Ashes of Roses

  Nobody said much after dinner—or durin’ the meal, for that matter. When the weight of the silence hangin’ over me became too heavy to bear, I put my coat around my shoulders and opened the window to the fire escape.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Hildegarde asked.

  “Where d’ye think I’m goin’? I’m runnin’ off to work in a sweatshop all night.”

  Hildegarde’s eyes widened. “I’m going to tell my mother.”

  “I was just makin’ a joke, ye little dimwit. I only want a breath of fresh air.”

  As I pulled the window closed behind me, I heard Hildegarde’s whiny voice, “Mo-ther! Rose called me a bad name!”

  I had barely sat myself down on the fire-escape step when Elsa stuck her head out of the window, chastised me, and made me apologize to her weaselly daughter. It was bad enough puttin’ up with the reprimands from my own mother, but havin’ Elsa after me was almost more than I could bear. And I didn’t remember askin’ for two more sisters, unpleasant ones at that. There was only so much a person could take.

  After the window closed, I put my head in my hands for a bit of peace, but I heard it open again. It was Maureen this time. She fit herself on the step beside me. “Was it fun?”

  “The job? No. It was mostly dull.”

  “Was it scary?”

  “No.”

  “Did they pay ye a lot of money?”

  “No, they pay at the end of the week.”

  “Are ye goin’ back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Maureen stood up and looked over the railing. “Why do they have this little balcony and stairs? Nobody ever goes in or out this way.”

  “It’s just used if there’s a fire,” I said. “If ye can’t get down the stairs, ye go out this way.”

  “The ladder doesn’t even go all the way to the ground. How could ye get the rest of the way down?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, tiring of her questions. “Ye jump the rest of the way, I guess.”

  Maureen pulled back from the railing. “I could never jump. I wouldn’t have the courage.”

  “Ye’d be amazed how much courage you’d have with flames lickin’ at yer arse.”

  Just then, the window opened and Trudy stuck her head out. “What now?” I asked.

  “I just want to tell you that you’re a fool. We’re gracious enough to take you into our home and you act like a common little harlot, running all over the city at night.”

  “If ye’ll notice, I’m not runnin’. I’m sittin’.”

  Trudy’s eyes narrowed. “You know full well what I’m talking about. It’s humiliating that someone in my own family worked in a sweatshop. I’m ashamed to claim you as my cousin.”

  “Look,” I said, standin’ up. “As far as I’m concerned, we are no relation to each other at all. My uncle just happened to marry yer mother, is all. A poor decision on his part, I might add.”

  “You’re despicable!” Trudy said, and she slammed the window shut.

  “What does that mean?” Maureen asked.

  “I don’t know. But I have the feelin’ it wasn’t a compliment.”

  I had another feelin’—that every time I had words with Elsa or one of her daughters I was turnin’ more and more into the person they thought I was.

  14

  That night, after Elsa and the girls went to bed, Ma and I had a quiet argument. There was no way I could convince her that I should go back to work makin’ paper flowers.

  “Just listen, Ma,” I whispered. “The lady in the bakery said Mr. Moscovitz sometimes lets girls take work home. If I could teach you and Maureen to make stems, then we could make three times the money.”

  “Where would we do the work, Rose? Elsa would have a fit if we did it here. Ye know how fussy she is about her house. As hard as I try to keep our goods in a neat little pile durin’ the day, she’s always pokin’ at it, tryin’ to make it smaller.”

  “It’s only wires and paper strips, Ma. It wouldn’t take up any space at all. We could do the work while everybody is away durin’ the day and have it cleared up long before they came home.”

  “But ye’d have to go to that terrible neighborhood to get the work and take back the finished pieces.”

  “It’s not such a bad place, and Elsa just said it wasn’t safe at night. It’s fine in the daytime. I could go first thing in the mornin’.” I held my breath, hopin’ Ma wouldn’t remember that Elsa had said the neighborhood wasn’t safe, especially after dark. Then I jumped in with my best argument. “Ye know we can’t stay here, Ma. Elsa and her daughters don’t like us. They think we’re ignorant.” I saw her jaw tighten when I said that word, and I knew I had her.

