Chapter 24 Jill
Jill
Jill was caught between a rock and a hard place.
Her mother had just told her that she could spend her Saturday morning cheering on her teammates in their swim meet against
the Dolphins or working for Mrs. Smith.
“Her yard men prepped the beds on either side of her driveway yesterday. They even dug the holes for the flowers, but the
flowers weren’t delivered until after the guys left. All you have to do is put the flowers in the holes, cover them with dirt,
and toss the pots in the trash.” Jill’s mother waved a piece of bacon in the air as she spoke. Lady and Tramp tracked the
glistening piece of meat with hopeful eyes. “She offered to pay you twenty dollars an hour because she feels bad about your hand.”
Jill watched her mom split the bacon in half and give a piece to each dog. They chewed once and swallowed, then whined for
more. Looking down at the crispy bacon strip on her plate, Jill’s stomach roiled.
“How does Mrs. Smith know about my hand?”
Her mother shrugged. “She probably saw the bandage. She might not come outside, but her house has windows. Anyway, she called this morning to ask if you and J.J. were free. I told her that J.J. had to go to the swim meet, but you could skip it if you’d rather earn some money.
Or if you think you can swim well with your hand, then you can swim. It’s up to you.”
Jill hadn’t made it past the second sentence. “She called you? Like, on the phone?”
“Yes, and she was perfectly pleasant. She even apologized for being such a standoffish neighbor. She has a rare skin condition,
which made her very shy, but after trying new medicine, she’s completely cured. She said she doesn’t want to waste another
minute hiding in her house, and wants to get to know her neighbors. She’s actually going to the yacht club cocktail party
tonight. I’ll finally get to see what she looks like.”
Jill’s head was spinning.
Mrs. Smith had called her mom.
Mrs. Smith was coming out of her house.
“Another few hours of work, and you’ll be able to buy that typewriter.” Jill’s mom gave her a conspiratorial smile. “We’re
both working to get the things we want. Isn’t that great?”
The pleasure of her mother’s approval was intoxicating, and suddenly, Jill was smiling, too. “What time does she want me to
start?”
“Whenever you want. You’re supposed to keep track of your hours. If you’d like to do extra work after you finish the flowers,
she said to weed the small beds in the back garden. Do you know what she means?”
The spaces between the brick paths, Jill thought. The ones around the woman’s face.
“Charles isn’t swimming in today’s meet, either. I have no idea why, but when I told Mrs. Bernstein about Mrs. Smith’s phone
call, she said Charles might come over and hang out with you.” Her mother pulled a face. “Get him to help you. That boy needs
to get his hands dirty.”
Before Jill left, her mom wrapped her hand in a clean Ace bandage and gave her a new pair of gardening gloves. “We want this to heal before the bar mitzvah. If I sell the McCreedy house, you and I will both get new dresses for the party. How does that sound?”
“Good,” said Jill. For once, she wanted a new dress. She wanted the prettiest dress she could find.
Ever since she heard that Aaron was going to the party, she’d been fantasizing about making him fall for her. She pictured
herself stepping onto the dance floor when suddenly, a spotlight would snap on, illuminating her white dress and the white
ribbons in her hair. There she’d stand, glowing like Olivia Newton-John in Xanadu. All the kids would fall silent, dazzled by her beauty.
In her fantasy, Aaron would surge forward, determined to reach her before anyone else could. While the other kids watched,
he’d take her hand and lead her away from the dance floor to a private place where they could still hear the music.
In this secluded nook, Aaron would smile at Jill. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and whisper, “I’ve liked you forever.”
Then he’d lean over, almost in slow motion, and kiss her. His lips would be soft as velvet. He would taste like sugar.
“Jill!” her mother barked. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Jill shook her head.
“I told you to have peanut butter and jelly and a pear or baby carrots for lunch. No sweets.”
Twenty minutes later, Jill was sitting on the curb in front of Mrs. Smith’s house, planting impatiens. The holes were so close
together that no dirt would be visible when she was done, only a sea of pink, white, purple, and red petals.
Jill had finished the first bed and was starting on the second when Charles and his mother exited their house, heading in
her direction.
Mrs. Bernstein paused at her mailbox and waved at Jill. “You’re doing a lovely job.” She shielded her eyes against the sun. “Do you need a drink? It’s awfully hot out today.”
“I have water.” Jill pointed at the orange thermos near her feet.
“Well, Charles will be happy to get you some lemonade if you change your mind. You just say the word. Did your mom tell you
when to water the flowers?”
