Bowery Girl Read Free

ascended.
    Annabelle stopped at the trough on the second floor and splashed her face with water that dripped from a spigot on the wall. The squawk of a violin came from one of the flats. A pot clattered behind another door. “Give me a second to rest.” She leaned against the wall, and even in the murky light, Mollie saw how hard it was for Annabelle to catch her breath.
    â€œJesus, you think we’d know not to get a place on the fifth floor. At least they could put in railings, so when my legs give out I can pull myself up.”
    â€œAh, you’re just not used to it now,” Mollie said. “Give yourself a day and you’ll be running up here with your eyes closed.”
    â€œEyes open or closed, it’s still dark, ain’t it?” She took Mollie’s hand.
    â€œGot some Italians next door now. Sew buttons. Two kids and God knows how many adults. They stink, that’s all I know. Put garlic in everything and don’t never take baths. Seamus says they’re gonna ruin this neighborhood.”
    Annabelle blew out a breath. “Think we might find a place on the first floor when leases come up in May?”
    â€œMy, how upper-class that’ll make us.” Mollie pulled out the key she wore around her neck and let them in. She crossed the room to the barrel that served as their table and lit the candle, then pulled a shard of coal from a bucket and pushed it in the cast-iron stove. She lifted a jar from the shelf near the coal stove, scooped a bit of tea into a pot, then picked up a pail of water, pouring enough for two cups.
    â€œYou hung my clothes.” Annabelle ran her fingers over the fabrics of her dresses. Even in the dim light, the blues and pinks and reds danced. “I’ll have to let these out a bit. No corset, I guess.”
    â€œI even repapered the walls. Got a grand serial going on I’ll read ya later.”
    Annabelle lifted her wig from a hook, pulled it on, and flipped at the fake curls to make them bob. Then she bent to the piece of mirror on a shelf in the corner, and adjusted the wig’s placement.
    â€œAw, now I recognize you,” Mollie said.
    â€œDo you?” Annabelle pinched her cheeks. “Where’s my rouge?”
    â€œIn the box under the bed. I’ll get it.”
    Annabelle twisted the lid open and dabbed the red on her cheeks and lips. “Want some?” She held out the jar.
    â€œNah.”
    â€œNatural beauty you got, Mollie.” She opened a small box that held blue powder and a tiny brush, and then ran the color over her lids. “Better, huh?” Annabelle reached to her three dresses. “Now, which color for Tommy? He likes the red, I think.”
    â€œYa look better in blue.”
    Annabelle pulled the red from the hook and shook it out. She held it to her waist, sighed, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed they shared. “God, open a window. Oh, I forget, we don’t have one.” She turned the dress inside out. “I can take some fabric from round the bustle, here, and drape it in front. Make my own style. Give me your knife, Mollie.”
    As Annabelle tore at the seams of her dress, Mollie pulled the chair from the wall and sat, crossing her legs. She stuck a matchstick in her mouth and leaned back, so the front chair legs lifted from the floor. This was right; this was like it always was, Annabelle making pretty things and Mollie sitting and watching. The light from the candle spread in a golden circle.
    Annabelle glanced up from her work. “Tell me about your world.”
    â€œMy world?”
    â€œYour world without me.”
    â€œOh, that. I became a Protestant. Go to church every day. Bought a horse and carriage to tour the park.” Mollie shook her head in mock sadness. “Being rich is so boring, really.”
    â€œThe day I see you in any church, Mollie Flynn, is the day I’ll dance naked at Lefty’s and give all the money thrown at me