Chapter 5

"Bill...bill...mash note from our landlord…" Janice paused while thumbing through the mail to wink at Mel. "That’s for you."

Without looking up from her work, Mel replied, "It’s in your name."

"Yeah, but he lusts after you." She shuffled the expensive linen envelope to the back, like a card shark arranging her hand. "You want this coupon for Bromo? Five cents off?"

"No. Pitch it...you get the same result for a penny’s worth of seltzer and bakin’ soda." She dropped a dollop of creamed spinach and garlic into small round of dough. "So, are you goin’ to tell me about this mysterious meetin’ with the President, or do I have to get rough?"

Janice raised an eyebrow. "Oh, honey, if ever there was incentive for keeping my trap shut, that’s it." She stood on her toes and kissed Mel sloppily on the cheek. "I’ll tell you everything, okay? I just need some time to decompress…relax…" She waved a fistful of mail. "…look at my mail."

Mel smiled, relenting. "There’s a card from Alice in there somewhere."

"No kidding." The card in question was an over-sized two-tone envelope postmarked ADELAIDE. Erring on the side of excess, there were a dozen 2 cent stamps affixed to the back. Janice’s name and address had been carefully printed in large block letters just above a very good illustration of her Electra. Smiling, she slid a fingernail beneath the flap of the envelope. "For a while there, I thought she might’ve forgotten all about us."

"She worships you. Don’t be dense." Mel turned to her. "Okay, you’re the one with the appetite of a teamster. Is 10 ravioli enough?"

Janice gave the card front, with its oversized daisies and flowery sentiments a quick glance. "It’s a good start, sweetheart."

Mel pushed her glasses up on her nose and announced decisively, "Better make it an even dozen." She set a saucepan to fill under the sink. "Don’t keep me in suspense. What does she have to say?"

"Well, there’s your standard birthday greetings, of course, beyond that she says to tell you ‘hello’ and that I should give you a big hug from her…she’s doing well at her studies…filling sketchpads like her hand is possessed…and she misses us…uh huh…I knew she was leading up to something." Janice drifted to Mel’s side and said, "Listen to this: ‘School’s out for winter break from 6th July through the 21st and Dad has promised me a holiday in the states if I keep my grades up. It’s just the incentive I need to finish out the period with good marks. Anyway, I’m missing you both terribly. Have a wonderful birthday, Janice. Love, Alice.’" Janice flicked the card rapidly against her palm and snorted, her eyes following Mel as she moved around the kitchen. "Subtle, isn’t she?"

Mel laughed as she lit a fire beneath the saucepan of water. "I guess we’d better clear our respective calendars for the month of July."

Janice closed the card and tucked it back inside the envelope. "Mel, you know I have no problems with Alice visiting. I adore the kid…"

"But -- " Mel leaned against the counter and folded her arms. "There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere."

Janice took a moment to form a reply, stepping out of her shoes, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake. She stopped within touching distance of Mel, but kept her hands at her sides. Her voice was resonant with affection as she spoke. "I see that kid, and I know how wonderful she is, how bright and funny and I…I’m sad to think that we can never have that for ourselves…you know?"

"Never’s a long time," replied Mel quietly. "Granted, the mechanics of conceivin’ a child aren’t necessarily - "

"Doesn’t it bother you?" interjected Janice. She could feel the heat even before Mel’s hands closed over her own. She looked down at the long, elegant fingers entwined in hers and squeezed them in response. "You want children, Mel. I know you do and I can’t give you --"

Mel silenced her with a kiss, tasting salt as she pressed her lips to each cheek. "I’m livin’ my fantasy," she whispered in Janice’s ear. "How many people can say that?"

Janice raised her hand and grinned, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You’re too good to me," she said, pulling Mel close.

Mel nipped Janice’s protruding bottom lip. "Well, you deserve nothin’ but the best…and that’s why I have to say this…your seams are a disgrace."

Janice looked over her shoulder, at the calves of her legs where the prominent seams of silk gathered and swayed down the length of her legs. "They’re not that bad." Mel turned on her heel, muttering something about ‘…looks like a mile of windin’ mountain road…’ and Janice knew she meant business. "Have I got time before supper for a hot shower?"

The water in the saucepan was just coming to a boil. "You do, if you don’t dawdle."

"Dawdle," echoed Janice, kissing Mel on the mouth, "That is so precious!" Turning, she caught sight of the waxed carton on the counter. "Oh, nearly forgot…from our neighbors…chicken soup like your bubka used to make."

