Last Night at the Telegraph Club Page 3

  “Would you like to try something on?”

  Lily looked up from the ad to see a salesgirl approaching. “I was just looking,” Lily said awkwardly.

  The salesgirl had a friendly, open face, and her light brown hair was cut in a Peter Pan style. Her name tag identified her as miss stevens. “These separates are very versatile,” she said, moving the framed advertisement aside to show Lily the clothes in the case. “You can wear the blouse with these lovely A-line skirts as well.”

  “Oh, I—I don’t know,” Lily stammered, but she took a step closer to the case. The tuxedo jerkin was in a navy blue fabric with notched black lapels.

  Miss Stevens took out the jerkin and laid it on the glass. “And it’s hand washable. Very smart.”

  Lily reached out and touched it, her fingers running lightly over the crisply pressed texture.

  “I can bring an appropriate size to the fitting room if you’d like,” Miss Stevens said.

  “Lily! There you are.”

  Lily jerked her hand away and looked up. Her mother was walking toward her, boxy black handbag slung over her arm, a blond salesgirl following with an armful of shirtwaists and skirts.

  “I’ve found some things for you to try on,” her mother said. She glanced down at the tuxedo jerkin and raised her eyebrows. “What’s this?”

  “A wonderful collection of mix-and-match separates, ma’am,” Miss Stevens said. Her gaze flickered briefly to the blond salesgirl and then back to Lily’s mother, who went to the case and examined the jerkin and the ad.

  “Where would you wear this, Lily?” Her mother’s tone was short and critical.

  Lily was embarrassed. “I don’t know. I was just looking.”

  “It’s perfect for parties,” Miss Stevens said. “If Miss Marshall is preparing a fitting room for you, she could bring this ensemble too.”

  The blond salesgirl—Miss Marshall—stepped forward with her armful of clothes, her face blandly expectant, but Lily’s mother shook her head.

  “Thank you, but I don’t believe this is right for my daughter. Come to the fitting room, Lily. I have some school clothes for you to try on.”

  Lily gave Miss Stevens an apologetic look before hurrying after her mother and Miss Marshall. Miss Stevens returned her glance with a thin smile as she folded the jerkin to put it away.

  In the dressing room, the salesgirl hung a row of dresses, shirtwaists, skirts, and matching jackets on the wall-mounted rail. Lily’s mother took a seat on the bench inside the room. “Try on the brown dress first,” her mother said. “That one, with the black buttons.”

  There was a succession of brown and gray dresses and skirts, with pale pink or baby blue cotton shirtwaists featuring demure round collars or cuffed three-quarter-length sleeves. They were the teenage version of her mother’s church suit, inoffensive but boring. Lily thought longingly of the tuxedo jerkin, but as she made her way through the clothes her mother had chosen, the idea of it became increasingly outlandish. Maybe her mother was right. Where would she wear such a thing? It would cause a sensation at the fall dance, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who caused sensations.

  “The jacket is too big for you,” her mother said, studying the latest suit Lily had tried on.

  It was taupe-colored and boxy, and Lily thought it was old-fashioned. “I don’t like it,” she said.

  “You’re going to be a senior,” her mother said. “You need to have the right look.” She opened the dressing room door, but the corridor outside was empty. “Where’s that salesgirl?” She glanced back at Lily. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  After her mother left, Lily gazed at her reflection in the mirror. You need to have the right look. Lily knew what her mother meant. She needed to look respectable and serious. The girl in the mirror looked like a schoolgirl dressing up in her mother’s clothes. Her mouth was pinched shut and her forehead was creased, her body swallowed by the jacket’s padded shoulders. If her mother could see her now, she would tell her to stop being ungrateful. They hardly ever shopped upstairs at Macy’s unless there was a major sale, but here she was in the junior miss department with all the latest fashions, not the bargain basement with its odds and ends from last season.