  “All right,” she said finally. “Ye’ll go in the mornin’, after everybody has left. But if the man won’t let ye bring the work home, ye’re to come back right away. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Ma.”

  * * *

  Elsa took so long gettin’ ready to go out Thursday mornin’, I despaired of her leavin’ at all. “Where does she go?” I whispered to Ma. “Does she have some sort of job?”

  “She goes callin’ on people,” Ma said. “It has somethin’ to do with Patrick bein’ a ward councilman. Elsa went on and on about it yesterday, tryin’ to let me know how important they both are, I guess.”

  “Who does she call on?”

  Ma shrugged. “Mostly sick people or widows. She says it’s important that people know that the party cares about their hardships.”

  “I don’t think Elsa cares about anybody but herself.”

  Ma poked me to shut me up just as Elsa came into the room, buttonin’ up her coat. It was a beautiful dark-green wool with a fur collar and cuffs. Her hat was a matchin’ green with fur trim. How I’d love to see Ma in an outfit like that. Soon as we got on our feet in America, I’d see that she got one. She deserved nice things every bit as much as Elsa—probably more.

  “I won’t be gone long today,” Elsa said, wigglin’ her fingers into her kid gloves. “Help yourselves to sauerkraut for lunch.”

  My stomach lurched at the thought of eatin’ sauerkraut, but Ma thanked her as if she had offered us a banquet.

  It took Elsa forever to leave. I knew she was watchin’ me, so I pretended to be settled in for the day, mendin’ my stockings. Finally, she bundled Friedrich in his coat and headed for the door. “I won’t be long,” she said again, givin’ me a stern look to make sure I caught her meaning. After we listened to their footsteps go all the way down the stairs and heard the door slam, I peeked through a slit in the drapes to see which way they were goin’. Elsa turned several times to look back at our building, then disappeared from sight.

  * * *

  All the way over to the shop, I tried to think of a way to convince Mr. Moscovitz to let me take work home. I didn’t think there was much of a chance he’d let me do it, but I had to try. At least it was easier to find my way this time, now that I knew where I was goin’. I arrived at the shop just in time to hear the nearby church chimes toll eleven o’clock. I made my way through the front building and waited outside the door of the back tenement. I stayed there partly because I was hopin’ that Tessa would come out and give me some advice on what to say, and partly because I was afraid to go in at all.

  I finally got up the courage to open the door. Mr. Moscovitz looked up. “Yesterday you leave early and today you arrive late? You shouldn’t have bothered to come at all. You’re fired.”

  “Could I just talk with ye for a minute, Mr. Moscovitz?” I asked.

  “Why should I talk with a person who doesn’t work here?”

  “Please, sir?”

  “All right. Girls, it’s time for lunch.”

  Tessa gave me a funny look as she left the room. I hoped I’d get a chance to talk to her outside. I explained to Mr. Moscovitz about not bein’ able to work here but wantin’ to take the work home.

  “Why should I trust you to take materials away from here when I cou
ldn’t even trust you to come back on time the second day?”

  “Please, Mr. Moscovitz, I really need the work. We can’t stay where we’re livin’ now. The three of us need to earn money for rent so we can get our own flat.”

  “You say three of you can work from home?” He looked interested.

  “Yes, sir. Me, my mother, and my sister. I can teach them both how to do stems.”

  Mr. Moscovitz rubbed his beard. “Of course, I couldn’t pay you as much as I would if you were a regular worker here.”

  “All right.” Since I never found out how much I would be earnin’ in the first place, I wouldn’t know the difference.

  “And I’ll only pay for perfect stems. The cost of materials for bad stems will come out of your pay.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.” I was also beginnin’ to understand that Mr. Moscovitz would try to pay us as little as possible, but what choice did we have? “What do I get paid for the work I did yesterday?” I asked.

