Note: Surely Janice and Mel had mothers. Set a generation before the Xena Scrolls in Pre World War I New York City, here's my attempt at an uber story - as a friend of mine wrote, "in a world where the warlords wear tailored suits, the peasants live and work in places of steel and concrete and justice is as lost as it ever was in Xena and Gab's day."

mailto:Dip49@aol.com

SECTION 6

     It was almost midnight and Belle had been up since dawn but she felt as if she never wanted to leave the little Greek restaurant. No sooner had one of them finished a story than another began - stories of vaudeville performers, hick towns they had played, scrapes they had rescued one another from when they still struggled with English, with American ways. And somehow they drew Belle and Mel into their circle too as the native born pair confessed their own confusion in modern New York. Belle admitted that she had been to Coney Island twice already, by falling asleep and missing her trolley stop. Mel told a tale of losing his job as a projectionist at a nickelodeon by mixing up the reels of film and how he had had to run for his life as the audience discovered his mistake.

     "Moving pictures, that's the future of show business, just you wait and see." Simon confided in Mel. "It's a perfect opportunity. You've got to come with me sometime to Jersey. I know this guy, Mack Sennett, who's making pictures over there. There's this new guy Chaplin. He's been making one and two reelers but he was telling me about someday he's going to make a full length comedy. Can you imagine? Who's going to sit that long for a comedy? Anytime you want to earn a few bucks I can get you a job as an extra. If you're willing to do stunts, you get a sandwich too. But they're all talking about heading out to California soon."

     Then suddenly everyone at the table fell silent and watched as a man and a woman entered the restaurant. She was an attractive blond, probably a showgirl but for once she was not the center of attention. Her companion drew every eye in the room and Belle noticed that there was a tension that was almost palpable among Sina, Otto and Simon as soon as he began to walk their way.

     He was elegant, compelling. Belle stared as she had never stared at a man before. She had always been discreet in her appreciation of a handsome face but this man was extraordinary. He was magnetic, arresting, and there was a confidence, an arrogance in his manner that implied that he knew all the secrets in the world and that it might be amusing to show them to you if you only dared. He was dark, with black flashing eyes and longish curly hair. His lips were soft and sensuous and Belle found herself wondering how his moustache would feel on... She sat up abruptly, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks and she looked around to see if any of her companions had noticed.

     But every eye in the place was riveted elsewhere. He stood at Sina's side now and the image was a stunning one. Both were tall, dark, striking. They were like a pair of Greek gods come down from Mount Olympus to dine in a New York restaurant. He bent down to take her hand in his.

     "Hello Sina. It's been a long time but I swear you're more radiant than ever." He kissed her hand but his eyes never left her face. The showgirl was angry and impatient. She was annoyed at being upstaged, jealous of the silent woman who had attracted her companion's attention. He noticed and with a certain malice that arose out of boredom, he enjoyed it.

     "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends? Your new friends, that is." His voice was soft, taunting.

     Sina responded, her voice chill and lower than usual. "Aristotle Bellisarius. You remember Otto and Simon. Sven Thorsen, Isabelle Gabrioux and Mel Pappas." She was frosty, obviously anxious for him to leave.

     "You can call me Ari. That's what Sina used to call me in the old days." He seemed to relish Sina's discomfort. He turned to his companion but neglected to introduce her. "Lillian, my dear, Sina used to be my partner years ago when I was in show business. We were an adagio team but really, it was the tango that was our specialty."

     Lillian was unimpressed. "I caught your act once. I thought you was just a singer."

     "Sina was a singer then too. It was an opportunity for both of us. And she was ready for a challenge, a change." Ari's tone was teasing, bemused. "You see, she had never really danced before we met. Oh, she knew a few basic steps but I don't think she had any idea of how versatile she really could be. Did you Sina? So much natural talent but she just needed the right partner to help her... fulfill her potential." He leaned forward, his lips close to her face, almost brushing her hair. "Well matched, weren't we, Sina?" His voice was low, breathy, almost a whisper. "Not everyone can master the tango. You have to know your partner's strengths and your timing has to be just right. But you and I...from the very first, we moved in perfect rhythm together- every night - from the opening number right up until the grand finale."