  Lily remembered a different visit to Macy’s when she was a child—nine or ten—with Eddie clinging to Mama’s hand as she pushed the buggy with baby Frankie in it through the heavy doors onto the first floor. It had been a struggle to get all of them into the elevator and up to the fourth floor where Santa’s workshop was located. Lily remembered silver snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, tinsel strung over the display cases, and boxes and boxes of toy cars and airplanes stacked on the shelves. An electric train circled a miniature Christmas village, and Eddie knelt to stare at it, transfixed, while Lily was drawn to a table-top chemistry set. There were test tubes in a stand, and a tiny Bunsen burner, and strangely colored liquids housed in little glass vials. The box that the chemistry set came in had an illustration of two boys playing together, and over their blond heads were the words discover the future today!

  She didn’t know how long she examined the chemistry set, but suddenly her mother appeared with Eddie and Frankie in tow, exclaiming that she had lost her, and what had she been doing? Lily had pointed to the chemistry set and asked, “Can I have this for Christmas?”

  Her mother gazed at her for a moment, and then said, “Don’t you want a doll instead?”

  Lily had been too old for tantrums, but something about her mother’s response made her angry, and she fisted her hands by her sides and announced, “I don’t want a doll!”

  Her mother’s face had hardened instantly, and Lily saw her hand jerk as if she were about to strike her, but she couldn’t let go of either Eddie or Frankie. Instead, she snapped, “You’re in Macy’s, for goodness’ sake. Be quiet.”

  Her mother’s cutting tone had stunned her, and Lily had burst into tears.

  Now, the dressing room door opened and her mother returned, Miss Marshall in tow, with another two suit jackets. “Try this one on,” her mother said, handing over a smaller size.

  Lily complied. The smaller jacket fit much better. When she buttoned it, the waist nipped in as it was supposed to, rather than ballooning out around her hips. Her mother adjusted the jacket’s drape. Over her mother’s shoulder, Lily saw Miss Marshall carefully plucking a stray black hair from the lapel of the larger jacket and surreptitiously dropping it on the floor.

  “Better,” Lily’s mother said, stepping back and blocking Lily’s view of the salesgirl. There was an unusual expression on her face, and it took a moment for Lily to realize that her mother was satisfied.

  “唔錯,”* her mother said in Cantonese. “幾好.”*

  Lily turned to the mirror. She saw a Chinese girl in a characterless gray suit—blank faced, nothing special, even a little boring. Respectable. The word felt square, immovable, like a sturdy box with all four corners equally weighted. A respectable girl was easily categorized, her motivations clear. She wanted a college degree, and then a husband, and then a nice home and adorable children, in that order. She saw her mother smile tightly, as if conscious of the salesgirl hovering behind them, and then Lily understood why her mother had worn the church suit to Macy’s. Even if it was ugly, it declared her investment in respectability. Her mother was a real American wife and mother, not a China doll in a cheongsam, relegated to operating the elevator.

  “It’s so professional, but also very ladylike,” said Miss Marshall. “Would you like me to ring it up for you?”

  4

  This year we’re going on a journey to better understand ourselves and our goals for life after high school,” Miss Weiland announced, standing at the blackboard at the front of the classroom. She was petite, with a heart-shaped face framed by a halo of light brown curls. She was also one of the youngest teachers at Galileo High School, and half the boys in Lily’s c
lass had a crush on her. Today she was wearing a checked gray pencil skirt and a form-fitting pink blouse that accentuated her curves in a way that Lily had heard the boys murmuring about as soon as they got to class.

  Every senior had to take Senior Goals, taught by either Mr. Stevenson (he had a reputation for being a bit lecherous with the girls) or Miss Weiland (Lily was glad she’d gotten her). The class was officially about preparing for life after high school, but it was widely known to be an easy A that involved watching a lot of filmstrips about etiquette and dating.

  “We’ll be covering three major units,” Miss Weiland said. “Personal Growth and Family Living, Vocational Adjustment, and Consumer Education. Today we’ll begin with a personal assessment of where you are right now. I’d like you to divide up into groups of four and discuss a few questions with one another that I’m going to write on the board. You will work with the people in your row—the four toward the front and the four in the back. Go ahead and move your chairs together.”