Charles looked like he’d rather be beamed aboard the Starship Enterprise than spend another second standing close to Jill while his mother prattled on about the best time of day to water impatiens.
Finally, Mrs. Bernstein seemed to remember the mail. As she reached out to open the mailbox, a sleek convertible came roaring
around the last bend in the road and screeched to a stop in front of Mrs. Smith’s driveway. Mrs. Pulaski jumped out of the
car. She wore big sunglasses, a cherry-red dress, and lipstick that matched her outfit. Jill thought she looked like a movie
star.
Mrs. Pulaski grabbed a plate of cookies from the passenger seat and came over to admire the flower beds. “This looks so nice!
I heard that Mrs. Smith wants to meet her neighbors, so I brought her some of my Christmas in July cookies.”
Charles peered at the silver plate with interest. “Are they Polish?”
“Yes, but they’re not for either of you.” Her voice was unusually stern. “Even if she offers you one, don’t take it. I added an ingredient that
isn’t for kids. If you get sick, I’ll get in trouble with your parents, so promise me you won’t have a single bite. If you
promise, I’ll bake a batch just for you. Do we have deal?”
Jill and Charles exchanged confused looks but readily agreed.
Mrs. Bernstein glided over, her arms held out to Mrs. Pulaski. “Aren’t you gorgeous! What’s the occasion?”
“Well, after Natalie told me she saw Don in a car with a strange brunette, I thought I’d introduce myself to the woman who’s
fucking my husband.”
Mrs. Bernstein put a hand to her heart. “Beth! Not in front of the kids!”
Mrs. Pulaski glanced at Jill and Charles before moving closer to Mrs. Bernstein.
“Oh, of course. You’d never swear in front of your kid. Not Elaine Bernstein, the perfect mom.” Her voice rose in anger. “But I don’t have kids,
remember? I might never have them! I might always be poor little childless Beth. The only woman in the room who can’t talk about swim team or PTA
meetings or sleepovers. Who doesn’t have a labor story or a breastfeeding story or a first-day-of-kindergarten story. All
Beth has is her marriage. And now that’s turned to shit! Because of that woman!”
Mrs. Bernstein reached out to stop Mrs. Pulaski. “Please don’t do this. Charles’s party is in two weeks. She could revoke
her permission. She could—”
“Jesus Christ, Elaine! All you care about is this fucking party. No matter how many checks you write, there are some things you can’t buy. Like happiness or love or friends for your son!”
Mrs. Bernstein looked like she’d been slapped, but Mrs. Pulaski didn’t seem to care. She clenched her jaw, stormed up to Mrs.
Smith’s gate, and slipped through the opening. Then she marched up to the front door and rang the bell.
Jill held her breath. Was she about to see Mrs. Smith for the first time? Would she answer the door? And if she did, what would happen? Mrs. Pulaski was an unpinned grenade. What was she going to do? Shout at Mrs. Smith? Throw the cookies at her?
The tension was almost unbearable, but Jill couldn’t look away. She knelt in the dirt, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the front
porch.
When nothing happened, Mrs. Pulaski knocked on the door. Again, she waited. She knocked again, harder this time.
And just when Jill thought Mrs. Pulaski was ready to give up, the door cracked open.
From her vantage point, Jill could see only Mrs. Pulaski. She heard the murmur of women’s voices but couldn’t make out any
of the words. Mrs. Pulaski didn’t raise her voice. If anything, she sounded friendly.
And then, an arm snaked out through the opening. It seemed very long and pale to Jill. A hand closed around the cookie plate
and instantly withdrew back into the gloom. The door closed with an audible thud. Mrs. Pulaski marched back to her car. Without
looking at Jill or Charles, she gunned the engine and drove away.
As soon as the convertible disappeared around the bend, Mrs. Bernstein hurried into her house.
Jill picked up an impatiens and eased it out of the pot. Keeping her eyes on the soil, she whispered, “Did you see anything?”
Charles took the plant from her and put it in the ground. “No.”
They didn’t speak again until the flower beds were done. The work hadn’t taken very long, which left Jill with a decision
to make.
She wanted to earn more money, but she didn’t want to be in the backyard alone. Everyone knew Charles was a wimp, and Jill wasn’t looking to him for protection, but if he stayed, there’d be another pair of eyes to watch Mrs. Smith’s house and another pair of ears to listen for suspicious sounds.
“Want to see the back garden?” she asked Charles. “That’s where the face is.”
Too curious to turn her down, Charles grabbed the box of black trash bags and followed Jill through the garden door. When
he saw the stone face, he paled.
“She’s gotta be a monster.”