Sisters (27 page)

“Tell me you're kidding. How was Hiroshima the first day? Probably on a par with my day today. We're being sued, among other things. Some days I hate what I do.”

“Other days you love it,” Sabrina reminded her.

“Yeah, I guess,” Tammy conceded. “I miss you guys. How's by you?”

“Okay. A little tense. Annie starts school tomorrow. She's in a rotten mood. I think she must be scared stiff.”

“That's understandable.” Worrying about her sister got Tammy's mind off her work. “It's probably like the first day of school for any kid, only worse. I was always afraid I couldn't find the bathroom at school. But I knew you were there, so it was okay.” They both smiled at the memory. Tammy had been so shy as a little girl, and still was at times, except in her work. In social situations, she could still be very reserved, unless she knew people well. “Are you going with her?”

“She won't let me. She says she wants to take the bus.” Sabrina sounded worried. She had become a mother hen in two brief action-packed months.

“Can she do that?”

“I don't know. She's never done it before.”

“Maybe she should wait until they teach her that at school. Tell her to take a cab if she wants to go alone.” It was a practical suggestion Sabrina hadn't thought of, and made perfect sense.

“That's a great idea. I'll tell her in the morning.”

“Tell her to stop being so cheap. She can afford the cab.” They both laughed. Annie was notoriously frugal— as an artist, she had been careful about money for years. With the salaries they earned, the others were less cautious.

“I'll tell her you said so.” Sabrina smiled.

Tammy was at her house by then, and she sat in her car for a few minutes, chatting with Sabrina, and then said she had to go in. It was nearly ten o'clock and she hadn't eaten much since breakfast. She hadn't had time. She was used to it. She had eaten candy all day to keep going, and power bars.

“Call me tomorrow and tell me how it went,” Tammy said, as Juanita stood up on the seat next to her, stretched, and yawned. She had eaten sliced turkey at noon. Tammy took better care of her than she did of herself.

“I will,” Sabrina promised. “Get some rest. All the same problems will be there tomorrow. You can't fix everything in a day.”

“No, but I try, and tomorrow there will be a whole new load of shit to deal with. Into each day, some shit must fall,” Tammy said, and then they hung up.

And as it turned out, she was right. Hard as it was to believe, the next day was worse. They were hit with a wildcat strike. The light technicians were walking out. Everything on the set ground to a total halt. It was every producer's nightmare. And Tammy got word that their pregnant star had filed her suit. The press was calling her for comment.

“Oh Jesus, I don't believe this,” Tammy said, sitting at her desk, fighting back tears. “This can't be happening,” she said to her assistant. But it was. The rest of the day was worse. “Remind me again of why I wanted to work in television, and took my major in it. I know there must have been a reason, but it seems to have slipped my mind.” She was at the office until after midnight, and never got to talk to Sabrina. She had had four messages from her, in the office, and two on her voice mail, saying everything was okay, but Tammy never got to return the calls, and it was too late now. It was three
A.M.
in New York. She wondered how Annie's first day of school had gone.

Chapter 17

Annie's first day at the Parker School for the Blind
had been a disaster. Or at least the first part of the day was. She had liked Tammy's suggestion, passed on by Sabrina, and had taken a cab to the school, which was in the West Village, a lively neighborhood these days, but a long way from where they lived. Traffic was terrible getting there, and she was late when she arrived. She had taken her white stick with her, and insisted that she knew how to use it. She had refused to allow Sabrina to take her there, like a five-year-old.

“I lived in Italy and didn't speak the language when I arrived. I can manage in New York without my sight,” she said grandly, but had allowed her older sister to hail her a cab. Annie gave the driver the address, and Sabrina's heart was in her mouth as she watched them drive away. She resisted the urge to call Annie on her cell phone to warn her to be careful. She was suddenly panicked that the driver might kidnap and rape her, because she was young, beautiful, and blind. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach, worrying about Annie, as she walked back into the house.