  Chair legs scraped across the floor as everyone formed their groups. Lily’s group included Will Chan, who was in front of her; Shirley, who was behind her; and Kathleen Miller, who was behind Shirley. Lily, Shirley, and Will had known each other since they were children, having gone to Commodore Stockton Elementary together. They had known Kathleen since junior high, though they had never been real friends. Kathleen wasn’t the kind of girl who would be part of their group. She was Caucasian, for one thing, and Lily’s close friends were all Chinatown kids. But Kathleen and Lily had been in the same math classes together since eighth grade, and Lily had always thought Kathleen was perfectly nice—quiet, but smart.

  She scooted over to make room for Kathleen’s desk beside her, and as she repositioned her chair she noticed Will sharing a grin with Hanson Wong, who was in a group nearby. The boys rather obviously glanced toward Miss Weiland, who had her back to the classroom while she wrote several questions on the board. With her arm raised, her blouse was tugging up slightly out of the waistband of her skirt, and the skirt’s darts led Lily’s eyes over the curve of her backside and down the length of her legs. The back seams of her stockings were decorated, just above her heels, with a diamond pattern.

  “Stop gawking,” Shirley whispered.

  Lily started guiltily, only to realize that Shirley was aiming her pointed whispers at Will. He turned back to Shirley with a falsely innocent smile. Lily dropped her gaze to her notebook, picking up her pencil and trying to pretend that she hadn’t seen anything.

  “All right, these are the things I want you to discuss,” Miss Weiland announced. “What was your childhood dream? What is your dream now? And what are three steps you can take to achieve that dream? I’d like you to appoint a chairman for your group, and that chairman will make a report at the end of class about your discussion. You’ll have twenty minutes to talk over the questions, and then you’ll share your reports. I’ll come around to check on your progress.”

  The classroom immediately erupted into discussion. Shirley flipped open her notebook and said, “Will, obviously you should be our chairman.”

  “Sure, I’ll give the report.”

  Kathleen had taken out her notebook and was dutifully copying down the questions from the blackboard.

  “I think Lily should take notes,” Shirley said. “Her handwriting is the best.” Kathleen’s pencil wavered for a moment, and then she put it down.

  “All right,” Kathleen agreed.

  “Fine,” Lily said. “Who wants to begin? Childhood dreams?”

  “I wanted to be a basketball player,” Will said.

  “I wanted to be a movie star,” Shirley said, leaning back in her chair and patting her hair. She’d gotten a permanent wave at a Chinatown salon last week, and she was proud of her curls.

  Will grinned. “I could see you in Hollywood.”

  Shirley preened. “Because I’m beautiful?”

  “Because you’re so dramatic,” Lily said, and Will laughed.

  “Well, I know what your dream was,” Shirley said to Lily.

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you want to go to the moon? What a funny dream!”

  “It’s not funny,” Lily objected, feeling faintly stung. “Sure, I wanted to go to the moon. I still do. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Heavens no,” Shirley said. “There’s nothing to do there.”

  “I’d want to go,” Kathleen said.

  They all turned in surprise to look at her, and she looked back at Shirley.

  “Was that your dream too?” Shirley asked, her tone faintly condescending. “Make a note of it, Lily, for the report.”

  “No, my dream when I was a child was to be Amelia Earhart. But going to the moon is a great dream.”

  “Have you ever been in an airplane?” Lily asked.

  “Yep. When I was in eighth grade my Wing Scout troop got to fly. We weren’t up there for very long—we had to take turns—but it was amazing.” Kathleen’s face lit up when she talked about the flight.

  “What was it like?” Lily asked. “Was it scary?”

  Kathleen smiled. “A little at first, but as soon as we left the ground I wasn’t scared anymore. There was too much to look at.”

  Lily was about to ask more—she wanted to know all about the flight—but Shirley said, “Let’s move on. We only have twenty minutes. Next question is what’s your dream now. Will? What about you?”

