Damsel in Distress
By Sarol
Sunday, February 03, 2002

When I was done, I suppose there was some noise. We were, after all, in New York, so there were plenty of people around. But Jack and Spot were silent. And that silence was all I heard; it rang in my ears.
“Say something,” I pled with them, not caring who would break the silence or what they’d say. This cruel silence was worse than the yelling I’d expected.
Shaking his head, Jack turned around and walked away, out of my sight and out of my life. “Wait!” I called. Even though I wasn’t still in love with Jack, I couldn’t let our relationship end like that. Without even acknowledging that I had said anything at all, he kept on walking, and I gave up and turned to Spot.
“Spot,” I whispered, stepping close into his arms and laying my head on his shoulder. Every previous time I’d done this his embrace had been warm and comforting. Now it was cold, like his eyes. “Spot, please.” I hugged him tighter.
Finally he spoke, his words carefully controlled to conceal any emotion. They cut me so deep that I wished he’d remained silent. “You said you loved me. Or wait. Maddie said she loved me. You ain’t the Maddie I fell in love with.” He was mocking me, and since it came from someone I loved so much it hurt so much more than Jack’s cold exit.
“I am,” I whispered, trying to hug him even more tightly, but he threw my arms down, causing the tears that had been welling up in my eyes to fall.
“You ain’t gonna make this better by crying about it!” Spot yelled at me, just like I’d expected. Only I’d expected to be tough about it. I realized then that besides Medda, Spot was the only person to have ever seen me cry.
“I know.” I couldn’t meet his eyes now, so I looked away for a second or two before speaking again. “But you know how I feel. You heard my song.”
Spot looked a little bit thoughtful. I suppose he hadn’t made the connection that the song was for him, because while he was hearing it he thought Jack’s girlfriend was singing it. But he banished his thoughtful expression as quickly as it had appeared on his face, and I’m not sure if it was ever really there or if I just imagined it. Spot grabbed onto my shoulders and his eyes burned into mine. It was dark by then, so I couldn’t read his expression, but I could feel that his hands were trembling slightly, either with anger or with emotion. He spoke again, his voice, which was colder than the chilly breeze that was starting to blow, making me shiver. “I thought you loved me, Maddie Thatcher. Or whatever the hell your name is. I even thought I loved you back. And I don’t feel so deeply about many girls. But you were cheating on me. So I can’t love you anymore. We’re done.”
He dropped my shoulders and started to walk away. I’d called after Jack, but I didn’t try to call after Spot. I knew it was hopeless. He’d never been this angry with me before. Besides, I didn’t trust my voice to work. So instead, I kept my dignity and watched him leave. Until he was out of my view, I stood with my head held high. Then, inevitably, he disappeared from view, and the only way to describe my following actions is to say that I cracked, because that’s exactly what I did. I dropped my ‘tough girl’ cover and I started bawling, right on that busy street. I leaned against the door to Medda’s, and slid down until I was sitting down on the cold ground, getting my beautiful silk dress dirty, but not really caring.
I just sat there, bawling, for I don’t know how long. Someone felt sorry for me and gave me a dime, but I was crying too hard to thank him. Since I wasn’t there, Medda was closing up for the night. When she came to the front, she saw me sitting there and ran outside. “Maddie, what happened?”
The look on her face made me cry harder. Medda cared about me. And it hurt to know that I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve for anyone to care about me, not after what I did to Jack and Spot.
“Come on.” Without asking any more questions, she led me inside and we sat on the stage, where I used to flirt with Jack. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head no, and so for a few moments, Medda just sat by me, letting me cry. Finally, I was able to get my voice back, though it trembled badly. “You don’t have to stay with me anymore, Medda. I don’t feel like talking about it now. Maybe later, but not now.”
“You sure?” Medda looked a little bit hurt. I’d always been able to talk to her, but now I was too ashamed.
I nodded, and wiping away my tears, I smiled at her. I think she believed me that nothing was wrong, or else she just knew how much I wanted to be left alone. Whichever one, she left after that, and I let the rest of my tears go. Burying my face in my hands, I cried on the stage for God knows how long.
Finally I wiped my face on my apron, and I must have jumped a mile high when I heard a voice from in front of me.
“Francis Sullivan.”
Looking up, startled, I saw Jack sitting in front of me. I didn’t know what to say. Francis Sullivan? What did that mean? I didn’t say anything back, and he continued.
“My name is Francis Sullivan. Up until last year, I lied to my friends about my name, about my family, and pretty much about everything else. I know what it’s like to be caught in a lie. It ain’t fun.”
I smiled through my tear-filled eyes. “No, it’s not.” (Even though I’d been away from my birth family for so long, I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘ain’t’ after all my mother’s training on how to be a ‘lady.’)