     Sina sat like a statue, expressionless as he taunted her. Belle could see the flush on Sina's neck and imagined how painful it must be for her, this very private woman, to hear him reveal and mock their sexual intimacies. She did not seem like the kind of woman who would be easily seduced and discarded but as Belle looked at Ari's eyes and Sina's immobile features she wondered just who had been seduced by whom when their affair began and who had decided when it was over.

     Mel, on the other hand, felt oddly protective. He had known Sina for only a few hours but already he had responded to her generosity, was attracted to her. And he knew men like Ari well. He had sold them newspapers, shined their shoes, emptied their spittoons when he had been a boy living on the streets. They tossed him a penny or kicked his behind depending on their mood and all the while he knew that the cost of their cigars could have fed him for a week. They were arrogant, mean spirited. And the worst were those like Ari who had been poor themselves but never looked back to lend a hand. He had sworn he would never bow his head to one of them again. And now he flexed his fingers, wishing he could use them to grasp Ari's collar and the seat of his pants and throw him unceremoniously onto the sidewalk outside. But no, he wasn't a raggedyass street tough any longer. No more fistfights in back alleys, scrambling to survive. He had worked long and hard to give himself some polish, to make something better of himself. And he would not embarrass her or himself by causing a scene.

     Otto and Simon could be more open in their dislike. They knew Ari had been nothing more than a good looking singing waiter when she had met him. She had taught him how to dress, how to speak, which wines to drink, how to present himself so that Simon could book their act into the private parties of the well to do. And once there, his need for her had been over.

     But Sina was less discomforted by the nature of his remarks than the truth of them. She had been the dutiful wife to Viktor's almost mechanical lovemaking but she had learned so much more when she had shared Ari's bed. As lovers they had been wild and reckless and she had been intoxicated with the force of it all, swept away by the excitement, the sexual release. But she knew that it was not love that had brought them together but only his ambition and her desire.

     Otto, naturally, was the first to break the silence. "Always the modest one, Ari. I remember those days as well. As a matter of fact, Ari was so very talented that all the girls wanted to dance with him. But instead he started giving lessons to rich ladies who could afford to pay for private instruction. And from all reports, they paid him very well for his...skills. He was in such demand he could hardly keep up with it. Isn't that so, Ari?"

     And then Otto turned to Lillian who had pursed her lips and pouted as Ari and Sina drew everyone's attention. She cared little about old show business stories and was anxious to get Ari away from this woman and all to herself. She barely nodded as Otto said, "And you, my dear, I'm sure you can't wait until Ari takes you on the floor. If he hasn't already."

     Mel quickly put his napkin to his lips and began to cough into it. Ari gave him a scornful look and began to lead the blond to their own table. But she hesitated a moment and stared at Sina, evaluating her competition. Lillian was fair, dainty as a kewpie doll at Coney Island and wondered what could have attracted him to this tall, dark woman. She was so silent and scary looking. So what if she was a good dancer. Big deal. You had to dance pretty good to be in the chorus too.

     "Hey Ari, how come we don't ever go dancing? Do they got a band here? Maybe if it ain't too crowded you can show me some of them steps you and Sina used to do."

     But Ari seemed annoyed at the question and started to pull her away. Lillian was angry now. First he hadn't introduced her to anyone and then he had fallen all over this damned Amazon instead of paying attention to her. Well, there were other fish in the sea. She pulled her arm from Ari's grasp and smiled at Otto. "Well, if Ari's too tired, then maybe I'll save a dance for you instead."

     Otto rose to his feet and bowed at the waist. "I'd be delighted, my dear. Nothing too fancy though. Perhaps a nice slow one. Remember, Ari's the professional. I just do it for fun."

     The angular planes of Sina's face had hardened into a stony mask as Ari had taunted her but now she smiled at Otto with affection, her blue eyes flashing. She chuckled softly, when the blond was safely out of earshot, a mellow sound that was almost a growl in her throat. Mel found it exciting, sensuous. He caught himself staring at her once again and smiled back warmly when their eyes met. He turned to nod at Otto, grateful that his wit had bridged the awkwardness and restored their playful mood but then he was startled to realize that his gratitude was mixed with a measure of envy - that it had been Otto and not he who had been the one to make her laugh.

