Bronx Noir

“Sure you don’t want to help out?” he asked Linda on the fly. “I could really use my pretty nurse in the office.” He intended to give her a peck on the lips, but she turned abruptly and he got her cheek.

“Find somebody else.”

A week later, because it was so hot outside, Linda, carrying groceries, decided to take the shortcut through the outside office door to get to their own quarters. As she entered, a set of chimes rang out “O Sole Mio.” She thought they were annoying, but Frank liked them because they’d been a housewarming gift from Connie.

Linda was surprised to see someone sitting at the appointment desk. She was somewhat older than Linda. The woman’s long, thick black hair was piled haphazardly atop her head. Her blue eyes flashed. She obviously liked bright colors. She wore a dropped-shoulder red drawstring blouse and a multicolored dirndl. And high heels. This exotic-seeming woman smiled widely at Linda and reached out her hand. She had a husky voice. “I’m Anna Marie. I’ve known Frankie all his life. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Linda didn’t return the gesture, so Anna Marie lifted an eyebrow and placed her hand back on the desk.

Linda looked closely. A wedding band.

“I’m helping out temporarily until he finds time to get someone else.”

Linda glanced at her quickly to see if there was disapproval there. If there was, Anna Marie covered it.

Anna Marie reassured her that she wasn’t a threat to the newly wedded Mrs. Lombardi. “I’m married to Frank’s old friend Johnny. We all went to P.S. 93 together and then on to James Monroe High. Frank was the only one of us who went off to college.”

Linda didn’t comment, so Anna Marie had to fill the silence. “He got a scholarship, but you know all that…”

Luckily, Frank walked in from his examining room. He grinned. “At last the two loves of my life meet. I was mad about Anna until Johnny stole her from me,” he said to Linda with a twinkle. “But all’s well. We’re happy, aren’t we?”

Neither woman spoke. Linda was aware that Anna Marie was attempting to evaluate her.

Let her try, she thought.

The chimes were heard again as an elderly lady walked in the front door.

“Ah,” Frank said, “here’s Mrs. Green. Please get her chart, Anna.” With that he went back to his office.

“Nice talking to you,” Anna Marie said sarcastically.

“Yes,” Linda replied, and walked past her to get to the inside apartment entrance.

In her fog she learned the streets of the neighborhood. A chubby couple, Betty and Burt, ran the luncheonette, called the candy store by one and all. Everyone gathered there. The men came to schmooze and read the sports pages in the Daily News or the New York Post. The young mothers dropped in for black-and-white sodas or a two-cents plain. The younger kids hung out after school, poking playfully at one another like bear cubs. The teenagers flirted and did their mating dance. At one time or another, just about everyone checked in at the candy store for the local gossip.

Linda knew some of the gossip was about her. She imagined them asking, What do you make of her? But she didn’t care what they thought.

The grocery was next door. Murray used the stub of a pencil to add up Linda’s purchases on the brown paper bag, as other customers sized her up. Were they wondering, That Linda, who does she think she is—she stuck up or something? She imagined so.

The butcher was next, and as she waited her turn the women gaped and looked at her brazenly. “Give the pretty doctor’s wife a nice cut, Herman.” This was from a frumpy-looking housewife trying for sarcasm.

I know what you’re thinking. Linda stared back. She some kinda snob? Right? Well, gossip all you want, you’ll get nothing from me. I’ve got nothing to give.

Up and down Watson Avenue the neighborhood lived and breathed. And Linda moved like a shadow, speaking only when spoken to. She was meticulous in her dress. She wore calf-length pencil-slim skirts and simple blouses with matching cardigans. Her hair was page-boy length, her outfits in muted colors. Looking as lifeless as she felt.

Nobody knew of the cancer that grew inside her. A cancer called the Bronx.

On an occasional Saturday night, when Frank could make time to go out, they spent it with his best friends. Linda had been introduced to Anna Marie’s husband, Johnny. The three buddies were close, sharing childhood memories and private jokes. Frank worried about Linda feeling left out, but she didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes they had dinner at Johnny and Anna Marie’s apartment in Parkchester, in a fairly new development that was considered very classy for the East Bronx. Linda didn’t like to cook so it was their place or eating out.