“So even though you led us on for so long, I’d still like to be your friend.” Then he added something that made my heart melt. “Maddie.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, and gave him a big hug. It felt so nice to be forgiven.
When I let go of him, he looked at me for a second, and then asked me a question. “Did you love him?”
“Spot?” When Jack nodded, I went on. “Yeah.”
“He loved you, too.” Loved. As in passed tense. The ‘d’ at the end cut me to my very soul.
“How do you know?”
“He told me.” That hurt. Much more than the ‘d’ on loved. Because after Jack said that, I knew just how much Spot loved me. It was one thing for him to tell me that, when we were caught up in a passionate moment or something. But for Spot, tough Spot, to tell his best friend even though he didn’t have to, that was love.
I buried my face in Jack’s shoulder and mumbled, “Oh, Jack, I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”
Jack lifted my face and looked at me. “He’ll forgive you. You know Spot, he just acts tough.”
“Do you forgive me?” My heart stopped as I waited for his response.
Tilting his head to the side, Jack said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “So you like me as Maddie?” Now I felt like a complete idiot. I could have been myself all along.
“Well,” Jack began. “I heard some high brow say that a rose called something different would still smell good. Only he used fancier words, you know?”
I smiled. “That’s Shakespeare.”
“Shake-what?” Jack looked genuinely confused, and I laughed. That laugh almost immediately turned to a sob and I buried my head on his shoulder once again.
This time Jack let me cry, and I did until all my tears were gone. After that, Jack was like the brother I’d never had. I could tell him anything, and I could be Maddie like I’d always wanted to be. Although I wasn’t his girlfriend, our relationship was a whole lot more meaningful than it had been when I was Rosalyn.
Spot, on the other hand, held a grudge. I didn’t see him again for another month, and after I begged Jack he told me that Spot didn’t want to ever see me again.
I didn’t cry when Jack told me that, although I wanted to. I knew that I deserved every bit of Spot’s anger, but it didn’t lessen the pain, even a little bit.
“Take me to Brooklyn,” I told Jack one afternoon when we were having lunch at Tibby’s with the rest of the newsies. The newsies, surprisingly, hadn’t seemed to care about my cheating on Jack and Spot. I felt like I was being let off way too easily, but it was nice to have them on my side. “I have to talk to Spot.”
Jack hesitated. “I don’t know if…”
That’s a good idea, I mentally finished for him after he trailed off. I didn’t know either, but the truth was that I had to see Spot again. Every day that passed with me knowing how much someone hated me whom I loved so much hurt badly. “Please,” I begged with my eyes as well as my voice.
Giving a little laugh that just a few months ago would have made my heart skip a beat, Jack agreed, and we made plans to go to Brooklyn the next day.
For the first time since I’d been going out with Jack and Spot at the same time, I couldn’t get to sleep that night. The thought of meeting Spot after how we’d broken up fluttered and tore at my stomach, not like butterflies but like large black crows with glinty cruel eyes.
Just like we’d planned, I pulled myself out of bed not long after the sunlight began to peek through my curtains. It was a chilly mid-November morning, so I pulled my wool shawl tightly over my shoulders. I was wearing my green dress, the one I wore for my first date with Spot. Jack was already waiting for me outside of Medda’s. He didn’t say anything to me, just nodded, and we left.
We got to Brooklyn not long before noon and went to the restaurant where Jack told me the Brooklyn newsies liked to eat, kind of like Tibby’s. I was ravenous by the time we got there, and Jack bought me a sandwich. I felt bad for making him pay, since Medda gave me all the money I asked for and Jack didn’t have much, but he insisted, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Other people’s feelings were starting to matter more to me, and I took them more into consideration now. I think it was just part of growing up, but that thought scared me. I didn’t want to be on my own as an adult, though I knew I couldn’t be a child forever, and frankly I didn’t want to be. I was just in those confusing ‘in-between’ years that made me do stupid things (like cheat on Jack and Spot).
Anyway, Spot didn’t come to lunch that day (just my luck). A sickening thought occurred to me: what if Spot had seen me in the window and refused to come inside?
So for nearly two hours, I pretended to be occupied with my untouched sandwich while Jack talked and joked around with the Brooklyn newsies, whom he was apparently friends with. And something that really scared me happened: I couldn’t speak. For the first time since I was timid, back-stage Annabelle and Spot asked me out for the first time, I couldn’t speak to these boys.
They noticed, too. I heard one of them ask Jack who his ‘girlfriend’ was and what was the matter with her. Jack simply replied that I was ‘just some girl’ and not his girlfriend. I tried to say something but nothing would come out.
