Paper Dolls

|chapter one|

Brooklyn, New York City, 1947

Outsiders always think New York City is dull and grey, full of concrete and smoke. Most of them aren't able to watch how the windows glitter when the first rays of sunshine appear in the morning. None of them see how the red brick townhouses and granite apartments seem to glow gold in the radiant light.

That sunlight greets Bridget Maher as she first opens her eyes. The scratching of her mother's record player provides the soundtrack of her morning, Billie Holliday's voice filling the apartment.

With a groan and a stretch, Bridget slides out of bed. She takes a few minutes to get dressed in a full skirt that brushes just below her knees. She tucks in a plain white buttoned shirt, choosing to skip wearing a cardigan. The summer is in full swing and Bridget can already feel it sticking to her skin.

Bridget slept with her hair in pins, so it only takes their removal and a light shake to be ready for the day. Red waves fall around her ears. She swipes on her favorite red lipstick and powders her cheeks for the day, hoping it won't sweat off before lunchtime.

Rushing down the hall, the smell of bacon and potatoes fills Bridget's nose. Cora Maher is one of the best cooks on the block, always taking the time to give her brood a full breakfast each morning.

Bridget grabs a piece of bacon, sticking it in her mouth as she slides into her low heels.

"Bridget Maureen, you better be stickin' around for breakfast. I'm not having my girl wasting away in the street," her mom exclaims. The Irish lilt to her voice isn't as pronounced as it was when Bridget was small.

"Ma, I have to be at the paper by eight if I wanna see the editor for a job."

Cora sighs deeply, something Bridget hears much too often.

"Your father has already started his watch. He needs you at the station."

It takes all of Bridget's strength not to roll her eyes.

"I can't keep sorting papers and getting the other boys their coffee. I'm twenty years old! I want an actual, real job. Wanda has one!"

Cora sits at the table, sipping her coffee. Her dark hair is wrapped in a scarf that matches the green in her eyes.

"I'm sure Wanda's parents, God rest their souls, would agree with me. Her and her brother need to work. You don't."

Bridget stands, taking another bite of bacon.

"I know I don't, but I want to. There's a difference. It's 1947, Ma. Things aren't the same as it was before the war."

Cora sighs. Her daughter is stubborn, just like her father.

"You know, most girls your age are lookin' for a man. Couldn't hurt to get one of these boys back from the front."

Bridget chews in contemplation. She doesn't want to broach this topic with her mother again. Every week another of her former classmates is getting married and Cora always shows her the announcements in the paper.

Bridget's mother walks over, lunch bag in hand for her daughter.

"When you are finished, I want you to walk straight to the precinct. There's been another scuffle down the block. Your father was out before the sun and I don't want you getting stopped by any of those men."

The sound of babies crying cuts through the music. Bridget hears the clatter of her other brothers getting out of bed, already arguing. Cora gets up from the table.

"By the Mother, those boys can't stand for me to rest a minute."

Bridget smiles, kissing her mom on the cheek in passing and heads out the door. The sound of Gaelic in her mother's sweet voice is the last thing she hears as the door closes.