  “You ruined so many materials yesterday, you should owe me money. But out of the goodness of my heart, I’m going to call it even.” He pinched my cheek. I knew I should tell him to keep his hands off, but I didn’t want him to send me away without work.

  Mr. Moscovitz went over to the supply table in the corner. “I’m wrapping up enough materials for three thousand stems. Bring them back tomorrow and I’ll give you more. I’ll keep track of how many perfect stems you make, and you’ll get paid on Saturday.”

  “Three thousand stems in one day?”

  “Most of my girls do almost three thousand a day by themselves. You have two other people helping you. I should be able to give you at least five thousand a day by next week.”

  I took the package from him. “All right. Thank you, Mr. Moscovitz. Ye won’t regret this.”

  “That remains to be seen. I’ll tell you this. If you run off with my supplies and don’t return with stems, you will have much to regret.”

  I made a hasty retreat out the door. I saw Tessa talkin’ to some other girls in the yard and ran over to her. She looked at the bundle in my arms. “So you’re taking home piecework?”

  “Yes. This way my mother and sister can work with me. My family won’t let me work here all day.”

  Tessa’s dark eyes looked me square in the face. “Why not? You too good for us? They won’t let you work in such a dangerous neighborhood?”

  I could feel my face gettin’ red. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that…”

  One of the other girls said somethin’ to Tessa in Yiddish, and she laughed. An older woman walked by me and spat on the ground near my feet.

  “Why is everybody upset with me? I need to earn money for my family.”

  “You’re taking the work away from us,” Tessa said. “Moscovitz will only pay you half as much as he pays us, maybe even less. He’ll give you more and more work, because you work so cheap. And when the orders for paper flowers are filled, he’ll fire us all and close the shop for the season. Having the three of you work at home will only make that happen faster.”

  “But I didn’t know.…”

  Tessa turned as she went in the door. “You don’t know anything, greenie. I’m sorry I helped you yesterday.”

  After all the workers had disappeared back into the building, I stood there, stunned. I had no idea that takin’ work home would mean the girls in the shop got less work, although it made sense. I felt terrible thinkin’ of Tessa’s words. “You too good for us? They won’t let you work in such a dangerous neighborhood?” I had denied it, but of course that was the truth.

  My family wouldn’t let me work in this place because they feared for my safety, yet these girls came here every day and left long after dark. Wasn’t there someone at home who feared for them?

  15

  I ran most of the way home. Now that I knew the way, I didn’t waste precious time gettin’ lost. Ma must have been watchin’ for me, because she opened the door before I could reach for the knob. “Did ye enjoy yer walk?” She rolled her eyes toward the kitchen, took the package from my hands, and slipped it under her sweater.

  “It was a fine walk,” I said. “The fresh air did me a world of good.”

  Hearin’ my voice, Elsa rushed in from the kitchen, wipin’ her hands on her apron. “Where did you walk?” she asked, eyein’ me suspiciously.

  “I don’t know. Just around the neighborhood.”

  Elsa folded her arms. “I was walking around the neighborhood and didn’t see any sign of you.”

  “Leave the girl be, Elsa,” Ma said. “I told ye she just wanted to get some fresh air. There’s no harm in it.”

  I took off my coat and went to sit near the fire, smilin’ my most innocent smile at Elsa. The rest of the day passed without incident. Hildegarde was snoopin’ around me after she got home from school, tryin’ to find out where I had been, but when I just smiled and played dumb, she soon lost interest.

  By Friday mornin’, the subject of my mysterious walk had been forgotten. Elsa and Friedrich had to leave the house early, because the girls wanted them to attend a special event at school. Of course there was no mention of us goin’ along, which was fine with me. I could hardly wait to get started on our project.

  As soon as Uncle Patrick left the house, I took out the supplies and spread them on the table. Without waitin’ for instructions, Maureen grabbed at the bundle of wires, which took on a life of their own and sprang from the table to scatter all over the floor.

  “Now look at the mess ye’ve made,” I cried. “Couldn’t ye wait to find out what to do?”

  “I barely touched them,” Maureen protested. “Stop bein’ so bossy, Rose.”

