The woman snorted. “I can tell you what sort of man he is. No better than the rest.” But she released the Golem back to her duties, and confined all further protests to dark looks.
Finally the day ended, and the Golem went home and put on her new shirtwaist. The combs were trickier than she’d thought, but before long she’d arranged her hair to her satisfaction. She went to the address Anna had given her, and the door was thrown open at her knock. “You came!” Anna cried in surprise, as though the Golem hadn’t promised her half a dozen times. She beckoned the Golem inside. “You look so lovely with your hair like that—oh, and let me see your shirtwaist! Beautiful!”
In the parlor two young women stood in their underclothes, sorting through a pile of garments. Their chatter stopped as Anna burst in, trailing the Golem behind her. “Girls, this is Chava. Be nice to her, she’s shy. Chava, this is Phyllis, and that’s Estelle.”
The Golem froze beneath their curious gazes, fighting down sudden panic. How could she have thought she was ready to do this, to pass as a woman among women? What could possibly have possessed her?
But the women smiled at her, welcoming. “Chava, so nice to meet you! Anna’s told us all about you. Come here, help us pick out what to wear,” said one of them—Phyllis? “I think this waist fits me better, but I just adore the buttons on this one.”
“I’m wearing that one,” the other girl said.
“It’s too tight on you!”
“It certainly is not!”
Tentatively the Golem joined them, unsure of the etiquette. Should she undress as well? No, they seemed to think it was perfectly natural for her to stand there in hat and boots while they tried on various pieces and then flung them off again. At length they noticed her shirtwaist, and gasped and cooed over it, and begged her to tell them where she’d gotten it. The attention unnerved her, but it was so honestly friendly that she began to relax, even to smile.
All at once she noticed that Anna had disappeared. “Where’s Anna?”
Phyllis and Estelle grew quiet and leaned their heads toward her, concerned and conspiratorial. “In the water closet. She won’t let us see her get dressed,” Estelle said. “I think she’s embarrassed.”
“She’s been crying, too,” Phyllis said. “He was supposed to come calling last night, and he didn’t.”
“But he’s coming tonight, isn’t he?”
The girls glanced at each other; but just then Anna entered in her usual flurry, dressed in a full-skirted suit that fit tightly at the seams. On her head she wore an enormous straw hat, topped by a quivering, somewhat shabby willow-plume.
“Are we ready?” she said brightly. “Then let’s be off!”
The Golem wanted to stay on the periphery of the evening, but on the way to the hall it grew clear that Anna and her friends intended to make her its focus. They clustered around her, peppering her with instructions and advice. “Don’t be too eager, but then don’t be too choosy,” they said. “Don’t dance all night with the first one who asks. And if you dislike the look of a man, say no. Stand your ground if he comes on too fresh.”
“It’s all right,” said Anna, seeing the Golem’s panicked look. “We’ll take it in turns to watch out for you, won’t we?” The girls nodded, giggled, squeezed her arm; and the Golem resigned herself to the evening.
They neared their destination, and were caught up in a crowd of well-dressed young women and men, all funneling toward a nondescript Broome Street door. The Golem could hear music. She felt herself pushed and jostled, in her mind as well as her body. Fortunately the crowd was in a good mood, cheerful and flirtatious; the women exclaimed over one another’s finery while the men joked and sipped from flasks.
A large man sat on a stool next to the door, collecting the admission: fifteen cents for the ladies, a quarter for the men. “That’s Mendel,” Anna said. She waved, and flashed him a dazzling smile. Mendel grinned back, a bit stupefied, and waved them through. “He’s carried a torch for me for years,” Anna whispered.
Through the door was a dark hallway, full of bodies, all pressing forward. For a moment the Golem began to panic, thinking she would crush someone by accident. Then the eager crowd surged behind her—and the Golem was propelled into the most amazing room she’d ever seen. Enormous, high-ceilinged, it swallowed the crowds eagerly. Brass chandeliers hung with cut-glass pendants cast a flickering dazzle on the people below. The walls glittered with gas lamps and candelabra, multiplied by mirrored columns. It looked like a twinkling fairyland that stretched on and on.
