way over from Selma, Alabama, this morning just to visit with her for a few minutes. We haven’t seen each other in years. But she looks just the same. I said to her, I said, ‘Dena, here I am getting so old I’m falling in a heap and you look the same.’ ”

The woman smiled. “Well, isn’t that nice that you girls could get together.”

Dena finally found a pen and an old envelope and asked, “Is this for you? Or do you want me to sign it to somebody else?”

The woman said, “Oh, no, it’s for me,” and continued talking to Sookie. “I had a cousin who married a girl from Selma. Lettie Kathrine Wyndam.”

“Oh, I know the Wyndams. They are a lovely family!”

“Well, Lettie was certainly a lovely girl.”

Dena interrupted again. “Excuse me, I need to know how you want this made out.”

“You can just make it out to me, honey.”

Dena tried to be polite. “Could you tell me your name?”

The woman said, “Oh … I’m sorry … just make it out to Mary Lib Hawkins.”

Sookie continued on. “I tried to get Dena to come over to Selma and visit for a few days but she’s so busy, she has to fly back to New York to tape something this afternoon. Can you imagine that, making her work on Sunday? They must be heathens, if you ask me.”

Mary Lib was sympathetic and looked at Dena. “Oh, you poor thing.”

Dena handed her the envelope. “Here you go,” she said, “and thank you.”

“Thank you. And I hope you girls get in a nice visit.”

Sookie answered for both of them. “Thank you, ma’am, we will.”

After she left, Sookie turned to Dena, excited. “Wasn’t she nice? I’ll bet you get people coming up to you all the time. Doesn’t that make you feel important? I feel important just sitting here with you. Don’t you just love it?”

“No, not really.”

“You do too love it, all that attention. Who wouldn’t?”

Dena smiled. “It’s all right. It’s just … sometimes I don’t feel like being nice.”

“Well, you better be nice to me, Dena Nordstrom, with all that I’ve had to put up with because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“It wasn’t easy being roommates with the best-looking girl on campus. It’s a wonder it didn’t warp me for life. I had to work for hours getting my hair to do right and get my makeup on. And you would just get out of bed and go and look better than all of us. Remember how you used to eat like a lumberjack while I had to practically starve myself? All I could have was one lettuce leaf for dinner, to keep my thighs from jiggling, and you still haven’t put on a pound. I should just kill you in the name of all womanhood.” Sookie laughed. “Oh, and Dena, do you remember that electrosizer machine I bought that was supposed to reduce your thighs? Right before the homecoming dance? I stayed hooked up to that thing for hours, made myself black and blue, and I still looked like a sack of grapefruit in that dress.”

“Sookie, you were one of the most attractive girls on campus and you know it.”

“Ha! Just when I’d get some boy interested, you’d walk by and he would leave me in the dust. The only reason I got Earle Poole was because he was nearsighted.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Earle adored you.”

Sookie said, “Well, don’t forget Wayne Comer. When he saw you, he dropped me like a hot potato and started chasing after you. Broke my heart.”

“For God’s sake, Sookie, you never loved that geeky boy. He was an idiot!”

“Well, I know that now. Speaking of that, who’re you dating? Anybody special?”

“Yes. I guess …”

Sookie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, anybody I know?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, pooh, I was hoping you were having a wild romance with some big movie star. Well, are you at least in love, then?”

“No, thank God.”

Sookie was surprised. “Don’t you want to be in love?”

“No, I tried that … and I hated it. Never again. It is better to be the one who is loved than the one who loves. Take it from me, that’s my motto.”

“Oh, Dena, remember in college when I was so in love with Tony Curtis and you were in love with that writer … Tennessee Williams? You had his picture over your bed.”

“That’s right, my gosh … how do you remember that? I had almost forgotten.”

“How could I forget? Don’t you remember, you dragged me all the way up to St. Louis, Missouri, on some sacred pilgrimage to see some dumb shoe factory where he had worked. And you cried like it was some sort of shrine!”

“My gosh, that’s right. The International Shoe Company …”

“And then we took the streetcar out to some old ugly apartment building where he had lived.”

“God, I had forgotten all about that.”

Sookie sat back, pleased. “Now, see … aren’t you enjoying yourself, remembering old times? Now, aren’t you glad you came? I knew you were trying to wiggle out of it. I told Earle, I said she’s going to try and wiggle out of it. Now, aren’t you glad you didn’t?”