"Oh, isn’t he a darlin’ man?" Mel opened the carton and inhaled deeply; the broth was thick with white meat, celery and carrots marinating in a perfume of black pepper and red pepper corns. She picked a teaspoon out of the bouquet of cutlery in the strainer and tasted the soup. "Heaven, just heaven. If that doesn’t clear the sinuses, nothin’ will." Janice wrinkled her nose. "I know…too much pepper for your taste. I don’t suppose you told the nice old gentleman that the digestive system you so happily abuse prefers apple strudel and knishes to anything even remotely healthy?"

Janice shrugged and laughed. "Funny, it didn’t come up."

"He caught me as I was comin’ up the walk with the groceries," Mel said, opening the icebox door. "We had quite a little talk. Did you know he was forced to leave his youngest boy in Bremen? The Gestapo just took him away in the dead of night."

Janice’s brow furrowed. "Yeah, I’d heard things like that were happening. I thought the older son said that they came over from Cologne."

"Bremen," Mel reiterated, removing a saucepan from the top shelf. "Took him away and no one’s seen or heard from him since," she concluded, closing the icebox door with her hip. "Isn’t that awful?"

"Horrible," Janice agreed.

Mel lit a low fire beneath a saucepan containing a dry paste of roma tomatoes, basil, onion and mushrooms. "The mama died years back, but the son, his name was - pass me the wine there on the counter, will you - Issac, for his daddy, taught school until the Nazzies shut it down last summer."

Janice wrapped her hand around a stout bottle of Sauterne and gave the label -- Chateau De Malle 1939 -- a passing glance. "You learned all that in the two minutes it took you to walk from the curb to the gate?"

"No, I had him in for coffee. He seemed so lonely." She poured a half cup of wine into the saucepan and moved the contents around with a wooden spatula. "You’d know that if you spent any time at all talkin’ with him."

Janice turned away from Mel and pulled aside a cascade of yellow hair, a wordless plea for assistance. "I think that level of conversational German is beyond me."

"Well, it wouldn’t be if you practiced more often," Mel admonished, squinting at the pearlescent buttons running the length of Janice’s dress. "As it is, your German is -- "

"Schrecklich. I know," Janice replied. She felt the nervous energy of Mel’s hands as they fussed with the catch at her neckline and lingered over the buttons at the small of her back; with a shrug, she bared one shoulder and looked back at Mel. "Thanks, doll," she said affectionately and stepped away to collect her shoes. "I’ll try not to dawdle."

Janice peeled away layers of silk and cotton until her clothes were a wilted heap on the bathroom floor beside the Cheviot clawfoot tub. It was original to the brownstone, impossibly, gloriously deep and long enough to comfortably accommodate two bodies in repose. She had spent their first night in the new apartment introducing Mel to the joys of water conservation; it appealed to the Southerner’s frugal side, among other things. She had taken to it with passion and an affinity for experimentation that both startled and pleased Janice. Lingering on that pleasant memory, she selected a cake of imported Patchouli from a gift assortment on the vanity and hung a large, thick towel next to the radiator. She stepped into the deep tub with caution and drew the shower curtain around her in a circle.

To her delight, the water came up warm at once. She turned her back to the pelting spray, enjoying the sting of hard, hot water between her shoulder blades as she soaped and rinsed her hair. When the water ran clear, she turned her face to the spray and thoroughly lathered her throat and shoulders before moving the soap lazily over her breasts. In the close, heady steam of spicy balsam, with her eyes closed, it was easy to imagine Mel’s hands on her, stroking, pinching, rolling the flesh between her fingers until the nipples were pebbled and standing taut in skin one size too small. She took a mouthful of water and swallowed, spit out a second mouthful through her slightly pursed lips, tracing the path with soapy fingers, down her belly to a liquid fire kindled within her. She wanted Mel so badly she ached inside, a desire so profound she likened it to acute hunger pangs. And so there was something more than a little masochistic in the detour of her hands to her hips and thighs - the self-denial was painful and the pain was exquisite. She had always been a creature of discipline and her restraint was such that she could contain her arousal for hours, feeding off the promise of release. These days, promise had a name.

She felt a wave of cool air as the shower curtain parted. Before she could turn around, she felt a pair of arms slide around her waist and the warm press of flesh on flesh. Oh, yes...Happy Birthday to me.

END CHAPTER 5