Mazie’s Diary, December 1, 1918
The baby died. Rosie keeps throwing her arms around me like that will change what happened. Like her arms can bring it back.
She says I should say something, anything. I don’t want to talk about it ever. No one can make me.
Mazie’s Diary, December 11, 1918
They took the mattress away while I was at the Venice. I slept on the couch the last ten days, and Jeanie slept next to Rosie. No one wanted to be in the same room as it.
Mazie’s Diary, December 13, 1918
I came home from work tonight and Louis was sitting quietly at the kitchen table with a glass of something strong in front of him. He looked like he’d been waiting for me to show up all night. Rosie was stretched out on the couch. She had a small pillow over her eyes. Louis told me to come join him. His voice was crumbling. I sat next to him and put my hand on his arm. I said his name.
He said: I am devastated for you and for this family.
I said: I’m going to be fine.
He said: They made us memorize poems in school. They just sit there in my head waiting for me, waiting for me to need them. My favorite was always Wordsworth. Do you like Wordsworth?
I said: I’ve never read him.
He said: You should read him. He was smart. I’ll buy you a book of his.
I told him I would like that.
He said: I can’t stop thinking of this one line of his from a poem called “Intimations of Immortality.” Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. And I believe that baby slept right through it, and doesn’t remember a thing now. I’ve got to be right. Don’t you think I’m right, Mazie?
He was crying then. These big gusts of tears from this big man. He was nearly choking on it. His whole body shaking. Rosie rose, I did too. We threw our arms around him. Our dear Louis.
I don’t know if we will ever be happy again. It doesn’t feel that way. I can’t imagine what that looks like anymore. Happy.
But I think we will feel better than this someday. We have to feel better than this someday.
Benjamin Hazzard, Jr.
What did I do? I went home. When she began to cry I realized instantly that I had made a terrible mistake, and that I was not where I was supposed to be. Of course I should have been with my mother all along. So I went home.
Mazie’s Diary, January 1, 1919
I dyed my hair blond. New year. I will leave the past behind. Jeanie didn’t recognize me when I walked in the door.
I said: Good.
Benjamin Hazzard, Jr.
She ended up being sort of tough-looking in the end, which surprised me a little bit. Certainly you could tell she had once been enormously sexy. I was admittedly a randy nineteen-year-old when I met her, but I can assure you she filled out that cage nicely. And having any attraction to her when she was my mother’s age makes me feel a level of discomfort I refuse to parse.
I will say this: Most of the other women in my father’s life were a bit better maintained. I haven’t used this word in a long time, but she was a real broad. I imagine she had bleached her hair for many years, and it was wiry, and the ends were split. All of the smile lines around her mouth were pronounced, and there was this pinkish color to her skin. She was somewhere between rosy and boozy. We all fall apart no matter what, obviously, but some of what we consume leaves a more vivid trail behind than others.
Mazie’s Diary, January 16, 1919
They passed Prohibition today. Just what all those soldiers fresh home from the war need — sobriety! Sister Tee came by the cage, pretending like she just happened to be in the neighborhood, but I knew she wanted to brag about it a bit.
I said: You got anything to do with this Prohibition business?
She said: Just said a prayer or two.
I said: Great, now I’ll know who to blame when I’m thirsty.
It won’t make a lick of difference though. People will find booze if they want it bad enough. This is New York City. We like our drink here. I know I’m not planning on giving it up.
Mazie’s Diary, March 16, 1919
We’re moving to Coney Island soon. Rosie told us tonight. Louis has business there now. Just like that, he has business. They’re looking for a house near the ocean.
Rosie said: And I think it’ll bring us all closer together. There’s too much city out there, getting in the way of this family.
Jeanie said: I feel plenty close to you right here.
Rosie said: I can’t keep track of you girls anymore.
Jeanie said: But I’m happy here.
I couldn’t bring myself to argue either way. I haven’t slept through a night since I lost the baby. Maybe this home was ruined for Rosie as much as it was for me.
Rosie said: You can work for Louis out there, it’ll be fun.
Jeanie said: Doing what?
Rosie said: He bought some bumper cars at Luna Park.
Jeanie lurched a little bit, like she was going to be sick.
Rosie said: You don’t like it, you got ways out.
She was talking about Ethan. We’ve all been waiting for him to propose.
Jeanie tried one last time.
She said: Didn’t you raise me to be something more than the girl who runs the bumper cars?
Rosie said: I raised you to be a part of this family. Don’t be putting on any airs with me. You came from the same house I did. You’re not too good for anything.
Jeanie said nothing after that. I thought she’d put up a fight, being far away from her beloved theater. But she just kept calm. Quiet face, quiet hands, still and calm. Give in like the rest of us, was what I was thinking. It won’t hurt but for a minute.
Mazie’s Diary, May 1, 1919
The Captain is here.
I looked up this morning in the cage, and he was smiling at me, and then he laughed. Was there a joke that was funny because I hadn’t heard it.
He said: Happy May Day.
There he was, as if nine months hadn’t passed at all, and it was perfectly normal for him to be waiting in line to buy a ticket for the matinee. I had thought of him so often it was like he had become some kind of dream.
He said: Did you get the postcards I sent?
I wished I didn’t have them hanging up behind me in the cage.
I said: I might have seen a postcard or two. Bragging about your travels while I’m just sitting here in this cage.
He said: I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you the whole time.
First time I met him, I knew he was full of lines. Second time I met him, it still didn’t matter. They all just sounded so good coming out of his mouth.
My hands were in fists and I didn’t even notice it until he slid his hand through the cage and on top of them. His voice got real soft.
He said: I don’t write just everyone.
I looked up at him and I kept my mouth tight but then I batted my eyelashes at him anyway. I couldn’t help it. He stirred something in my loins, or at least close to that area.
He said: Come on, how could I forget a girl like you? The most famous girl downtown. I bet people come from all over just to see that pretty face of yours.
I said: Well I do get a line.
I couldn’t let him touch me for a second longer. I pulled my hand away and lit a cigarette, and then held my other hand to my wrist to keep it from shaking. I was feeling so much and I couldn’t tell if it was hate or love or both.