Of Falling Stars and Distant Hills

Chapter Eight

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We do not have to become heroes overnight. Just a step at a time, meeting each thing that comes up, seeing it is not as dreadful as it appeared, discovering we have the strength to stare it down." – Eleanor Roosevelt
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"There we go, dearie. That should hold ya over till we get that dress dryin'." Peg said, her voice slathered thick with a New York accent. "Figures the chill would've come in tonight of all nights."

Lady mumbled a shaky word of thanks and risked a look across the bedroom, adjusting the pile of clothes strewn over her arms. Peg had raided the wardrobe of a half asleep woman with sunken cheekbones, and a night robe mercilessly pulled around her thin frame. Needless to say, she did not look pleased. "Thanks again, Dottie. Appreciate you lending the doll some clothes, cause she sure as hell wouldn't fit in anything of mine." She laughed loudly. Both Lady and Dottie did not join in.

Dottie scowled and turned to Lady."You can keep them, already too much ritz soaked into em'.

Lady flinched but Peg swatted at her. "I think ya forgot what it means to be understandin'. She's hada tough night."

"My whole life is one tough night." Dottie quipped. "Now out. I need to get my beauty rest, with whatever looks I got left."

Peg rolled her eyes and turned to leave, motioning for Lady to follow her. "C'mon sweet thing, you can use my room to change." On the way out Lady gave a slight bow of her head in Dottie's direction. She just huffed and slammed the door shut behind them with a snap!

"Ignore Dot, she's always a bit crabby." Peg said over her shoulder. Lady looked at her as they walked and was reminded of fluffy, warm, things like marshmallow topping. Her skin was white, she had a summery countenance and every  step she took looked like a sultry waltz, due to her wide hips and thighs.Thick bleach blonde curls shot from  underneath her silk turban to her ears, making Lady wonder if she dyed it that way. An ankle length, robe lined in fur trailed behind her, and paired with her heels she looked like a movie star.

"Here we go, it's not a five star joint but for being over a shop it's aight." Peg said as she unlocked the door to her apartment.

Lady followed her inside and looked around in wonder. She looked upon a drab brown apartment; dust collected between floorboards and the light fixture was dark with burn marks. A mismatching bed, vanity and wardrobe sat in the corner, beside a small window with a chipped paint radiator beneath it. A miniature and worn  kitchenette was squeezed in the opposite corner with an even smaller stove. What stood out to Lady was the newspaper and magazine clippings stuck all over the walls. Some were portraits of large cities, others of Coco Chanel fashions, of Sophie Tucker and Charles Lindbergh smiling forever in print.

"It's nice." She commented. "I like your clippings."

"Ah, thanks. Ol' Sophie's my hero, obviously." She said motioning to her hips with a wry smile. "And Lucky Lindy there is such a looker I just had to have him for myself, you know?" Lady shook her head in agreement, though she'd never been oneto fawn over celebrities.

"Well anyway, I'll give ya some privacy before I get to talkin'." She said, going to her dresser and fishing around again. After a minute she came up with a man's collared shirt and pants from the bottom drawer. Lady tried not to stare with surprise.

"Men." She shrugged. "Always leavin something for me ta clean up. But lucky for Trampo this particular man I'm with is extra scatter brained and left his clothes here for the millionth time."

At the mention of Tramp, Lady was reminded again of the unease she felt being parted from him. It was Tramp who had introduced her to Peg and insisted she follow the other woman to the living quarters above the shop. She hadn't wanted to complain or show how upset being apart made her, and had uneasily complied. After one day and I feel that attached to him? What is wrong with me?