In the Unlikely Event

If her father knew she’d met Longy Zwillman, New Jersey’s most notorious gangster, at Dr. O’s office, let alone held a dental mirror in his mouth, she didn’t know what he’d do. But it wouldn’t be good. Now that Longy had a fancy society wife, two children, and lived in an ivy-covered mansion in West Orange, he was considered a wealthy businessman, not a gangster. He was active in the community, philanthropic, giving money to synagogues and other Jewish charities. No more talk of murder or other crimes. Still, everyone in her parents’ generation knew about him.

We don’t discuss what happens in the office, Daisy always reminded her. Daisy Dupree had worked as Dr. O’s secretary forever, since he set up his dental practice nearly twenty years ago. She was considered family by the Osners. Christina was learning from Daisy how to be discreet. Discretion. A word most of her classmates had never heard, and certainly never practiced.

Yesterday, Daisy had taken her aside to explain the rules for this year’s holiday outing. “Mrs. Osner has imposed a moratorium on crash talk,” Daisy said. “And, Christina…why don’t you wear the sweater set Mrs. Osner gave you for your birthday? I know she’d like to see it on you.”

She’d be happy to wear the sweater set. It was beautiful. Mrs. Osner’s gifts always were. As for happy talk, she could do that. Who wanted to talk about the crash, anyway? Who wanted to think that only eight people could be identified by their faces? Only eight. They all needed a break, didn’t they?

—

THE TRIP FROM ELIZABETH to New York on the train took twenty-three minutes, with one stop in Newark. Christina brought along her knitting. She was making argyle socks for Jack for Christmas. The contrasting colors hung on dangling bobbins, not easy to keep straight on a herky-jerky train. She couldn’t work on them at home, except alone in her bedroom, because everyone knew you knitted argyle socks only for a boyfriend. When she was with the family she worked on the scarf she was knitting for Jack’s younger brother, Mason, or the matching coat for Mason’s dog, Fred. If Mama asked, Who is that for, Christina? she could say it was for Mr. Durkee, her favorite teacher, and Mama would approve.

Daisy, who was sitting next to her on the train, leaned over and said, “I love those socks!”

“They’re for Jack.” Daisy knew Christina had a boyfriend. She’d met him once, when he’d brought his brother to the office. Christina was proud of Jack. He knew how to shake hands and look a person right in the eye. Plus, he had a great smile without ever having had orthodontia. She couldn’t tell Mama or Baba about Jack because he wasn’t Greek, which was too bad, because she was sure they’d like him.

“Lucky Jack!” Daisy said. Then she went back to the book she was reading. Christina couldn’t see the title because Daisy covered her books in oilcloth to keep them clean, the same pattern as the covering on the kitchen table at Christina’s house.

This year Natalie brought her friend Miri on the holiday outing, and the two girls sat together in their matching camel-hair coats, yakking away. They seemed so young to Christina, even though she knew they’d be in tenth grade at Battin next year. Had she been that young three years ago? She didn’t think so.

Steve was reading that new book The Catcher in the Rye. Christina had no idea what the title meant. Some of the girls at school went on dates to Staten Island, where you could be legally served at eighteen. Some of them had fake IDs. They drank rye-and-ginger ales. Maybe that’s what the title meant. The Catcher in the Rye and Ginger Ale. The idea made her laugh. If she wanted to know more she’d have to go to the public library and reserve a copy of the book. Maybe she would.

The train swerved, causing Christina to drop a stitch. She rested her knitting on her lap and looked over at Mrs. Osner, who sat with Fern. She didn’t get why they let Fern drag that cowboy bunny everywhere, and even worse, let her tell people he had no penis. In Christina’s family Fern would get her mouth washed out with soap just for saying that word out loud.

Mrs. Osner was wearing her mink coat and alligator pumps. She carried a matching alligator pocketbook. A small mink hat was perched on top of her short blond hair. Her nails were perfectly manicured. She used just a touch of makeup to accent her eyes and a bit of rouge to give her a healthy glow. Christina couldn’t help imagining Mrs. Osner’s underwear. She’d grown up playing on the floor of her mother’s shop, Nia’s Lingerie, with the packing boxes from the girdles and brassieres as her toys. She’d watched as her mother had gently guided excess flesh into boned and padded girdles, lifted sagging breasts into brassiere cups, telling each customer to take a big breath and hold it as she hooked the bottoms of the brassieres into the tops of the girdles. But Mrs. Osner was trim and probably wore just a panty girdle, bra and slip. No bones or hooks for her.