She shared her fears with Candy, who told her she was crazy. She had gone back to work that week, finally, and was leaving for Milan the next day, for a shoot for
Harper's Bazaar.
There were clothes and suitcases all over the place. Annie had tripped on two of them on the way out. Sabrina warned Candy again not to create an obstacle course for her sister. And as she said it to her, Sabrina fell over Candy's dog.

“This place is a madhouse,” she said, as she went upstairs to finish getting dressed. She was late for her office, and had to be in court that afternoon, on a motion to suppress in a nasty divorce she hadn't wanted to take in the first place. But all she could think about was Annie as she stepped into her skirt, at the same time as she put on high heels.

As Sabrina learned later from Annie, she had arrived at the school, after paying the cab. She got out, unfolded her white stick as she'd been taught to do, extended it, and immediately fell over an unusually high curb, and skinned both her knees right through her jeans. She had torn them, and could feel blood trickling down her legs. It was an inauspicious beginning, to say the least.

A monitor standing outside the school came forward to help her, as Annie walked into the school. He took her to the office, and put Band-Aids on her knees himself, then escorted her upstairs for orientation. He pointed her in the right direction and she got lost immediately, and wound up in a sex ed class for advanced students, where they were showing them how to put condoms on bananas, and as she listened, Annie realized that she had come to the wrong room. They asked her if she had brought her condoms with her, and she said she didn't realize she needed them for the first day of school, but she promised to bring some the next day. After a ripple of laughter swept across the classroom, another person took her back to the right place, but everybody in her section had already left the room for a tour of the school. So she was lost again, and had to ask for help to meet up with her group. She confessed later to her sisters that by then she was in tears. Someone saw her crying, and escorted her to her group. She could feel that she had blood on her torn blue jeans, realized that she had skinned her hands too, was crying pathetically, had to go to the bathroom and had no idea where it was, and couldn't find a tissue to blow her nose.

“What did you do?” Sabrina asked, when she heard the story later. Just listening to it, she was ready to cry herself. She wanted to put her arms around Annie and never let her out of the house again.

“I used my sleeve,” Annie answered practically, with a grin. “For my nose, I mean. I waited till later to find the bathroom. I held it in. And my group finally found me.”

“Oh God, I hate this,” Sabrina said, writhing in her seat.

“Me too,” Annie said, but she was smiling by then, which she hadn't been in school.

At orientation they had explained to them what the next six months would be like. They would learn how to manage public transportation, live in their own apartment, take out the garbage, cook, tell time, type in braille, apply for a job—the employment office would find her one if necessary—shop for clothes, dress themselves, do their hair if it was something they wanted to learn, take care of pets, read braille, and work with a seeing-eye dog if that was what they wanted to do. There was an additional training program for working with the dog, which would extend her school year by eight weeks, and guide dog work was done off-site. They mentioned that there was a sex ed class for advanced students, and listed several other options including an art class. By the time Annie had listened to the whole list, her head was spinning. According to them, about the only things she wouldn't be able to do after six months at the Parker School were drive a car and fly a plane. There was even an exercise class and a swimming team, and an Olympicsize pool with lanes. Just hearing about all of it, she was overwhelmed. And after orientation, they went to lunch in the cafeteria, and were shown how to manage that too, how to handle money, how to choose what she wanted to eat. The signs were in braille, which was going to be their first class every morning. For today, there were teaching assistants who told them what the choices were and helped them get it on the trays, and to the tables. Today's lunch was free. Welcome to the Parker School. Annie had picked a yogurt and a bag of potato chips. She was too nervous to eat. The yogurt was pineapple, which she hated anyway.

“Boy, this is intense, isn't it?” a voice next to her said. “I graduated from Yale. It was a lot easier than this. How are you? Are you okay?” He sounded young and as nervous as she felt.

“I think so,” she said cautiously. The voice was male.

“So what brings you here?”

“Research for a book,” she said, sounding flip.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “I'm blind.” She was suddenly sorry for what she'd said.