“Yes.”

“I always had to force you to be social. If it hadn’t been for me pushing you, you wouldn’t have ever been a Kappa. You wouldn’t have known anybody except those weirdo theater majors if it hadn’t been for me; now admit it, isn’t that the truth?”

“Yes. I guess.”

“Remember how shy you were? But I pushed you out into the world. As a matter of fact, I am completely responsible for your success today. At least that’s what I tell everybody—so don’t you dare tell anybody any different.”

“OK.”

“You know I’m kidding, but really, Dena, aren’t you glad you got over your little theater and artsy phase?”

Dena was confused. “My artsy phase?”

“Oh, don’t you remember how you used to go to that stupid movie house all the time, the one that showed all those weird pictures?”

“Do you mean the Lyric?”

“Yes. You made me go see some old stupid clown picture that wasn’t even in English.”

“
Children of Paradise?
It was French.”

“Well, it was awful, whatever it was. You used to drag me to the craziest places, like I was a rag doll, and I let you. Mother said I had a weak mind and I guess she was right, but we had fun, didn’t we? You used to do the craziest things, always acting like a fool. Remember how much trouble we would get into giggling all night? Remember Judy Horne, the one with the sinus problem? Used to bang on our wall trying to get us to shut up. Remember on Kappa alumni day when you pretended you were a transfer student from Sweden? You wore some funny outfit and had an accent; it was a scream.”

“I did?”

“Yes, oh, and oh, my God—Greek week and that crazy song you wrote for the Kappa skit.”

Dena looked puzzled.

“Oh, you know! You made us all put balloons in our sweaters and we all sang ‘Thanks for the Mammaries.’ We were silly and happy as clams, we’d laugh from morning till night.”

“Really? I remember that you and I had fun but I don’t remember being all that happy all the time.”

“You were; nothing fazed you. You were always happy-go-lucky.”

“I was?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Are you sure?”

“Of course, I was your roommate. I guess I know.”

“That’s funny. I remember being sort of unhappy at school.”

“Oh, you were not! You were just a little moody, that’s all. And I just chalked that up to dramatic temperament; you had all the leads in those awful plays. You used to spend hours over at that theater doing something, all night long, and I’d have to sneak down and leave the back door unlocked for you. You spent so much time over there, everybody thought you had a secret boyfriend and you just wouldn’t tell us. And don’t you remember the night Mitzy McGruder and I—by the way, she’s married now … finally—snuck over to the theater and there you were at two o’clock in the morning prancing all over the stage all by yourself. You’d sing, then you’d laugh, and then you’d dance awhile; it was hysterical, you were a riot. What were you doing?”

Dena shook her head. “Lord knows. Acting, I guess, fooling with the lights. Who knows?”

“Well, whatever you were doing, it paid off. Here you are a big star. Now, tell me who all you’ve met.”

“Like who?”

“Stars. Did you ever meet Tony Curtis?”

“No.”

Sookie was visibly disappointed. “Oh, why don’t you interview him sometime? I’ll bet a lot of people would like to see that. You should listen to me, Dena, I’m the general public.”

Then a heavyset waitress came over and stood staring at Dena and asked her what her name was.

Dena looked up. “Excuse me?”

“What’s your name? Somebody said you were a celebrity or something.”

Sookie was happy to tell her. “This is Dena Nordstrom; you’ve seen her on television.”

The waitress, who had no idea who Dena was, said, “Can I have your autograph then?”

Sookie, an old pro by now, answered, “Sure, you can. Do you have a pencil and a piece of paper?”

The waitress handed Dena her check pad. “Here, put it on the back of this … make it to Billie.”

Billie turned around and yelled, “Thelma, come over here and get her autograph and get Dwayne out of the kitchen!”

Then she asked Sookie, “Can Dwayne have one?”

Sookie said, “Dena, can you do one for Dwayne?” Then Sookie asked the waitress, “Who’s Dwayne?”

“He’s the cook.”

“He’s the cook, Dena; you don’t mind, do you?”

Dena signed the other waitress’s pad. “All right, but tell him to hurry up.”

Billie handed her a piece of paper. “Here, just sign it. He’s busy. I’ll take it to him.”

Dena signed, the waitress took it. “Thank you.”

Sookie was beaming. “Oh, Dena, I feel just like a proud parent. I always knew you were going to be famous. I used to tell you that all the time, didn’t I?”