The Golem stared, enthralled. Any other time, a crowd of this size might have overwhelmed her; but the sheer unanticipated spectacle, and the uniform high spirits of the dance-goers, tempered her anxiety with something that felt very like delight.
“What do you think?” Estelle nearly had to shout into the Golem’s ear to be heard. “Do you like it?”
The Golem could only nod.
Anna laughed. “I told you so. Now come on, before all the good tables are taken.”
They passed a long wooden bar stocked with bottles and growlers. Beyond were rows of round, cloth-draped tables. Jacketed waiters passed among the tables, to the bar and back again, their trays laden with beer. The rest of the room was an open expanse of wooden parquet, on which men and women were already congregating. The band sat on a raised stage in a corner. A plump man in faded tails stood in front of them, beating the air with a thin baton.
The Golem followed Anna and her friends to a table at the edge of the dance floor. Soon they were inundated with acquaintances, all hugging and laughing and exchanging gossip. Anna, clearly enjoying her role as the Golem’s shepherdess, made sure that everyone was introduced to her. The Golem said hello a dozen times, smiled, learned everyone’s names. She was a bit slow to make small talk, but that was easily forgiven: it was her first dance, and they all remembered what it was like. Someone whispered that she was a widow, and instantly her quiet manner was transmuted to an air of sad, romantic mystery.
After a short break the band struck up again, and the dancing began in earnest. As the Golem watched, pairs of women took to the floor, clasping each other at shoulder and waist. They danced in small step-hopping circles, skirts and ruffles bouncing, and glanced over each other’s shoulders at the men who now ringed the edges of the dance floor.
“Look at them,” said Estelle to the Golem, indicating two men on the periphery. “They’re gathering their courage.” Sure enough, the men walked out onto the dance floor and approached two of the dancing women. Smiling, the women let go of each other, and took up with their new partners.
“You see?” said Estelle. “That’s how it’s done. Now it’s your turn.” She took the Golem’s hand and made to drag her onto the floor.
“But—”
“Come on!”
It was no use, she dared not resist: if Estelle pulled on the Golem’s arm much longer the girl might notice how very immovable she was. So she followed Estelle onto the floor, suddenly mindful of all the eyes.
Estelle faced the Golem and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re so tall, you’ll have to lead!” She laughed. “Here, hold me.” She placed the Golem’s hand on her own slim waist. “I’m going to teach you the two-step. Now do what I do, except backward.”
As it turned out, the Golem made a very good dancing student. At first she moved awkwardly, afraid to tread on Estelle’s toes—but within minutes she was easily mirroring her teacher’s moves, aided by her feel for what Estelle wanted her to do. Soon she didn’t even need to look at her feet. She was a bit stiff perhaps, but all Estelle noticed was the progress. “Chava, you’re a natural-born dancer!” she said.
“You think so?”
“I know so. And don’t look now, but I think Anna is telling those boys to dance with us.”
“What? Who?” Sure enough, Anna was talking to a pair of young men, one tall and one small, in jackets and porkpie hats. Both men were looking their way. The smaller one nudged the
taller one, and they strolled around the table toward the dance floor. The Golem threw Anna a look of desperation, but the girl only waved, laughing.
“Don’t worry,” Estelle said. “I know them, they’re nice boys. You take the taller one, Jerry. He’s a lummox, but he’s sweet. His friend’s a little grabby sometimes. Don’t worry, I can handle him.”
The Golem felt the men approach. The taller one—Jerry?—wanted mainly to make it through the evening without being laughed at. The smaller one nurtured the hope of a romantic interlude in the alley outside. Both men were eager to dance.
There came the tap on her shoulder. Reluctantly she let go of Estelle, who gave her hand a comforting squeeze before turning to face her partner. The taller man gave her a shy grin. “I’m Jerry,” he said.
“I’m Chava.”
“Nice to meet you, Chava. I hear you’re new at this.”
“Yes. Very new.”
