The Featherbed. Джон Миллер

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      Dora raised her head in victory. As she did so, a beautiful pendant peeked out above her high collar. It was a burnished silver-grey and was intricately carved.

      “Dora, that necklace is beautiful. Is it new?”

      “Yeah, isn’t it adorable? Elsie and I found it in a shop on Allen Street.”

      “Allen Street? You were shopping there?”

      “Yeah, look here.” She tilted her head down and pushed her chin into her chest. “I also got this pin for my hair. Isn’t it gorgeous? I’m gonna wear it to my next audition. There’s a show having tryouts next Sunday.”

      “Allen Street? Isn’t Allen a little — you know — a little bit on the shady side?”

      “Whaddya mean, shady?” answered Elsie. “For God’s sake, it’s practically next door to where you live. It’s where all the craftsmen have their shops. The rabbis even shop there!”

      “Yeah, and besides, we were tryin’ to find a present for my poor old mama. I wanted to give her somethin’ nice, ‘cause she just had another baby. Can you believe it? Poor woman — I move out to give them more room, and she pops out another one not a year later. Makes you feel like a goddamned weed. Pull me out, and another one shoots up to fill my spot.”

      “Okay, Dora, but isn’t Allen Street also where they have all the — what do they call them — those bawdy houses?”

      “Yeah, and?”

      “Well, I don’t know ... I guess I don’t think I’d like to be shopping in that neighbourhood, that’s all.”

      “Ya know, Rebecca, those girls, they aren’t so different from us, really.”

      “What do you mean, no different? Of course they are! They’re nothing like you and me.” Maybe in Elsie’s gloomy version of the world they weren’t, thought Rebecca.

      “How would you know? Have you ever met anyone who worked as a whore?”

      “Shhhh! Keep your voice down ... Of course not. Have you?” She looked back and forth between them.

      Elsie didn’t answer. Dora picked her fingers, looked at her nails, then spoke lightly, for effect. “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Rebecca saw Elsie shoot an angry glance at Dora, who waved her hand dismissively.

      “You have?” “Yeah, I have.”

      “Who is it?” Rebecca’s eyes lit up.

      “No one you know. Let’s just leave it at that.”

      “Well, howdya meet her?”

      “Through a friend.”

      “And what was she like?”

      “It’s like Elsie said, she’s not so different from you and me.”

      “How could you say that, Dora? I would never do something like that. I just couldn’t. And neither could you.”

      “Sure I could.”

      “Could not.”

      “I’m not saying I would do it, but I could if I had to.”

      “What could possibly be so bad you couldn’t earn money with a regular job?”

      “Oh, come on, Rebecca,” Elsie said, “Think about it a bit. Not everyone comes from a family like yours, with parents that care about them. You never know what choice ya might make if your situation was different.” Elsie never talked about her family, other than to say that they made artificial flowers in a crowded tenement, and that she and her sister had left as soon as they could afford to. When Elsie got her job at the factory, she rented a room by herself from a landlord on Baxter Street.

      Rebecca giggled. “Oh my God! Can you imagine if I was doing that? I can’t even think what my parents would do. I sometimes feel like they’re gonna disown me just for going to the dance hall on Saturday nights. Or to union meetings.”

      “Well, they’d most definitely sit shivah for you for this one, sweetheart,” said Dora.

      “Oh absolutely they would. ‘Cause of my papa — for sure.”

      “You don’t think your mama would feel the same way?”

      “Probably. But she just told me back in Poland once she was almost kidnapped and sent to Argentina into white slavery. So I don’t know ... I’d think she might have some sympathy.”

      “How charitable.” Elsie breathed in and out through her nose. Her voice was icy.

      “Trust me,” said Dora. “If it was her own daughter, I’m sure she’d object.”

      “Yeah, you’re probably right. And anyway, that was different. Those girls — it sounded like they had no choice. Lotsa the girls on Allen Street — they choose it. At least I heard that’s how it is. No one’s forcing them. If my mama and papa thought I’d chosen to be a whore, for sure they would sit shivah for me.”

      Rebecca could see Elsie shifting again in her seat adjusting herself to sit stiffly upright. “Lotsa people make choices for lotsa reasons, Rebecca.”

      “What kind of reason would make a person choose to lie down with all those men who they don’t even know, and take money for it? I can’t imagine it. Even if their parents didn’t love them.”

      Elsie’s fists tightened on her bunch of cloth. Rebecca saw her exchange a look with Dora, who turned to Rebecca and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart. Concentrate on your fabric there. You’re getting sloppy, and you’re also getting behind. We don’t want another accident.”

      Rebecca hated when her friends treated her like a child. Disagreeing was no reason to tell her to calm down. After all, it was Elsie who was obviously upset. It was more than clear she knew someone. But, even though she was dying to find out who it was, if Elsie didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t press the matter.

      She quickened the pace of her sewing for a few minutes, and stewed for a while as the machines buzzed away.

      Carlo broke the silence, whispering a welcome change of topic.

      “You girls going to Cooper Union on Sunday?”

      “Uh huh.” Elsie glanced at her friends when nobody else answered. She seemed to brighten up at the thought of it. “Aren’t we?”

      Rebecca nodded. “I am.”

      Carlo reached behind Lenny and poked Dora in the ribs. “You too, right?”

      “I dunno...” Dora’s voice trailed off.

      “Whaddya mean, ya don’t know?”

      “Well, okay, here it is: I wanna know why aren’t we asking for better wages? This rally — as far as I can tell — it’s just for better conditions, isn’t it? Not for СКАЧАТЬ