One of the newsies, trying to be nice, came over and sat in the empty seat across from me after Jack moved to a new table. “I’m Lefty,” he said cheerfully. Lefty as tall as he was thin (and he was very thin) and had lots of curly, sandy-blond hair. His tan face was speckled with a few brown freckles, and he had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Over all, he wasn’t the best-looking guy I’d ever seen, but I could tell by his blue eyes and wide smile that he was a nice guy.
“Hi,” I half-mumbled.
“What’s your name?” I knew he was trying to be nice, but really. Why couldn’t he leave me alone?
I was about to reply that my name was Annabelle, because that was how I was acting, but I knew now how much trouble a measly little lie could cause, so instead I just said, “Maddie.”
“That’s a pretty name,” Lefty told me. “You from around here?”
I shook my head and picked a sesame seed off my sandwich, hoping Lefty would just leave me alone with my misery.
“Then where are you from?”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to get away from him, so I took a deep breath, and half-yelled, “Manhattan!” Lefty jumped a little, a surprised look on his face. Most of the other newsies stopped talking and looked at me.
It felt good to yell and be loud. In fact, that might have been the first time I’d ever been loud in my life. So I kept yelling. “That’s right! And I went out with Jack and Spot at the same time for several months! I’m a slut, aren’t I? And now Spot, who I love more than anyone else, won’t even speak to me! I’m not exactly having a nice day! So if you’ll excuse me, Lefty, I think I’ll be leaving now.”
Lefty didn’t say anything else. In fact, no one in the entire crowded restaurant said anything else. They were all looking at me, and one of their mouths was actually hanging open. I waited for someone to say something, but no one did.
Fed up, I sighed loudly and stormed out of the restaurant, grabbing my sandwich and shoving it in a garbage can on the way out.
I was a few streets away before Jack caught up to me. I didn’t even acknowledge that he was beside me, until he grabbed my hand and shouted that the Brooklyn Bridge was the other way.
“Well, maybe I’m not going to the Brooklyn Bridge!” I shouted back, even though that was my intention. Since I really didn’t have any plans, I slowed down a little bit, and Jack stopped me and turned me around to face him.
He had an amused look on his face, one that made me want to slap him. “Oh, yeah?” I wanted to slap him even more. “Then where are you going?”
“None of your business!” I jerked my arm away, and started running away from him. I didn’t know why I was so angry with Jack. I just knew that I was mad and that Jack was an easy target, even though he didn’t deserve it after how nice he’d been to me.
It wasn’t hard for him to catch up to me this time. Once again he caught my arm and turned me around. I’m not sure why, but I started crying hysterically. “Let me go, Jack!”
He didn’t let me go; instead he held my shoulders firmly. “Maddie, what’s the matter with you?”
What was the matter with me? Did he think I knew? “Everything,” I mumbled, and tried to jerk away, which only caused Jack’s grip to tighten, though his voice softened.
“What happened back there?”
“I don’t know.” I tried to wipe the tears from my face, but more were coming down so quickly it was a lost cause.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I hated that question! And people were asking me that a lot lately. Right now I hated Jack, too, just because he asked me that. So I did something that I knew I’d regret for a long time. I punched Jack on his cheek. Hard. So hard he let go of my shoulders for a moment and his hands flew to his face.
I took that moment to run away. As soon as Jack realized what I was doing, he ran after me, but I turned into a crowded street. The next time I looked back, Jack had disappeared into the crowd. Still I ran through the streets, dodging people. I ran until I was at the end of that crowded street, and then I ran into another. I ran forever, until my lungs felt like they were bursting and then I still ran. Tears were flowing down my face so much I couldn’t see any longer, but I really didn’t care where I’d end up going. I hoped that Jack had given up chasing me, but I didn’t dare stop.
What seemed like hours later, I finally stopped dead in the middle of a crowded street. As soon as I stopped, all the blood rushed to my head, and for a few seconds everything was black. Then my sight returned to me and I felt dizzy. There were strange people all around me, talking loudly and bumping into me.
I was too hot, despite the chilly breeze that was blowing down my back, and I could hardly breath. I gasped for air, but inhaled a cloud of smoke from some man’s cigar. I started coughing and I got dizzier. I thought I was going to faint, but I didn’t want to be lying unconscious on this strange, crowded street.
So I grabbed some woman’s shoulder, and when she turned around, I begged, “Please help me.”
“You poor thing,” she whispered, and holding onto my arm started to pull me away. I knew she didn’t have a New York accent, but I couldn’t quite place where it was from. Still I didn’t care, and I let her take me to her apartment.
