Page 68 of Mad Mabel

She closes her eyes. I turn back to the wall and keep going, one picture at a time.

“It’s time,” I say quietly. To myself. To Peter. “Time to put you away.”

40

THEN

“Where are you off to?”

Cess and Ness were drinking martinis on high stools at the bar in the front room. Cess smoked a cigarette.Bandstandwith Brian Henderson was playing on the television. A few minutes earlier I’d heard them dancing and laughing.

Cess looked up from her drink. “Wow. You look lovely, Mabel.”

I wanted to be coy, to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t pull it off. I’d spent an inordinate amount of time choosing the cream silk blouse with the Peter Pan collar and lace-edged sleeves, the navy circle skirt, white bobby socks, and penny loafers.

Cess and Ness were still staring. “My goodness. You’ve grown into your looks. You look quite…”

“Striking,” Ness said.

“That’s it,” Cess said. “That’s exactly it. Striking.”

“Really?” I could barely hide my delight. I even did a twirl. “I’m going to the movies.”

“What fun!” They were beaming at me. I had the feeling they weren’t on their first martini. “With who?”

“A friend,” I said, actually coy now. I touched my hair, which I’d curled and pulled into a ponytail.

They exchanged a split-second glance, then Cess whistled, tapping her cigarette ash into the ashtray. “Aboyfriend?”

“Do tell,” Ness said. “What is his name?”

“Who says it’s a ‘he’?” I said.

Cess and Ness chortled. “Those rosy cheeks do, darling,” Ness said.

I was glad Cess and Ness were having a few drinks, because the truth was, I didn’t want to tell them who I was seeing. Nor did I want them to realize that I wasn’t, in fact, going to the movies. Cess and Ness were fairly liberal, but I suspected they’d have more than a few questions if I told them I was going to Mr. Loukas’s house.

“Sooo,” Cess said. “Who is it? Or is it a secret?”

I had an idea. “Let’s just say I’m going to see my Gilbert.”

Ness let out a squeal. “I love it. Your very own Gilbert Blythe! And you are the most perfect Anne Shirley!”

“You two and that book!” Cess said, rolling her eyes. “You just make sure Gilbert gets you home by ten, all right, Anne Shirley?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Is that your mother’s scarf?” Cess said, as I turned to leave.

I reached up to my throat, grasping it. I’d seen it in my drawer and knotted it around my neck on a whim. Suddenly I felt self-conscious. “Is it… okay?”

Cess put out her cigarette and slid off her stool. “It needs to be a little more to the side. Let me just…” She came and stood in front of me and untied it and re-knotted the scarf while I stood there like a mannequin, breathing in Chanel No. 5 and cigarettes. “There. Suits you.”

I checked my reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Cess had done a good job.

“Right then,” Cess said. “Don’t keep Gilbert waiting on our account!”

I gathered my cardigan and bag, and they waved me off.