“S’all right, I’m no good at it neither.”
There was some confusion as each reached for the other’s waist, and then the Golem remembered that the man was supposed to lead. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, and put her other hand in his.
“Gosh, you got cold fingers,” he said, and they were off.
Jerry, it transpired, wasn’t being falsely modest. He had trouble keeping time, and was too busy concentrating on his feet to lead her very well. It wasn’t long before the other dancers were giving them a wide berth. But he was a gentlemanly partner, and kept his hand clasped at her waist without letting it drift slowly south, as she’d noticed other men doing. She felt him fight down a mild fear of conversation. “So you’re a friend of Anna’s,” he said.
“I work with her at the bakery,” said the Golem. “How do you know her?”
“Oh, from around,” he said. “Everyone knows Anna. But, not in a bad way,” he added hastily. “She’s not, y’know, one of those girls.”
“Of course not,” she replied, vaguely sensing what he meant. “I only thought you might be a friend of Irving’s. Her fiancé.”
Surprise registered on his face. “They’re engaged?”
“Yes, very recently. I suppose the news hasn’t spread yet.”
“Huh. Whaddya know,” Jerry said.
“You’re surprised?”
“Yeah, a little. Irving don’t seem like the marrying kind. But hey,” he said, smiling, “we all gotta settle down someday, right?”
She made no answer, only smiled back. Jerry’s friend went sailing past, Estelle on his arm; Estelle gave her encouraging glances over her partner’s shoulder.
“You’re really good at this,” Jerry said. “You sure you just learned?”
The song ended, and the dancers all turned and applauded the musicians. The man with the baton announced a short break, and the dancers drifted back toward the tables, where the waiters descended on them with their growlers of beer.
At their table, Anna was beaming. “Chava, you liar! You said you’d never danced before!”
“I hadn’t, honestly,” the Golem said. “Estelle’s a very good teacher.”
“No, I told you, you’re just a natural-born dancer.” Estelle had come back with Jerry’s friend and now spoke from a precarious perch on the young man’s knee.
“But I still have to look at my feet sometimes,” the Golem said.
“Aw hell, I look at my feet and I’ve been dancing for years,” said Jerry, and his friend snorted.
“Chava never misses a chance to cut herself down,” said Anna, wiping beer foam from her lips. “Learn to take a compliment, girl!”
Faced with this barrage of support, the Golem had to relent. “All right, I’ll admit it. I’m good at dancing.”
“I’ll drink to that!” said Estelle, lifting her beer. Anna drank too, and smiled across at the Golem. The table conversation dissolved into a mix of gossip, flirtation, and friendly teasing, and the Golem sat in the middle, feeling strangely pleased. It was such an unaccustomed sensation, to be surrounded by people enjoying themselves. There were needs and fears, of course; everyone had hopes for the evening, and many feared going home alone, or dreaded the workday to come. And the Golem noticed that Anna’s attention often left the table, to look for Irving’s face in the crowd. But even that nagging anticipation was softened by drink and conversation, and the glitter of their surroundings. Mrs. Radzin’s warnings now seemed mean-spirited, even laughable.
The band began again, and this time it was Phyllis who grabbed the Golem’s hands, and danced with her until two men cut in. Her new partner was a much better dancer than Jerry, and he wanted to show off. He led her in a variety of complicated moves, but she found she was able to mimic them easily, led by his cues. Surprised and pleased by his partner’s adaptability, the young man’s thoughts turned more amorous; he spun her away, and when they came back together, his hand was on her bottom.
Instantly she wanted to freeze, make an excuse, run from the floor. But after a moment’s hesitation she merely did what she’d seen the other girls do: she lifted his hand from where it had wandered and replaced it firmly on her waist. After that he restrained himself. When the dance was over, he thanked her and then left to seek a more pliable partner. She felt oddly elated, as though she’d won some small but necessary battle.
“Good,” said Estelle when the Golem told her what had happened. “Don’t let men like that ruin your evening. If he doesn’t take the hint, just step away and find one of us. We’ll give him a cursing out!”