SECTION 7

     But the party ended soon afterward and the men had piled into Simon's Model T for the ride uptown while Sina and Belle had headed in the other direction. The Buick was huge and powerful but Sina seemed at ease at the wheel. She'd pulled the hairpins from the chignon at the nape of her neck when they'd left the restaurant and her hair whipped in the wind as she drove.

     "Sina, you just passed our street."

     Sina turned her head. "Just one more stop. It's one of my favorite places in the world. Just another hour. Can you stay awake that long?"

     I'll be lucky if I can stay alive that long, Belle thought as they sped down the street. She tightened her grip on the seat, her throat tight. She'd never gone this fast in her life. They must be going at least forty miles an hour. "Where are we going?"

     "Harlem."

********

     The streets were deserted when Sina finally pulled the Buick to the curb. Belle was almost relieved to see the storefront dark, its doors closed this late at night. "A restaurant? Don't tell me you were still hungry."

     "We're not here for the food. Some musician friends of mine meet here after hours. It's like nothing you've ever heard before." Sina was smiling, like a child anxious to share a secret. She knocked on the door and a young woman let them in.

     The room was dark but for the lights trained on the makeshift stage along one wall. Belle could see that the chairs were already upturned on the tabletops and the air was thick with the smells of beer, spicy food and cigarette smoke. There were four young colored men seated on the stage taking a break - a pianist, a banjo player, a bass player and a cornetist.

     Belle was glad when Sina pulled down two seats at a table in the rear. She had known few Negroes back home in Kansas and she felt awkward and out of place. Sina said they were her friends but she felt like an intruder nonetheless. But then the piano player spotted them and shouted, "Hey Sina, how the hell you and your friend gonna hear anything way back there? Here, this one's for you."

     He put his cigar down and then ragtime filled the darkened room. Belle found her anxiety disappear as her foot tapped to the syncopated rhythm of the music. He played "The Stoptime Rag" and she and Sina started to clap their hands and stomp their feet in time to the music. It was as if the two had become members of the band, for at intervals the music would pause and there were only their hands and feet to keep the beat alive until the piano player picked it up again.

     Then the song ended and without a pause the others began to play "When That Midnight Choo-Choo Leaves for Alabam'." Belle had heard the song before and they were talented but she wondered that Sina had thought them so remarkable. But then suddenly the melody she knew was transformed. First the banjo stood alone, then the piano, the cornet and even the bass. Each band member took Irving Berlin's melody and made something different, something unique. They improvised as if in wild competition with each other, each stretching the limits of his instrument, taking turns, the music wilder, more inventive with each moment. Then the instruments blended again in a crescendo that took her breath away.

     Without a moment's pause, they began another and Belle turned to see Sina smile and nod her head. When the next song ended Sina lit a cigarette with her silver lighter while the waitress brought two bottles of beer to the table. They sat and listened to one song after another until finally the band took a break and Sina brought Belle to the stage to introduce her. One by one they waved their smokes or drinks to acknowledge her but it was the horn player, Marcus Henderson, who leaned forward in his seat to take her hand in his. He was handsome, his smile warm and welcoming. "A friend of Sina's is always welcome here."

     Sina ground out her cigarette in an ashtray and smiled at the band members. "We can't stay long. But I wanted her to hear you. And you did me proud."

     "You can't leave yet." Marcus took up his horn. "Come on, Sina. Just one before you go."

     Belle sat down in the darkness as Sina sat on the edge of the stage. She waited for the rush of melody but this time only the notes of the piano sounded, low and moody. The others sat back while Sina's voice joined in the song, the words simple and inutterably sad -"I Hate to See That Evenin' Sun Go Down." Her voice was low, breathy, unlike any style Belle had ever heard before. It was a song of loss and loneliness and Belle was moved by it, identified with it, wondered what reservoir of pain Sina drew from to sing that way. Then Marcus took up his cornet and joined her. She sang a bit of the melody and he would echo her voice, drawing his own tone and feeling through the horn until she sang again. There was a subtle give and take, a dialogue of music, slow, throbbing, until finally her voice and his notes blended and Belle could not tell where one began and the other left off.