“Me too,” she said more gently. “My name's Annie. What's yours?” She felt like one of two kids meeting in the sandbox, checking each other out on the first day of school.

“I'm Baxter. My mother thought I should come here. She must hate me. So what brought you here?”

“A car accident in July.” There was something intimate about the darkness they lived in, like being in a confessional. It was easier saying things when she couldn't see his face, nor he hers.

“I had a motorcycle accident in June, riding with a friend. I was a graphic designer before this. So now I figure I'll be selling pencils in a cup on the street. There's not a lot of work out there for blind designers,” he said, sounding half tragic and half funny. But she liked him, he had a friendly voice.

“I'm …I was a painter. Same problem. I was living in Florence.”

“They drive like lunatics there. No wonder you got in an accident.”

“It happened here, on the Fourth of July.” She didn't tell him about her mother. That would have been too much, even in their shared darkness. It was impossible to say. Maybe later, if they really became friends. But it was nice to have someone to talk to the first day.

“I'm gay, by the way,” he said suddenly, out of nowhere.

She smiled. “I'm straight. My boyfriend just dumped me, right after the accident. But he didn't know I was blind.”

“That's rotten of him.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“I'm twenty-three. I graduated last year. Where'd you go to school?”

“Risdy,” she said, which was the code among the knowledgeable for the Rhode Island School of Design. “I went to the Beaux Arts in Paris after I graduated, and picked up a master's degree. And I've been studying in Florence ever since. A lot of good all that hot-shot education does us now. Risdy, Yale, now this, so we can learn to use the microwave and brush our teeth. I fell flat on my face outside the school this morning, getting out of a cab,” she said, and suddenly it didn't seem so tragic, it was almost funny. “I walked into the sex ed class by mistake and they asked me if I brought condoms. I told them I'd bring some tomorrow.” He was laughing at what she said.

“Do you live with your parents now?” he asked with interest. “I've been staying with my mom since June. I was living with my boyfriend before that,” he said, sounding solemn. “He died in the accident. It was his bike.”

“I'm sorry,” she said softly, and meant it, but she still couldn't tell him about her mother. “I'm living with my sisters for a year, till I get on my feet. They've been really nice to me.”

“My mom's been pretty cool too, except that she treats me like a two-year-old.”

“I guess it's scary for them too,” Annie said, thinking about it.

And then they were told that it was time to go to the classroom. They were being divided into four groups.

“I hope I'm in yours,” Baxter whispered. She did too. She had a new friend at school. They listened carefully for their groups and were ecstatic to discover they were in the same one. They followed the rest of the group to their classroom, and found their seats. It was Braille 101.

“I don't remember this class in college, do you?” he whispered, and she giggled like a kid. He was funny and irreverent, and smart, and she liked him. She had no idea what he looked like, tall or short, fat or thin, black or white or Asian. All she knew was that she liked him, they were both artists, and he was going to be her friend.

They were both exhausted by the end of the day. She asked him if he needed a ride home, if he lived uptown and was on her way. He said he had to take two buses and a subway to Brooklyn, where he had to take another bus to get home.

“How did you do that?” she asked with admiration.

“I just ask for help all along the way. It takes me about two hours to get here. But if I don't come here, my mother will kill me.”

Annie laughed at what he said. “My sisters would too.”

“Are you going to get a dog?” he asked her. “My mom thinks I should.”

“I hope not. I hate dogs. They're yappy and they smell.”

“In this case, I think they help,” he said practically. “And it might be good company, when I live alone in my own place. I'm not sure there's a lot of interest in blind gay guys. I figure I may be alone a lot.” He sounded sad as he said it, and echoed her fears about blind women.

“I've been thinking pretty much the same thing,” she admitted.

“It's too bad I'm not straight,” he whispered.

“Yeah, it is. Maybe you'll get cured.”

“Of what?” He sounded shocked.

“Being gay.”

“Are you serious?” Their friendship was about to end.

“No,” she said, and he burst out laughing.