She told me that I could lie down on her couch, and I without asking questions I did, even though I knew how stupid that was. I’d done so many stupid things already, what was one more? So I let myself fall asleep as soon as my head hit the hard pillow that was propped up on the armrest.
I woke up again to the sound of the woman speaking to who I assumed was her husband. “Matthew! Matthew, should I wake her up for supper?”
I kept my eyes closed, and listened to her husband reply, “I don’t care. Just keep your voice down so you don’t wake the baby. It took forever to get her to sleep.”
“Okay.” I thought I heard the woman kiss him. “How was work today?”
“Let’s not talk about it now,” the man (Matthew?) replied. “What did my lovely wife prepare for supper?”
“Your favorite,” she replied, and I thought that they kissed again.
I smelled roast beef and potatoes, and my stomach started to growl. I wished I’d had some of that sandwich earlier. I stirred and pretended to be waking up.
I opened my eyes a little, but neither of them were looking up, so I yawned loudly, finally getting the woman’s attention.
For the first time I saw that she had reddish-brown hair that was about a foot shorter than mine, though it was still very long. She had very pretty eyes, which amazingly were bluer than Lefty’s. Shifting my gaze to Matthew, I saw that his hair was light brown and that he had dark brown eyes. The woman looked about my age, and the man only a year or two older.
“Are you alright, sweetie?” The woman produced a cool washcloth from the kitchen sink and pressed it to my forehead.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Thanks for helping me. I was running away from someone, for a long time. I was just so exhausted, and”
“Say no more,” said the woman. “Save your energy. By the way, my name is Eliza Whipple. This is my husband, Matthew.”
I extended my hand and shook first Matthew’s, then Eliza’s. “I’m Maddie Thatcher.”
After that, I stayed for supper. I was surprised that they were so hospitable, but I appreciated it. They showed me their baby, Suzie, and then they asked me to stay the night there. Once again, it was against my better judgment, but they seemed harmless enough, and I really didn’t want to walk home by myself in the dark.
So Eliza set out some blankets on the couch, where I lay down to sleep. Unfortunately, I couldn’t. I was starting to feel guilty about how I’d run away from Jack. I knew he’d be worried about me by myself in Brooklyn, especially since this was my first time ever being here. I knew that Medda would be more worried. I’d just told her I was going to see Spot for lunch and I’d be back before dinner.
The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was hearing the clock chime three times, indicating three o’clock.  So I was very tired when the sound of Eliza preparing breakfast woke me up just after six.
Eliza offered to walk back home with me, and I agreed, mostly because I didn’t know the way. Together we walked back to Medda’s.
“Have you always lived here?” I asked her, basically just to make conversation.
“No, actually,” she replied. “I moved here from California when I was thirteen.”
“California!” I gasped. “Why would you make such a big move?”
“My mother wanted my brother and I to be raised in a more civilized place,” Eliza replied, and I asked her more questions about it. Soon we were chattering like we’d known each other forever.
It turned out Eliza wasn’t nearly as shy as me. She had had lots of boyfriends before settling down with Matthew, and she told me about each one.
I told her about my troubles with Spot, and she laughed, telling me she knew him and that it served him right.
Halfway home, I noticed Jack and Spot on the other side of the street. “Uh-oh,” I whispered, pointing them out.
Eliza gasped. “It’s Jack! I have to talk to him!”
“No! You can’t!” I whispered, pulling her back. “I can’t talk to Spot right now.” I wasn’t sure why not, after going through all that trouble to make Jack take me to Brooklyn, but I guess I was just too nervous. This really wasn’t the right time, because I knew Jack would be angry.  Then I realized something and added, “Besides, why would you need to talk to Jack?”
“A few years ago, we were in love, or so I thought. Then Jack met my best friend, Sarah, and without a second thought Jack dumped me and ran off with her! I want to tell him how happy I am with Matthew and Suzie.”
For a second, I couldn’t believe Jack would do such a thing, but then I realized I’d done basically the same thing to him and Spot. Still, I didn’t want to risk having them notice me, so I shook my head.
“Maddie,” Eliza whined.
“Fine,” I agreed. It was the least I could do. She did, after all, allow me to stay at her house when she didn’t even know me. “But don’t tell them about me.”
“Okay,” Eliza shrugged, and ran over to Jack, leaving me to quickly duck behind a building.
“So, how’s Sarah?” Eliza asked Jack.
“Eliza!” Jack sounded surprised. “How are you?”
“Well enough, with my husband and baby girl.” Eliza sound smug. “So tell me, how is Sarah?”
“We broke up a long time ago. Didn’t you know that?” Jack sounded really uncomfortable, and I felt sorry for him.
“I guess I did.” Eliza laughed.
Then Spot interrupted. “You haven’t seen this girl, have you?”