     The waitress, Alberta, sat beside Belle, listening too. When the song was over, Sina rose and spoke to each of the men as they stood to bid her goodbye. Only Marcus remained as he had been. Belle watched Sina lean over to speak to him.

     "Is he angry or something? Because we're leaving? He's the only one who didn't get up."

     "He can't." The girl's tone was empty, bitter. "He got beat up and they broke his back."

     "Oh, I'm sorry. God, why would anyone do that?" Belle was genuinely shocked.

     "Ain't no why for some people. Him being colored is reason enough." Alberta watched Sina and Marcus onstage and her eyes narrowed as Sina bent forward and kissed Marcus softly in farewell. Belle barely had time to register the fact in her mind when she saw the flash of anger, of jealousy on the young girl's face.

     And then Sina stood beside them both. As Belle headed for the door, Sina hung back to speak to Alberta. Belle watched as she put her hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear. The young girl shrugged and nodded. Belle could not hear what was said, could not even see their expressions in the darkness. But she saw Alberta smile reluctantly and raise her hand in farewell.

     And then they were outside, sitting in the Buick. Sina sat quietly for a moment, listening as the music began again, another low and mournful song, its melody haunting in the chill night air. For once her expression, usually so unreadable, so guarded, reflected sadness and regret. Belle thought of Marcus, of Mrs. Murphy's little boy, of Sofia's ardent declaration, "She is very quiet, with many secrets."

     So with a dozen questions swirling in her head, questions she knew she would never ask, she talked instead about the music as Sina started up the car. "You were right. It was wonderful. What kind of music is that?"

     And Sina said, "They call it the blues."

SECTION 8

     Belle closed her eyes as Sina made her way through the afternoon traffic. Why so fast, she thought for the hundredth time. She realized what pleasure Sina took in her automobile, how she would look for any excuse to dash through the New York streets behind the wheel. She was always anxious to give Belle a lift, help her to run errands. But it was more adventure than good deed done as Sina sped down crowded streets while Belle closed her eyes. Guardian Angel, my foot, she thought. It's St Christopher we'll be needing if she doesn't slow down. God, I hate this car.

     Luckily it promised to be a short trip. The group at the restaurant had hit if off and so Belle had invited Mel to join them, as she, Sina and Otto rode to the Orpheum Theater to see Sven's movie debut. Simon had persuaded the strongman to try his luck at the Biograph Studios and the blond giant had got a part as a Civil War soldier in Griffith's "The Informer." Who could be better suited to silent movies than Sven, Simon had reasoned.

     But less than a mile from the theater, Belle was startled as Sina suddenly pulled the Buick to the curb and leaped out of the car. She stood on the sidewalk looking upward as the others watched, mystified. Otto shouted, "Sina, what's wrong?"

     She pointed upward. She was standing before a six story building that had once been offices but was now converted to a garment factory. Bundles of shirtwaists were being loaded on a truck but it was not the work of the laborers that held her attention. As they fixed their gaze in the direction of her hand, tendrils of smoke escaped from the third floor window.

     "Call the fire department," Sina yelled at a passerby. He looked upward too and shouted "sonofabitch" as he ran into an office across the street. A crowd had begun to gather on the sidewalk and a sense of dread was almost palpable. There were few things as frightening as a fire even to these hardened New Yorkers. There was a rumble of curses and prayers as every eye looked upward.

     Sina ran back to the car. "Belle, do you have your bag?" Belle nodded and was about to answer when suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass. The windows had begun to explode from the heat within and as if it were a signal, the crowd began to shout and the sound mingled in the air above them with the screams of the women inside. Smoke billowed from the broken windows where tendrils had appeared before and the screams grew louder.