  “Stop yer arguin’,” Ma said. “Let’s pick these wires up so we can get started.”

  We spent the next twenty minutes on our hands and knees collectin’ the wires. Bridget tried to help, but couldn’t pick them up in her pudgy little hands without bendin’ them into hairpins. A few wires had lodged in the crevices between the floorboards, makin’ them almost impossible to retrieve.

  “Can’t we just forget the ones in the cracks?” Maureen asked. “Nobody will miss one or two little wires.”

  “I’m sure that Mr. Moscovitz knew exactly how many wires he gave me. If any of them are missin’, he’ll subtract some of my pay.”

  “He doesn’t sound like a very nice person,” Maureen said.

  I was losin’ patience with her. “He’s not supposed to be nice. He’s my boss!” I liked the way that sounded. I’d never had a real job before.

  We finally had all our supplies lined up again, and I began the instructions. I thought Maureen would be the hard one to teach, but Ma turned out to be more of a problem. She learned quickly, but then got bored with makin’ each stem exactly the same. Instead of rippin’ the paper tape off at the end of the wire, she wound it back down the wire about an inch and pinched it into a leaf shape before tearin’ it off.

  “Ma!” I said. “What are ye doin’?”

  Ma twirled the stem, admirin’ it. “This is nicer, don’t ye think?”

  Bridget clapped her hands. “Pretty!” she squealed.

  “But, Ma, it’s not the way we’re supposed to do it.”

  “Nonsense,” Ma said. “I can’t imagine that yer Mr. Moscovitz wouldn’t rather have a stem with a leaf on it. Maybe several leaves. I’m surprised nobody thought of it before.”

  “They did think of it, Ma, but that’s a whole different job. They have little paper leaves that somebody else puts on the stems after our part is done.”

  “Why can’t we be the ones to do that?” Maureen chimed in. “That would be more fun.”

  “I’m sure it would,” I said. “But we’re not after havin’ fun here. This is a job that we’re gettin’ paid for, if the two of ye will just stop complainin’.”

  I heard Maureen gasp, and I realized I was about to take a tongue-lashin’ from Ma. Nobody talked to her like that, not even Da. I was afraid to look up, but when I did, I
saw her rollin’ up a plain wire just the way she was supposed to. She didn’t look pleased about it, though.

  Ma caught me lookin’ at her. “What?”

  I shrugged. “Nothin’. I’m sorry the job is so dull.”

  “We’re gettin’ paid for it. That’s all that matters.”

  It wasn’t long before we got into the rhythm of the task. And when Bridget drifted off to sleep, we could work even faster, not havin’ to keep an eye on her. By early afternoon, we each had a pile of finished stems in front of us. Ma’s pile was as big as Maureen’s and mine put together. I figured Ma’s fingers were nimble from her sewin’. At this rate, we should be able to make good money, all of us workin’ together like this. It wouldn’t be long before we could get our own apartment and support ourselves.

  I checked the clock. “It’s one-thirty already. We’d better stop soon. Hildegarde and Trudy usually get home from school by two-thirty.”

  “Ye’re right,” Ma said. “Elsa and Friedrich will be comin’ home with them today. I’m sure she wouldn’t take kindly to havin’ her table covered up with our mess.”

  “It’s not a mess,” Maureen said. “It’s…”

  Maureen never got the chance to finish her sentence, because at that moment the door opened, and I heard a scream.

  Elsa, Hildegarde, Trudy, and a young man I surmised was Trudy’s beau stood open-mouthed just inside the door. It didn’t take long to figure out that Trudy had been the one doing the screamin’, because, next thing I knew, she crumpled to the floor in a heap.

  “Look what you’ve done to my sister!” Hildegarde screeched.

  The beau gathered Trudy up in his arms and deposited her on the sofa in the front parlor. “Shall I get her some water, Mrs. Nolan?” he asked.

  Ma started to answer, but when she realized she wasn’t the Mrs. Nolan he had spoken to, she pretended to cough.