Eliza laughed again. “Well, I’ve seen plenty in my life.”
Spot wasn’t amused. “Listen, she had long brown hair. Her eyes were probably green, but they could have been blue, and Jack told me they were hazel earlier that day.”
“Really.” Eliza laughed again, and I crossed my fingers that she wouldn’t blow my cover. “What’s her name, maybe I know her.”
“Her name is Maddie, but she could have told you it was Rosalyn. Or she could have made up a different name.”
I couldn’t see their faces, but I could tell how they looked by their voices. Eliza was amused, and Spot was almost frantic.
“You do know that that doesn’t help me much, don’t you?” That was Eliza speaking.
“God, listen, she ran away from Jack yesterday, and we got to get her back. She’s never been to Brooklyn before!” Spot was getting angry then; his voice was starting to sound like it had when he broke up with me a month ago.
Although I just met Eliza, I was pretty sure she was trying to keep a smile off her face because now Jack was getting angry.
“Eliza, this ain’t a joke!” he yelled. I knew how selfish I was being, but I was starting to feel pretty special. “Look,” Jack went on. “ I know you, and I can tell by your face that you know exactly who she is. Now, please, if you know anything at all will you just tell us?”
“Sorry.”
After that, there was silence for a moment, and then Spot swore loudly. Eliza turned the corner and we both looked at each other for a moment before she burst out laughing and we started to walk back to Manhattan again, carefully to avoid being seen by Jack or Spot. I didn’t laugh with her, however. I knew how much trouble I was causing them, and I felt bad about it.
I got back to Medda’s in time for lunch, and I insisted that Eliza stay and eat with us. Medda seemed more relieved to see me than angry, so she didn’t yell at me, which I was glad about since Eliza was there.
During lunch, Eliza and I talked a lot. It turned out that she was seventeen, like me. It was strange to think that someone my age already had a husband and a baby. It actually made me afraid, like I had a fear of growing up. Although I privately envied Eliza’s quiet, orderly life, she told me that she envied my exciting one, in which I had run away from my rich family to live in a theater where I gave daily performances. I thought she was crazy. My life wasn’t all that exciting, was it? Plus, I had to deal with the pain of knowing how much Spot hated me, when I loved him more than ever.
After we ate, Eliza left, though I tried to talk her out of it. She said that she had to get home to her baby, who she’d left with a neighbor. I made her promise to return soon, though.
When she was gone, I thought for a long time about the past months. Life was a lot more complicated when you brought boys into it. My life used to be so peaceful from behind the stage, and then suddenly I was lying to two boyfriends, getting in fights, and running away in Brooklyn.
I also thought about Spot. Did he not hate me as he pretended to? I’d always thought that, like love, hate was unconditional. It was strange, but it seemed like he was worried about me when he’d talked to Eliza. But how could he be worried about someone he hated? I returned to the thought about boys making life complicated.
To perform that night, I wore a dark green dress that was covered with thousands of sparkly sequins that caught the light when I moved.  It was sleeveless and cut in a low-v in the front, and it reached just above my ankles. There was a slit on the side that reached a few inches above my knee.
I braided one thick braid at the base of my neck, which I wrapped loosely around and around to form a large knot, in which I poked a few white flowers. A few short, curly wisps of hair framed my face.
I was taking extra time getting ready that evening, and there was a reason for it. Medda told me that an old friend of hers was a movie producer, and he was coming to Irving Hall that night. I figured that once he saw me, if I did well enough, he might ask me to be in a movie. This was the big break I’d been waiting for.
Only one thing stood in my way. And that was the fact that no one would be in the front row waiting for me. Ever since I started opening for Medda, Jack had been in the front row. The only time he hadn’t was my first-ever performance, the one that I messed up. How could I perform well without his encouraging face?
But I was a professional, and I couldn’t let things like that get to me. This performance could make or break my career, and I wasn’t about to do badly.
I stepped up onstage. I’d told Beatrice to play ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby,’ but when I saw the producer in the front row, scribbling on his notepad, I knew I had to sing something that came from my heart, something that would catch his attention. ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby’ was a cute song, but it was Medda’s, not mine. So when Beatrice played a few notes, I motioned her to stop, and there was silence.
The silence was so thick that the air was hard to breath, and I regretted not just singing ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby.’ But it was too late, so I took a deep breath and sang the feelings I’d been having since Spot dumped me.
“I know I hurt you, but I begged you to forgive me. You wouldn’t forgive me; you left me instead. My love for you grew, but I can’t make you see.  In your arms is where I want to be, but we’re over, so our love is dead.” My voice was steadier than I thought it would have been, and it encouraged me to go on. By then Beatrice had caught on to the tune, so she played a musical section. When I started singing again, my voice was full of emotion, and I had everyone’s attention. “I love you so much, but you love me not. Come back to me, I love you Spot!” Against my better judgment, the ‘Spot’ slipped out. Medda never used names, but what else rhymed with ‘not’?