     "Look," someone shouted and suddenly the first of the workers appeared at a window A young girl emerged and started to climb down the iron fire escape that hugged the front of the building. There was a sigh of relief as she was followed by another and then another and within seconds two dozen girls were inching their way down the rusted steps. They crammed their bodies tightly together, weeping, holding onto one another, descending to the safety of the street below. The first girl had made her way down to the level of the second floor when an awful grinding noise could be heard above the rush of the fire and screams above. And then the fire escape began to move slowly, like a poisonous snake awakened from its sleep in a jungle tree. It swayed back and forth for a moment as if undecided about its direction. And then, with a sickening crash, it fell to the pavement, burying its human load beneath it.

     Girls began to climb out of the windows onto the ledges of the building itself, desperate to escape the flames, the smoke. Sina ran to the Buick and quickly reached under the seat for the heavy canvas tarp that she used to cover the car in bad weather. Without a word, Otto followed her and as if they had rehearsed this a dozen times, he grasped the end of it and ran with Sina to the sidewalk beneath them.

     "We can do this, Otto," she whispered to him and then stepped back, stretching the tarp between them. "One at a time," she yelled. And the first girl leaped from a ledge. Her body hurtled through the air as the crowd held its breath. She hit with more force than her rescuers expected and there was less than a foot between her body and the concrete below as the tarp bowed under her weight. But Sina and Otto gripped its edge again as she ran to safety and signaled for another girl to follow. After she had jumped, two men hurried from the crowd to help and grabbed opposite corners of the tarp. The four of them held it more tautly now as one girl after another leaped from the ledge.

     Meanwhile Belle had joined the crowd who had gathered around the fallen fire escape. She grabbed one girl under the arms and pulled her body from beneath the wreckage. But it was too late for her and her lifeless eyes stared up at the sky. Belle shouted for help and the workmen who had been loading the truck lifted more of the rubble and Belle pulled yet another girl from the debris. Miraculously, this one had only a broken arm and scrambled away as soon as she was free. As the workman cleared more of the wreckage, Belle raced from one girl to the next. She tied a tourniquet around one's arm, around another's leg. Her hands were slippery with blood and she stopped to wipe them on her skirt but her touch was sure and strong.

     Behind her there was a sound like an explosion and shards of glass rained down on Sina and Otto as the fire spread to the next floor and the windows surrendered to its heat. The crowd of onlookers stepped back, frightened now for their own safety but the four grasping the tarp held their ground. The bodies that fell from the ledge into their net were those of very young girls, most in their early teens, but still Sina's arms and shoulders screamed in protest as she braced herself for each impact. They were a blur of movement and weight, each the same, until she looked up and saw a face she knew.

     "Sofia, Jump!" Her friend and neighbor perched on a ledge, as if undecided what to do. Flames licked out of the window beside her and the screams were muffled now by the crackle of the fire and the sound of falling rafters and breaking glass. The heat was intense but Sofia seemed frozen to the spot. Then she recognized Sina and her sob of relief and hope was almost audible. She stepped off the ledge as if she were descending the steps of a trolley car, calm, as if the danger were past now. And when she landed, it was Sina who cried out rather than she. For as Sofia scrambled to her feet, Sina saw that the tarp was torn now and useless in their hands.

     Then the first body fell to the pavement. There was a thump as it landed and the body lay like that of a discarded rag doll, twisted on the ground. Another followed and then another as the fire inside the building raged out of control. One girl hurtled through the air like a comet, her clothes on fire. There was sobbing and screaming and through it all, the thump of falling bodies.

     Otto pulled at Sina's arm as the first of the city's fire engines pulled up in the street. There was nothing they could do now but get out of the way. Sina sat on the curb and searched the crowd for sight of the others. Belle was busy with the injured and knelt by their sides, directing the newly arrived ambulance attendants to those who could be helped, waving them past those who could not.

     Sina flexed her arms and shoulders to ease their ache and leaned across to shout at Otto, "Where's Mel?" Otto shrugged and Sina rose, frightened now. She had been so focussed on her own rescue attempt that she had lost sight of him. Surely he had stayed with Belle. She scanned the faces of the crowd and cursed when she failed to find him. And then there was a rumble among the onlookers and several pointed to the back entryway of the burning building.