  Kathleen’s smile disappeared. Lily frowned at Shirley, but Shirley was looking at Will.

  “Well, I don’t want to be a basketball player anymore. That’s kid stuff. I’m going to be a lawyer. Do you still want to be an actress?”

  Shirley laughed a little self-consciously. “Don’t be silly. I want to get married and have a family, obviously.” She looked at Lily. “You’re next. What do you want now?”

  Lily couldn’t decide whether Shirley was goading her or not. Her tone was politely interested, but whenever Shirley sounded that way, it usually meant she was up to something. “Well, I guess I want to find a job like my Aunt Judy’s,” Lily said. “She works at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory as a computer,” she explained to Kathleen.

  “Really?” Kathleen brightened up again. “What exactly does she do?”

  “Oh, she does math. They design rockets there—not my aunt, but the engineers.”

  “Are you taking Advanced Math with Mr. Burke?” Kathleen asked. “Next period?”

  “Yes, are you?”

  “Yep. I heard he only gives one A each semester.” Kathleen leaned back in her chair and pointed her pencil at Lily. “I bet you’ll get it.”

  “Oh no. If that’s true, the A will go to Michael Reid—”

  “Girls, you’re getting off track,” Shirley interrupted. “What’s the next question? Oh, name three steps you can take to achieve your dream.”

  “But Kathleen hasn’t said what her current dream is,” Lily objected.

  Shirley’s expression tightened. “So what’s your current dream, Kathleen?”

  Kathleen’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the curtness of Shirley’s tone, but she didn’t comment on it. “I still want to be a pilot.”

  “And how will you achieve your dream?” Shirley asked.

  “Well, step one is to go to college, maybe major in aeronautics or engineering. Step two—”

  “I didn’t think you were college material,” Shirley said.

  Lily stared at her friend in shock. She had no idea what had gotten into her, but Kathleen didn’t seem entirely surprised. She merely smiled slightly before she responded.

  “Cal takes anyone in the top fifteen percent of their graduating class,” Kathleen said. “I’m not going to have a problem. Neither will Lily. But I don’t think we’ll see you there.”

  Shirley’s cheeks turned pink, but before Lily could do anything to defuse the situation, M
iss Weiland arrived at their group. She smiled benignly and asked, “How are you doing? Any questions?”

  “We’re fine,” Kathleen said. “Lily’s taking excellent notes, and Will’s going to be our chairman.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Miss Weiland said. “I’m glad you’re working so well together.”

  After Miss Weiland moved on to the next group, the four of them sat in silence for a moment. Will looked slightly stunned. Shirley was still red-faced, while Kathleen was the only one who looked calm. Lily was strangely thrilled by what had just happened. No one ever stood up to Shirley like that.

  * * *

  —

  After school, Shirley waylaid Lily at her locker and asked, “What are you doing Saturday?”

  “I don’t know, why?” Lily asked as she packed up her book bag.

  Shirley leaned against the wall next to Lily’s locker. “Will invited us to a picnic in Golden Gate Park. I think Hanson and Flora are coming, too. You should come.”

  “I have to study,” Lily hedged. She and Kathleen had been the only girls in Advanced Math, and she’d gotten the distinct sense that the teacher anticipated neither of them would last long. She was determined to prove him wrong.

  “You can study before the picnic. Come on, don’t make me go alone.”

  “You just said Hanson and Flora are going.”

  Shirley pouted. “If it’s just the four of us, Will’s going to think it’s a double date or something. You have to come.”

  Shirley had always been demanding this way, almost like a boy in her assertiveness. Sometimes her insistence was flattering—it could make Lily feel like she was the only friend who mattered—but it wasn’t quite working on her today.

  Shirley suddenly linked their arms together, pulling her close, conspiratorially. “Lily, you have to come. I’ve already told Will that you would. His brother’s cultural group is throwing the picnic—we don’t have to do anything except be there for Will.”