The audience was silent for a moment, the same deafening silence I recalled from my first performance. Then the clapping that followed was overwhelming. However, the producer was writing furiously in his notepad, and I couldn’t let myself look surprised.
Waving and blowing a few kisses, I walked toward the edge of the stage. I only had about two steps left before I would have disappeared from the audience’s view, but I stepped down wrong on my high heal and fell down.
Only ‘fell down’ wasn’t quite the best phrase to describe what happened. Basically, I fell flat on my face with a sickening crack, which turned out to be my nose. When I stood up, blood poured out.
The applause had ceased, and was replaced with laughter. Even the producer, who had been scribbling so quickly in his notebook, was laughing right along with the rest of them.
Medda rushed over to me, exclaiming, “Maddie, are you all right?” Even though she didn’t laugh aloud, I could see it in her eyes.
I waved Medda off and rushed upstairs to the bathroom next to my bedroom before she could see my tears. Once there I peered in the mirror. My nose wasn’t broken, but it was bleeding quite a bit. The blood was mixing with my tears in runny patches all over my face, as gruesome as that sounded.
I wiped off my face with a rag by the sink, staining it but not really caring. My nose continued to bleed, but I figured there was nothing I could do about it and started trying to work a brush through my tangle of curls.
“Try tilting your head back,” said a voice from behind me.
My heart skipped a beat, and I prayed that the voice was coming from the person I thought it was.
I was wrong, although I was just as surprised as if it had been Spot. It was Beatrice, who I’d never really gotten along with, giving me advice. I figured she had just come to make fun of me, but I tried her advice anyway. It certainly wouldn’t make my nose bleed any worse than it was already. Within minutes the bleeding had subsided.
“How do you know so much about bloody noses?” I asked her.
“I’m not as stupid as you might think,” she told me. “I’ve helped Medda with her share of bloody noses when she was younger.”
“What, she fell off stages, too?” I let myself laugh.
Seeing me laugh, Beatrice laughed, too. “Once, actually.” Then she became serious. “You know, I know what’s been going on with you and Spot.”
I became serious, too. “You do?”
Beatrice nodded. “Yeah, I have my ways of finding these things out.” Seeing my confused look, she added, “Like I said, I’m not as stupid as you might think. I saw you sneaking around with Jack and Spot. I heard your songs.”
I really wished she wouldn’t have said that. I was feeling ashamed enough without having her tell me she knew what I’d been doing. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid.”
“What, cheating on Spot?” Beatrice asked, and I nodded. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid. But not nearly as stupid as what you did afterward.”
“What- beg for forgiveness?” How could that be stupid?
“No, not the begging for forgiveness. The letting him get away from you, the hiding you’ve been doing.”
“But he said he didn’t want to see me again!” I protested. Wouldn’t he get angrier if I wouldn’t leave him alone?
“Didn’t he say he loved you?” I nodded again, and Beatrice continued. “Then why would a mistake ruin all that love?”
“Because all that love was built on lies,” I told her. “You don’t understand.”
“No?” Beatrice asked. “I suppose I don’t. I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I was in love once.”
Beatrice? In love? That was a strange thought. I suppose I never even figured she was young at all, with her frizzy black hair and bushy black eyebrows. “Yeah?” I asked, hoping she’d tell me more.
“Yeah.” She sighed and went on with her story. “Yeah, those were the days. I was in love, and he asked me to marry him. Then my little cousin Medda’s parents died, and I took her in to live with me until I could find her a family. She must have been, oh, ten. So I put off the wedding for a while, and John, he was my fiancé, got a bit mad. He got over it before long, but Medda stayed with me for a long time. Soon she was sixteen, and quite the little flirt. She could have lived on her own, and John asked me to marry him again. But Medda told me she wanted to keep living with me, and so I told John no again. That time he got angry. He threatened to break up with me, so I promised that I would marry him in a year. Then Medda got her own theater to perform in, and she told me she needed me as a maid. So I tried to postpone the wedding yet one more time. This time, John did break up with me. He said it was because I cared more about Medda than him. I tried to keep in touch with John, but he said not to contact him again unless I was serious about marriage. Medda needed me, so, resolving to get back together with John as soon as she could find another maid, I decided to stay for just a few more weeks. Then you came along, and I couldn’t rightly trust my baby cousin with you, barely ten yourself. So years passed, and now I suppose it would be to late to contact John again. The point is: when you have love, pursue it. If you put it off too long, it may be to late.”