     In a billow of black smoke Mel emerged, carrying a young girl over his shoulder and leading at least half a dozen others. He stumbled under her weight and it seemed that he would drop her when someone from the crowd rushed forward and took her from his arms. There was blood on his shirtfront and he looked dazed as he searched for his friends in the crowd.

     Then Sina ran to his side and he clutched at her arm and lowered himself to the curb, coughing, trying to catch his breath. He waved her off as she began to tear at his bloody shirt and wheezed, "Not mine" before he was seized by another fit of coughing.

     She stood up before him, trembling with anger and relief. "You goddamned fool. What were you trying to do? Are you crazy, running in there like that? You could have got yourself killed."

     He wiped the sweat from his face and waited a moment until his breathing was regular, "Had to do something. I couldn't just stand there. There wasn't any fire at the back when I went in but the goddamned stairway collapsed. I could have got more of them out but the goddamned stairway collapsed." He looked at her and shook his head. "And you're a fine one to talk. There's glass flying everywhere and you're standing in the middle of the street trying to catch bodies in a tarp. You're as crazy as I am."

     She plopped down on the curb beside him. "Flatterer."

     Otto heard the exchange and motioned to her to move so that he could sit beside them. "Well, crazy or not, we saved some of them."

     Sina looked at the bodies on the pavement.

      "But not enough."

     Mel followed her gaze and his voice broke as he saw the crumpled figures on the ground. "Oh my God." He reached for Sina's hand and held it tightly in his own.

     Her voice was only a whisper. "Not enough, not nearly enough."

SECTION 9

     They had said little on the ride back to Belle's apartment. They had piled into the Buick, anxious to be gone before the reporters and the photographers from the yellow journals arrived. And even now they were quiet, as if any words they chose would be inadequate to the enormity of the horror they had seen. So they each set to a chosen task to fill the minutes.

     Sina made coffee and set the cups and spoons on the table. She studied each of her companions as she waited for the water to boil and felt a love for them that she could never express in words. Otto, so much like what she imagined a brother to be. He had not left Sofia's side and tried to comfort her now. He'd wrapped her in a blanket to still the trembling of her body and to ease the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. And finally, he had made her smile.

     She watched Belle as she treated Mel's burns. Perhaps now she had found a sister too. Belle looked so young, so open. She'd taken such a childlike delight in the sights and sounds of the city that it was hard to remember how strong and capable she really was. She fell asleep on the trolley and missed her stop almost every time she rode but today she had held young lives in her hands and saved them.

     And this new man, this Mel Pappas. There was a strength and decency about him she found compelling. She watched him as he sat quietly while Belle applied ointment to his burns. His eyebrows and moustache were singed and his face was red, as if he had stayed too long in the summer sun. She had told him to take off his bloody shirt and he had resisted. He had only his undershirt on, he protested. It wouldn't be polite... She had snorted until she realized that his fingers were too badly burned to manage the buttons. So she had knelt and undone the buttons for him and his face had flamed even more red as her fingers had brushed lightly against his neck and chest, as she eased his arms out of his sleeves, shielding his hands with her own from the scrape of the cloth. He had looked away, embarrassed, and she had a sudden desire to know more about this student of anthropology with the muscular arms and shoulders of a workman, this scholar who would run into a burning building to save the lives of people he did not know.

     The hissing of the coffeepot ended the wandering of her mind. She poured the coffee and beckoned for them all to come to the table. Mel was relieved to see that she had poured his into a bowl, so that he could press his palms against the sides and drink without bending his fingers. It was a little thing but he was grateful for her thoughtfulness.

     Sofia sat down first and broke the silence. "I don't know how to say thank you. You are all so good..." Her voice threatened to break.

     "How long have you been working there?" Sina asked, knowing that questions with specific answers would ground her, help her to concentrate.

     "A year. Anton knows the owner and gets a job as boss and then he says I will work in his place now."

     Belle joined in. "I didn't see Anton anywhere."

     Sofia shook her head. "No, Anton is outside. I see him go into the stockroom and later he goes outside. Then the fire starts and I don't see him no more."

     Sina's voice was cold. "What was he doing in the stockroom?"