She shifted in her seat and picked up her knitting. She felt bloated. She’d doubled her pads, sprinkled them with baby powder, and neatly pinned them to her sanitary belt. Her mother had forbidden her to use Tampax until after she was safely married. “It could spoil you,” Mama said. Christina got the message. It’s good her mother didn’t know how far she’d already gone with Jack.

—

EVERY YEAR their first stop in the city was lining up to see the Christmas windows at Lord & Taylor, followed by the viewing of the huge, beautiful tree at Rockefeller Center and the skaters in the rink below. Christina sometimes skated on the frozen pond in Warinanco Park, but she had never worn a velvet skating skirt or learned to twirl with her head tilted back.

Then it was time for lunch at Lindy’s. Christina had learned to order a hot turkey platter, something she could eat with a knife and fork, instead of one of their signature sandwiches piled high with corned beef and pastrami.

She was glad she’d taken Daisy’s advice and worn the sweater set Mrs. Osner had given her on her last birthday. Mrs. Osner was pleased to see it. “That style suits you, Christina. And I like the collar.”

“My grandmother embroidered it for me.” All the girls at school were envious of Christina’s collar collection. Yaya embroidered them with tiny flowers to match her sweaters.

“An elegant touch,” Mrs. Osner said.

She wasn’t sure Mrs. Osner meant it but Daisy had taught her you never second-guess a compliment. She was lucky to have a grown-up friend like Daisy to help her navigate the world that was waiting on the other side of high school. When she looked over at Daisy, Daisy smiled at her.

—

CHRISTINA RELAXED for the first time that day when, finally, it was time for the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. She sank back into the plush red seat and let her eyes close for a minute. The movie was I’ll See You in My Dreams with Doris Day and Danny Thomas. She loved Doris Day. If Christina could be anyone, she might be Doris Day. Doris was so perky and had such a good voice. Christina sang in the shower, pretending to be Doris, belting out one song after the other. But she knew she didn’t sound anything like her, no matter how hard she tried.

After the show they made a stop at Hanson’s, the drugstore where Ruby Granik hung out before she got on the plane. Even though they weren’t supposed to talk about the crash today, a visit to Hanson’s was the one thing Natalie wanted for Hanukkah—that and dance classes in New York.

Christina needed another Midol. She needed to get to the ladies’ room to change her pads.

Daisy

Daisy had three thoughts on the train coming back from New York.

One: She could see plain as day that to Christina, the holiday outing was a chore, something to get through without appearing to be suffering. She understood her discomfort around the Osner family. What did Christina have in common with any of them? She and Steve might be the same age, but they’d never gone to school together and didn’t share the same friends. And to Christina, Natalie was a child. She didn’t seem smitten by little Fern, either, though personally, Daisy found Fern irresistible.

But she appreciated the effort Christina was making, going overboard in telling Corinne and Dr. O how much she’d enjoyed the movie, how Doris Day was her all-time favorite movie star, how the songs in the movie were so beautiful she’d be humming them in the shower for years to come. When she compared the ice cream at Hanson’s to the homemade ice cream at Schutt’s in Elizabeth, Daisy put an arm around her shoulder to gently shut her up.

In all her years with Dr. O, Daisy had never allowed herself to grow emotionally attached to the young assistants who came and went, working a few years before marrying, having babies, then sending pictures of their growing families every Christmas. But she had to admit, she felt maternal toward Christina. She could not imagine having a better daughter. Kind, loyal, bright, hardworking. She had to hand it to her parents for raising such a fine young lady. She knew Christina’s father from his restaurant. Most days she’d go down to Three Brothers to get Dr. O a sandwich and coffee for lunch. He’d eat in his tiny lab, sitting on a high stool, thumbing through the lastest issue of Esquire or one of the other magazines he subscribed to. She brought her lunch from home and ate at her desk, between patients.

Recently, Dr. O had asked her about Christina’s boyfriend. She told him Jack McKittrick struck her as a fine young man, an electrician with a good future. He was responsible and mature for his years.