The Fifth Avenue Artists Society Read Online Free PDF Page B

in recalling our memories, the occasions I’d mistaken for love. My legs wobbled with disuse and I ran a hand through my greasy hair. I had no idea what day it was, only that today was ending. The sun was setting through the naked chestnut branches. I yawned, glanced down at the walk, and flung myself onto the floor. Charlie . He’d seen me this time, I was fairly sure of it, and I crawled to the foot of my bed knowing the only way I could avoid him was to hide. Mae had come up yesterday to say she was tired of covering for me. Franklin had said the same, practically begging. “Gin, he needs to talk to you. He looks awful,” he’d said. At the time, my brain had been churning with words I needed to write, so I’d barely heard him. “Did he change his mind about Miss Kent?” I’d turned to look at my brother who’d stared back at me saying nothing, but whose eyes said no. “Then I don’t care.”
    Charlie banged on the door below my window, shaking the walls. I could hear Mae’s footsteps, quick and light, coming from the study on the opposite side of the house where she’d been writing her thesis and preparing lessons to teach the orphans at Saint Joseph’s Asylum, as she did every Friday afternoon before attending her evening courses. I knew this week at the orphanage was especially important as Mae’s benefactor and frequent volunteer, Mrs. Greenwood, would be in from her country home in Millerton. Mrs. Greenwood had noticed Mae’s passion for teaching two years ago, and insisting that New York needed educators like Mae, had offered to pay for Mae to attend college.
    I sniffed at my skin, revolted by the oniony musk radiating from it. I couldn’t figure how I’d been sweating. We’d gone through the last of our coal and wood days ago. The house was frigid.
    â€œMae. Please. I know she’s here. I saw her this time. Let me in.” Charlie’s voice was soft and desperate. I pressed my palms to my ears to drown him out. I could so easily give in to his distress.
    â€œCharlie, you know we all love you, but I can’t.” I could hear Mae’s high-pitched voice through my hands, and let them fall to my lap. “She . . . she doesn’t want to see you.” I knew it pained her, but relieved that she was going to turn him away after all, I took a deep breath. Avoiding him was torture, but I didn’t want to face him—maybe ever. Mae yelled Charlie’s name, and I heard something crash to the floor and shatter.
    â€œSorry! I’m sorry,” he said. He must’ve pushed past her. I threw myself under the bed. His footsteps pounded up the stairs and I curled into a ball hoping he wouldn’t look for me.
    â€œNo,” Franklin said abruptly. His voice was close, probably coming from the landing, and I squeezed my eyes shut, thankful for my brother’s presence. “You can’t.”
    â€œLet me go, Frank,” Charlie growled. I could hear them struggling against each other, the banister screeching as Charlie tried to shove past him.
    â€œLeave . . . her . . . alone,” Franklin breathed. “You’ve chosen.” The commotion suddenly stopped and Charlie groaned.
    â€œGinny! You have to talk to me. Please,” Charlie yelled. “You can’t discard me so quickly.” His footsteps retreated slowly down the steps and I crawled out from under the safety of the bed like a hunted deer emerging from the brush.
    I stood before the mirror, staring at the startling vein-snaked eyes and pale skin that hadn’t seen sun in weeks. Charlie and I argued constantly, but the last time we’d fought to the point ofjeopardizing our friendship I’d been seven, standing in this exact spot. His younger brother, George, had just died and Charlie had been a wreck for weeks upon weeks, blaming himself for George’s death because he’d been there to see it. I’d been