That story was very sad. I was looking at Beatrice differently. She wasn’t a bitter old maid who had never found love; she just cared for her cousin too much to pursue it. She was smiling as she recalled those past times, and that smile brightened her entire face. Finally I spoke. “Do you think it’s too late for me and Spot?”
Beatrice looked thoughtful. “It all depends on Spot now. The only advice I can give you is to meet him soon. You saw what happened when I put off marrying John. I’m not saying you should marry Spot, all I’m saying is that unless you want to end up like me, go get him.”
“I never knew you did all that for Medda. I didn’t know you were ever in love!” I exclaimed when Beatrice was about to leave.
“Who did you think wrote ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby’?” Beatrice asked. My mouth literally dropped open, and Beatrice laughed, perhaps the first time I’d heard her.
After that Beatrice and I never talked about that conversation. We went back to never really talking to each other at all, but every time Medda sang, ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby’ I noticed a secret smile on Beatrice’s lips that was probably always there, but I was too naïve to have noticed.
Anyway, I was leaving the bathroom after my nose had stopped bleeding when the man I figured was the movie producer met me on the stairs.
“Maddie Thatcher?” He asked, extending his hand.
I nodded and shook his hand. “That’s me.”
“Tom Redford. Call me Tom, though. I’m that movie producer Medda told you about.”
“Yeah, I thought that was you,” I said.
“Right,” Tom nodded. “Well, I just wanted to discuss your performance.”
I bit my upper lip and nodded once, slowly, bracing myself for the worst.
“That performance was… I can’t even find words to describe it.”
I was able to stop the tears from welling up in my eyes, but they stung. Why was this man being so mean?
“Your song was so heartfelt, and by the expression on your face, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were actually in love with this guy!”
Was he complimenting me after such a terrible performance?
“Then, when you were done,” he went on, “you staged that hilarious fall! The look on your face! You looked so surprised!”
I staged it? Medda must have told him… Quickly, so he wouldn’t get suspicious, I laughed along with him.
“By what I saw tonight, you are a terrific actress!” Tom told me. “And I heard from Medda that that’s what you wanted to be. So, what do you say? Do you want to be in the movie I’m going to make?”
I gasped. “A movie! Me?”
Tom laughed. “Are you trying to look so surprised? You’re going to light up the screen! What do you say I come visit day after tomorrow, and we’ll discuss the details.”
“Okay!” How could I refuse?
“Great. Here’s my card.” Tom handed me a little slip of paper, with an address where he could be reached. He left, and I went to bed, thoughts of my conversation with Beatrice replaced with thoughts of my conversation with Tom. I was going to be in a movie! And, for the first time, I actually had a friend, a girl who was my age. For the first time, things were starting to go my way.
I started going to movie rehearsals instead of doing chores at Medda’s. Sometimes, Eliza met me there, and we talked during my lunch breaks. I recognized a few of the people who were in the movie from posters outside theaters, but I was too shy to talk to them. Since there wasn’t sound in movies, instead of making our voices expressive, we worked on making our faces expressive.
When we weren’t rehearsing, I just whispered to Eliza, although she sometimes talked to the stars. I think she was a little disappointed that she was married so she couldn’t flirt with them, but she didn’t say so.
The stars (and they had names: the guys were Glen and Frank, and the girl was named Sandrine) made fun of me for being so shy. They would ask me why I wasn’t talkative, and I would mumble some lame excuse and then they’d go back to joking around with each other and I’d talk to Eliza.
I’d forgotten all about my conversation with Beatrice, until one day, when I was turning pages for her during one of Medda’s shows, and Medda sang ‘My Lovey Dovey Baby.’
I gasped when I remembered Spot, and the next day, I went to Brooklyn all by myself. I knew the way, so I didn’t have to face Jack to ask for his help, although I knew I’d have to face him eventually. I walked slowly, dreading the moment when I’d meet Spot again after at least three months, especially since I worried him so badly by letting him think I was lost.
Once again, Spot wasn’t in the restaurant that the other Brooklyn newsies went to, but I went in there anyway. I spotted Lefty talking to a few other newsies in one corner, so I slowly approached him. “Lefty?” I asked, my voice quiet and barely audible in the noisy restaurant. Lefty didn’t look up, so I called his name louder, and he heard that time.
He didn’t recognize me, and I didn’t want to take the time to explain. “Do you know where Spot is?” I asked quickly. I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me after I’d made such a fool of myself the last time.
“If he ain’t here he’s selling his papes,” Lefty replied with a shrug.
“Yeah, I figured,” I said. I knew I sounded like a snot, but I had to get to Spot right away. “Do you know where I could find him?”