The next hour was a blur. She sat, she danced, she listened to the chatter and smiled at the jokes. The evening was in full swing; the band seemed never to stop playing. Three more men asked her to dance, the last an inebriated boy a foot shorter than her who kept stepping on her feet. She was trying to decide what to do about it when Jerry stepped in and shooed him away.
“Thank you,” she said, relieved.
He was grinning. “I woulda cut in earlier, but he looked pretty funny peeking up over your shoulder. Anna nearly busted her gut.” Indeed the young woman was still giggling so hard she looked in danger of falling off her chair.
“I hope Irving gets here soon,” she said. “I’d like to see Anna dance.”
“Yeah,” Jerry said. “Hey, Chava, d’you think—”
But then whatever Jerry might have asked her was lost, as their two-step took the Golem within sight of the large, ornate clock hanging on the wall behind him, a clock whose hands were already long past eleven.
“No!” she cried. How had so much time passed without her noticing? She turned from the confused Jerry and hurried back to the table to fetch her cloak. “I’m sorry, Anna, I have to go!”
Anna and her friends immediately protested. What could she possibly be late for? Didn’t she want to meet Irving? “You’re having too much fun to leave!” said Anna. But the Golem couldn’t stand the thought of the Jinni waiting for her, thinking she’d forgotten him.
Maybe, she thought suddenly, she didn’t have to choose. She looked at the faces of her newfound friends, and the beauty of the hall around them. Perhaps, this once, it was her turn to show him something new.
“Don’t worry,” she told them. “I’ll be right back.”
Impossible as it seemed, the Golem wasn’t at home.
The Jinni scowled up at her window, caught between irritation and concern. Where else could she be? Not still at work, surely, and as far as the Jinni knew there were only two places in her life, the bakery and the boardinghouse. Even if she’d lost track of the day, she should still be sitting above him, working by candlelight on her interminable repairs. Certainly she wouldn’t have gone out on her own, not with her horror of impropriety. And even if she had, she’d have left him a note, a sign, something. Wouldn’t she?
To add insult to irritation, he’d finally made up his mind to take her to Washington Street and show her the tin ceiling. Already it was becoming a local attraction. At least one visitor could usually be found gawking up at it. The nei
ghborhood’s Arabic broadsheet had even mentioned it, calling it a “proud civic achievement by a local artisan.”
Of course, now the entire decision seemed to be moot. He felt absurdly like a pet dog leashed to a fence post. Did she expect him to hold vigil all night?
There was a noise of pounding footsteps. From down the street, a woman came running. It was the Golem, and she was alone. She ran, if not with the inhuman speed she’d shown in the park, then with an excited urgency that bordered on carelessness. She dashed past two startled men; one of them shouted something after her, but she didn’t appear even to notice. “I’m late, I’m so sorry!” she called as she neared. And then, with a simple ceasing of motion, she was standing at his side.
He stared at her, astonished. Why did she look so different? He saw the combs in her hair, the ruffles of the new shirtwaist, but there was something else. Then he realized: she was happy. Her eyes were sparkling, her features animated; she was leaning toward him, smiling, full of eager confidence.
“I’m sorry, I was at a dance hall! Will you come back with me? Please say you will. Anna and her friends are there, and I want you to meet them. And you must see the hall, it’s beautiful!”
A dance hall? Who was this woman? “But I don’t dance,” he said, bemused.
“That’s all right, I can teach you.”
And so he forgot about the ceiling and consented to follow along beside her, feeling half-caught up in her newfound exuberance. Whatever it was that had done this to her, he supposed it must be worth a look. Apparently he was walking too slowly for her, for she grabbed his hand and began to practically pull him along. “Is the dance hall on fire?” he asked.
“No, but I promised I’d be right back. And Irving must be there by now. He’s Anna’s—oh, I didn’t tell you! Everything’s all right at the bakery, they’re going to be married!”
What on earth was she talking about? He couldn’t help it, he started to laugh. “Oh, stop it!” she said, but she was laughing too. “I’ll explain later.”