     Sofia shrugged. "He has a bottle he hides there. Sometimes he goes for a drink."

     "And a smoke?" Sina 's blue eyes were as cold as ice.

     Sofia turned to face her, her eyes filled with horror. "I don't know."

     There was silence for a moment. Then Belle spoke. "They were all so young, maybe thirteen or fourteen year olds. Why was that?"

     Before Sofia could speak, Sina leaned forward. "They're cheaper. An experienced stitcher can get maybe fourteen dollars a week. Girls like those just starting out, they're lucky to get nine or ten. More profit in someone's pocket." Her voice was softer as she asked, "Can you tell us what happened?"

     Sofia drank her coffee as if she were drawing strength from it. "Always I am afraid for fire. The building is old, not like the last place I work. Not supposed to be a factory - too small, too crowded. Anton laughs and says maybe that's why the boss wants young girls for workers. They take up less space. Everywhere there is oil, cloth, rags, paper things to cut, shirts in baskets. Too many things to burn. When the fire starts, it goes fast. Some girls throw pails of water but it is not enough." She spoke quickly now, anxious to sort the facts out in her own mind. "We have hoses but no good. Everywhere rotten and they leak. So everybody starts to run."

     Her voice was quiet almost a whisper. It was as if she were recalling the scene, playing it back in her mind like a moving picture at the nickelodeon, its images clear and striking but somehow unreal. No one interrupted her, no one had the words to comfort her.

     "Nobody knows what to do, where to go. Nobody ever say. So everybody run like hell. But we can't fit in the door and the stairway is only so wide." She held her arms out less than a yard and Mel nodded his head to acknowledge the truth of it.

     He added, "That's why it collapsed. It was never meant to hold that many people. Once it went, the rest were trapped up there." He was angry and his eyes darted around the room as if he were looking for something to break. But then his eyes met Sina's and her gaze seemed to calm him down. He sat back and spread his hands out on the table to steady himself.

     The others were silent. They had not seen but they had heard the screams. It would be a long time before the echoes would fade, if ever at all.

     Sina voice cut across their imaginings as she asked, "Sofia, who owns that sweatshop? Who is Anton's boss?"

     " It is a Greek who is a friend of Anton for a long time. He buys many old buildings. Tenements, factories, old places that nobody wants. Anton and me, we live in one of the tenements once for part of Anton's pay but Anton says we must move. Too many people live there, is dirty, with rats and sometimes no water. Anton says his boss gives money to men from the city to look the other way and he gets very rich very fast. More money to buy more buildings."

     "Do you know his name?"

     Sofia shook her head, trying to remember. "He comes over on the boat with Anton. I dunno. Something Bellisarius."

     Sina put her cup down on the table with a loud rap. "Aristotle Bellisarius?"

     "Yes." Sofia took another sip of her coffee and her hand began to tremble and the coffee spilled over the edge of the cup. "I am sorry to make a mess. I can't stop shaking from the fire. Must be what Hell is like, I think..." Sofia began to weep softly and Belle crossed the room to hold her in her arms.

     "Why don't you lie down for a while? We'll let Anton know where you are when he comes home." She led her to the bedroom and closed the door softly behind them. Sofia sat, numb, as Belle helped her out of her clothes. They stank of smoke and there were tiny holes where embers had scorched the thin material as she had stood on the ledge moments away from her own death.

      Belle helped her into one of her own cotton nightgowns. "Try to get some sleep," she whispered as she brought the blanket up to cover Sofia's trembling body. She rose to leave but Sofia reached out and held her hand tightly, and would not, could not, let go. Belle sat beside her, murmuring, stroking her brow until finally the trembling ceased and Sofia slept, safe.

     It was dark in the bedroom and Belle's eyes adjusted to the harsh light as she returned to the kitchen. The others had gone and only Sina remained. She poured Belle a cup of hot coffee but turned her face away, so that Belle could not read the expression there.