Lefty shrugged again. I knew he was a perfectly nice guy, but he was really getting on my nerves. “Why don’t you look for him?”
I sighed loudly and started to storm out. I think Lefty recognized me then, because he called after me, “You’re getting good at that!”
I let the door slam behind me, drowning out the laughter of the newsies. I walked quickly around Brooklyn, searching every street. I ran into Eliza, but I just gave her a little nod before continuing. She caught up with me, and I slowed down a little, though I was still walking fast.
“Who are you running away from this time?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Have you seen Spot?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“Actually, yes,” Eliza replied. “I saw him selling this morning. I actually bought one from him, too. Why?”
I ignored that question, too, and quickened my pace. “Where was he?”
Eliza had to jog to keep up with me. “I’ll show you. But first, can we slow down?”
I sent Eliza a look that yelled, “Of course not, now shut up and tell me where he is before I punch your lights out!”
Eliza raised her eyebrows and shrugged, and together we walked (and ran) down several streets.
Suddenly I stopped dead and Eliza did, too, bending over and panting. “What’s wrong now?”
“He’s right there!” I hissed, pointing Spot out at a corner.
“So go talk to him!”
“Do you think I should?” I asked, and Eliza gave me an exasperated look. “Alright, I should, but do you think I can?”
“Girl,” Eliza replied. “After you made me run halfway across Brooklyn, if you don’t go over and talk to him, I’ll drag you over.”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly, convinced not by Eliza’s threats, for Eliza wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly, let alone drag me down a street, but by the thought of what Beatrice had told me.
When I was halfway over to Spot, I turned around, but Eliza smiled and held her thumbs up. I turned back and kept walking toward Spot, quickening my pace but silencing my footsteps.
“Spot?” I finally said, in my quietest voice. Of course he didn’t hear me, so I spoke his name in a normal voice. “Spot!”
He turned, his eyes widening when he saw who I was. “Maddie?” He didn’t sound angry, or relieved to see me. He seemed more surprised than anything, like I was the last person he expected to see.
I’d wanted him to run over to me, hug me, and tell me how much he missed me and loved me and that everything would be all right again. That didn’t happen. The opposite didn’t exactly happen, either, because Spot didn’t seem mad.
“You get home okay?” He asked, referring to when I’d run away from Jack.
“Yeah, Eliza helped me.” I gestured to her, still standing in the middle of the street, and she gave a little wave.
“So she lied.” I didn’t get Spot right then. Was he angry or just trying to drive me crazy?
“Yeah, I guess she did.”
“Are you two friends now?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.” What was he trying to prove?
“Friends that lie,” Spot said.
Now I knew what Spot was saying. He was trying to emphasize that I lied to him. “Look, Spot, I just came here to say I’m sorry. Please, can you forgive me?”
“I did forgive you.” Spot was looking at me coldly with those blue eyes.
“Did?” I asked him, wishing he’d just get to the point so my heart could stop pounding so hard.
“Then you pretended to be lost, so I looked all over for you. Then Jack reported back to me that you were back at Medda’s, and you didn’t bother to tell anybody. Then you never came back here for two months so we could talk about it. I don’t know. Do you deserve forgiveness?” He wasn’t glaring at me, and he didn’t seem angry. He was asking me a simple question. A passer-by who didn’t speak English probably would have thought he was asking me about the weather.
“I- I don’t know,” I said, hoping he’d forgive me, but starting to doubt whether that was possible.
Spot shrugged. “What have you been doing these past months?”
“I’m in a movie!” I burst out, glad to change the subject.
“What’s it called?” Spot asked, and once again, I had no idea what that had to do with anything.
“It’s called ‘Damsel in Distress’,” I told him.
“Are you the damsel?” Spot asked me, once again his tone unreadable.
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“So you’re in distress.”
“Spot! What are you trying to prove?” I half-yelled at him.
“I don’t know, Maddie,” Spot said. “What do you think I’m trying to prove?”
Now I was getting angry with him. I guess I was the damsel in distress. “Spot!” I yelled. “When you’re ready to be mature and talk about this, you know where to find me!” I turned around and started to walk away.
“Not really!” Spot called after me. “You’ve never told me one thing that wasn’t a lie.”
I turned back around, tears in my eyes, and stormed over to him. “Yes I have, Spot Conlon. I told you I loved you.”
Spot’s angry expression instantly vanished. “I love you, too. I’ve always loved you.”
We kissed, then, like my character in my movie kissed her boyfriend. It was a long, passionate kiss; only it was different than the kiss in the movie, and any other kiss I’d ever had. This kiss was real. And so was our love.



The End
(For now at least. I’m planning on making at least one more Maddie story)