“You did?”

“Yes, don’t you remember anything?” Sookie looked at her wistfully. “Dena, don’t you miss the good old days? I hate having to be a grown woman. Of course, I wouldn’t take anything for Earle and my girls, but don’t you wish we could go back and not have to worry about anything, just be silly and date? I still remember all my Kappa songs. Do you?”

Dena glanced at her watch and was surprised to see how late it was. “Oh, damn, Sookie, I’ve got to go.”

Sookie wailed, “Oh, no. I feel like I didn’t get all my visit in. We just got started good.”

Dena said, “I know, but we’ll do it again really soon. I promise.”

Sookie suddenly panicked. “Wait! I almost forgot. I have to get a picture of us for the
Kappa Key
.” She rummaged around in her purse and brought out a camera. “It won’t take a second.” She called Billie the waitress over and made her take a photograph of them.

Sookie walked with her out to the limo and hugged her goodbye. “Promise me … promise that if you ever get back south of the Mason-Dixon line, you’ll call me and let me know. Because if you don’t I’ll find out and show up and embarrass you.”

Dena, laughing, got in the car. “I promise.”

“Oh, and listen, if you ever do meet Tony Curtis, tell him he has a big fan in Selma, Alabama.”

“I will.”

As she drove off Sookie waved and called, “Love you!”

On the plane, Dena ordered a Bloody Mary and sat there and thought about the girl Sookie had described. Could it possibly have been her? Could Sookie have been so wrong about her? The girl she thought she remembered had always been a sort of sad, dreamy kid who used to cry a lot, sit for hours staring at the leaves shining through the trees, longing for something so hard that it hurt. But what she had been longing for or where those feelings had gone, Dena did not know. The truth was she could barely remember that girl at all.

She ordered another Bloody Mary and slept all the way to New York.

When Dena was seven her mother got a job at Bergdorf’s in New York City and sent her to boarding school in Connecticut. She hated it—long, empty, dark halls and waiting to see her mother again. After about two months, the Mother Superior wrote a letter to her mother telling her that Dena was not mixing well with the other children. “We expect a certain amount of homesickness from our boarders, especially when the child is an only child, but I am afraid Dena is a hard case. It is clear that the child simply adores you and is terribly unhappy here. We usually encourage parents to allow their children time to get used to a new surrounding, but I am going to make an exception in our policy, and I wonder if she might have more weekends at home?”

Dena loved her mother’s new apartment. It was off Gramercy Park on a pretty street lined with trees. She would sleep on the living room couch. The apartment was on the ground floor with the windows almost at street level. At night the light from the streetlamp on the corner would fill the room full of lacy black patterns on the wall as a breeze caused the leaves to ripple back and forth and dance in the light. Lying there late at night she could hear couples walking past the windows, the hard clunk of a man’s foot and the sharp click
of a woman’s high heels hitting the sidewalk as they passed. She could hear their soft muffled voices, the deep voice of the man and the woman’s laugh. Sometimes she would hear the music on a radio as a car swished by, shining its headlights through the ornate black bars on the windows and turning the small living room into a magical light-and-sound show. She was full of dreams and curiosity. She always wondered where the people were going and where they had been and dreamed of all the wonderful places she might be going someday. She longed to someday live in a white house like the one she often dreamed about. White against a green lawn, and her mother was always smiling. That Christmas her mother had let her come for a whole week. It had been a wonderful visit. Her mother had taken her to Horn & Hardart’s for lunch, where they chose their food out of little glass windows, drank hot coffee, and ate pie. They walked all the way up Fifth Avenue, looking at hundreds of people, Santa Clauses on each corner, and windows full of miniature things swirling and moving to music, then on to Radio City to see the Christmas show, and she sat there with her mouth open, mesmerized by the spectacle of it all. She had never seen a live camel in her life and the Rockettes were dressed in red and gold uniforms and looked like live toy soldiers. She could hardly breathe watching all the lights, fascinated by the way they changed from one color to another, again almost like magic. While other children were watching the show, Dena had turned around in her seat to look at the spotlights that came beaming down all the way from the very back of the auditorium to form perfect circles of bright white light on stage and on the curtains. And if that wasn’t enough, her mother astonished her when she told Dena that she knew one of the Rockettes and that they were going backstage to meet her.