In The Unlikely Event Part 28

"It's an opportunity, Corinne."

"It's not one I choose to take."

"Suppose I say I want to do this?"

"There are many things in life we'd like to do, Arthur, but we don't because we consider the needs of those we love above everything else."

"We don't have to sell the house right away," her father said. "We can give it two years."

"What about your practice here-who's going to wait two years for their next appointment?"

"I've been thinking about bringing in a partner, or selling the practice. I've got a good offer from Myron Ludell."

"No," Corinne said. "It's a commitment I'm not prepared to make."

"And what if I say I'm going anyway?" Her father's voice turned angry.

"Is that what you're saying? Because if it is, you're going alone. I'm not going to let you take the children."

Natalie let herself doze. Dozing wasn't exactly sleeping. Dozing meant she could come awake whenever she wanted. Dozing meant she couldn't die.

Sometime later, after they'd come through the Lincoln Tunnel, her mother raised her voice, waking her. "It's all your fault," she cried, and for a minute Natalie thought Corinne was blaming her. "You and your crazy ideas. Las Vegas-some hick town in the desert. How many Jews are there in Las Vegas?"

"There will be more and more Jews," her father told her mother.

"Gangster Jews."

"Doctors, lawyers, accountants, businessmen. They're already constructing a medical arts center. It will be finished by the end of the school year. I'll have a beautiful office with the latest equipment, and plenty of patients to pay the bills. Daisy is willing to come."

"Daisy!" her mother said. "You've already talked to Daisy? Daisy before me? Well, that proves it. I've always suspected but until now I wasn't sure. You and Daisy-"

"That's ridiculous and you know it," her father said, his voice rising.

"Is it?"

The car swerved.

"Arthur!" Corinne shouted.

Had they forgotten Natalie was in the backseat?

Her father pulled off the road onto the shoulder, got out and slammed the door. He paced up and down, lighting a cigarette.

Her mother cried softly, then blew her nose. Natalie thought it best to keep quiet.

When her father returned to the car, he said, "I know this is the right thing to do for Natalie. Get her mind off...get her out in the fresh air."

"And what about her dancing?"

"There will be cla.s.ses there."

"How do you know?"

"Entertainers have cla.s.ses. And since when do we want to encourage her to pursue this c.o.c.kamamie idea she has of becoming the next Ruby Keeler?"

Natalie held her breath when he said "Ruby"-how did he know? How could he possibly know?-but when he said "Keeler," Natalie understood he had no idea about her Ruby.

"We have to save her, Corinne."

"If we can't save her here, how can we save her there?"

"We have to try. I'm begging you to reconsider."

"And I'm begging you to forget this crazy idea. Who's behind it-Longy? And when it fails-and you come home begging for forgiveness-and there's nothing left of your practice or our marriage, then what? How will we live? How will we pay for treatment for Natalie, send Steve to college and Fern to Vail-Deane? You expect my family to support us? You've always resented my family money but now, all of a sudden, it smells clean to you? You're a fool, Arthur. I never thought I'd say that but it's the truth."

"I don't think you understand, Corinne. Natalie is very sick. If we don't do something we could lose her."

Corinne breathed in, teared up, waved a hand at her husband. "Don't ever say that again! There's nothing wrong with her. She's just sensitive. It's all been too hard on her. That's why she stopped eating."

"And I'm saying get her out of here so she doesn't have to worry about planes cras.h.i.+ng into houses, into schools, so she doesn't have to think about death and dying."

Natalie slumped to the floor of the car, her hands over her ears.

Elizabeth Daily Post

FATHER OF ELIZABETH CRASH VICTIM SUES FOR $250,000.

FEB. 18-Thomas Granik of Sunnyside, L.I., filed suit today in Federal Court against Miami Airlines, Inc., for the death of his daughter, Ruby. She was a pa.s.senger in the airplane that crashed on Dec. 16 in Elizabeth. Mr. Granik said that the 22-year-old woman, a nightclub dancer, was the sole support of his family.

25.

Miri At school the following Monday, as Eleanor and Miri walked to English cla.s.s together, Eleanor asked, "Are you still best friends with Natalie?"

Miri hesitated. "Yes," she said, but the truth was, she wasn't sure.

"Why was she absent all last week and again today?"

"I don't know. When I saw her last Sunday she wasn't feeling well."

"Have you talked to her?"

"No."

"Her parents?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I've called a bunch of times but there's never any answer." She didn't say she'd talked to Steve or that she hadn't believed a word of what he'd said.

"I don't like the way this sounds," Eleanor said. "Why don't we just go over, ring the bell and ask what's going on?"

"I don't think that's the best idea. I think if they wanted us to know, they'd tell us."

She could see Eleanor digesting that. "Maybe you're right. Anyway, we've got a paper to put to bed."

Miri said, "I meant to tell you, I wrote a feature story." She hadn't planned to say anything about the story she'd started on the night of the meeting at City Hall.

"What's it about?"

"The situation."

"You mean the situation?"

"Yes, that. Not about Natalie."

"When can I see it?"

"I'll clean it up tonight and bring it in tomorrow."

"Good. We could use an interesting story about the situation."

- THAT NIGHT Miri took the story she'd written from her desk drawer. Her own indignation spilled out as she quickly made changes, adding the latest crash to the story. She copied it over in ink. Then she took a bath, using Rusty's citrus bath salts. She slept well for the first time in a long time.

The next morning she handed the story to Eleanor. When they met in the cafeteria at lunchtime Eleanor said, "I like it. It makes you think. We can get it into the spring issue if we hurry. I'll run it by Tiny this afternoon."

Later, Tiny took Miri aside in homeroom. "Good story, Miri," she said. "Provocative."

"Thank you," Miri said. She wasn't sure provocative was a compliment but good story was.

"I'll have to show it to Mr. Royer."

"Mr. Royer...why?"

"As princ.i.p.al he has a veto over controversial stories."

"You think my story is controversial?"

Tiny smiled. "Don't you?" She didn't wait for Miri to answer. "But I'm on your side, so stop worrying."

Until then she hadn't been worrying.

- ON WEDNESDAY, Tiny reported to Miri that after reading her story Mr. Royer said they couldn't run it in Hamilton Headlines.

Miri was speechless.

"He doesn't think it's appropriate. It could be seen as inflammatory."

When Miri still didn't respond, Tiny said, "I'm so sorry, Miri. I tried to explain but he was adamant. No stories about the crashes."

"That's crazy!" Miri said, finding her voice. "All the kids are talking about it. He can't pretend those airplanes didn't crash."

"I think he's concerned about how the parents might react."

"The parents? They don't read our paper."

"All it takes is one parent to start an uproar."

"Does that mean we're not supposed to have opinions?"

"I understand what you're saying and I agree with you. But I can't risk my job."

"Your job?"

"Yes. That's how it works. I'm a teacher. Mr. Royer is my boss."

"Then who stands up for us, the students?"

Tiny shook her head. "Welcome to the real world."

- "I WROTE a story about the crashes for the school paper," Miri told Henry at dinner. It was one of the rare nights Henry was home in time to eat with them. "Mrs. Wallace, the adviser to the paper, called it 'provocative.'"

"Provocative!" Ben Sapphire said. "We need more provocative thinkers. Don't you agree, Henry?"

Henry glanced at Ben but didn't respond.

"She showed it to the princ.i.p.al," Miri continued. "He vetoed it, said it was inflammatory."

"Inflammatory!" Ben Sapphire said. "This is sounding better and better." Irene put her hand over Ben's, letting him know he should keep quiet. Miri didn't miss the gesture.