     "That greedy bastard didn't give a damn about them. No fire drill, no sprinkler, not even a goddamned decent hose. Children dead because of his greed." Sina sat at the window looking out at the street. Her voice was low but there was an edge to it that Belle found more frightening than if she had screamed out her anger. "It's one thing to get money and presents from bored rich women who like the way you tango. But now he's gone too far. He won't get away with it. I'm gonna make him pay."

     "The courts will take care of him, Sina. It's not like it used to be. There's a new union, The International Ladies Garment Workers Union. They'll bring charges against him. There are laws now."

     Sina spun her head around. "I don't trust your laws." Her face was cold, hard. "And I don't trust him. He does harm and when you think this time he'll be punished, this time it will catch up with him, he walks away, smiling."

     Belle rose and put her hand on Sina's forearm as she rested it on the windowsill. But the older woman pulled away sharply, as if rejecting any tenderness, any softness. "They were just kids. Little girls, just frightened little girls. They must have been so scared. And the ones who survived....fear like that....it kills a part of you too. I know."

     And they sat and drank their coffee in silence for there was nothing left to say.

******

     It was weeks later that Belle was awakened by the sound of voices on the landing in front of her door. At first she thought it might be someone needing her help but as she pulled on her dressing gown, she could make out a man's voice and a woman's. It was late, about the time that Sina usually came home from the theater. Cautiously, without putting on the light she opened the door a crack to see if there were any trouble.

     "Stay away from me, Sina." It was Anton's voice, thick with drink or fear or both.

     "What's the matter, Anton? What are you doing here? Can't you sleep at night anymore? Or maybe you just came out here for a little smoke. Like in the stockroom." Sina's voice was low, conversational.

     "I don't know what you're talking about. I can smoke anywhere I damn well please." Anton was ill tempered, out of sorts. "Keep your nose out of my business."

     "You're so tough, Anton. You weren't so tough when you ran down those stairs and left your wife and the others to burn to death. You started that fire, didn't you, and then you ran like hell, you bastard. You're gonna pay for that, Anton. You've been pressing your luck all along but this time you won't get away with it."

     Belle opened the door, hoping that her presence would defuse the situation. Anton was a big man, a violent man, and she feared that Sina's accusations would force his hand. Sina was lithe and quick enough when she had the element of surprise on her side but this was a different matter. Anton was ready for a fight and his hatred for Sina was apparent in the look on his face.

     But in the dim light of the hallway, Belle looked at Sina and she was as calm and as confident as the first time they had met. Surely she could sense the danger, Belle thought. But Sina stood in the middle of the hallway, blocking Anton's way as if they were friendly neighbors just stopping to chat. Belle had a sense of foreboding, sure that there would be trouble, fearing for Sina's life.

     And then Anton walked toward her and muttered, "Get out of my way." Sina tilted her head and stepped back, letting him pass. Belle breathed a sigh of relief and began to retreat into her own apartment.

     But then Anton stood in the center of the hallway and added, "And keep out of my way or else me and my friends'll take care of you just like we did your nigger boyfriend."

     Belle spun around, more frightened than before. Sina stood in the hallway, her body rigid as she took in his words. She bent her head forward, her eyes wide, and raised one hand as if to catch the words in midair to examine them more closely. Her composure was shattered and Belle saw confusion in her eyes for the very first time. Her voice was grating, "What are you talking about?"

     Anton smiled at her, pleased that his remark had shocked her so. He was cocky now, thinking her wounded and vulnerable. "Didn't know that, huh Sina? Think you know everything that goes on around here, don't you. Think again, Gypsy woman. Me and Ari go way back. He got real mad when you left him. Said those rich women were just business and you was being foolish. But I figured you was already makin' time with some other sucker. So Ari told me and my buddies to follow you around."

     He was laughing at her now, his face inches from her own. Belle felt a tightness in her throat as she saw Sina take a deep breath, saw her regain her control, her balance. She was silent but her lips were a tight line and her eyes little more than narrow slits.

     "I seen how you used to go down to that place in Harlem. And when they closed up, I didn't see you come out with the rest. You'd stay there half the night. We all figured out what you was doing. And with a nigger yet. Well, we took care of him." Anton pulled his body back and stood laughing at her. "He sure as hell ain't screwing any white women now. Or black ones neither." He turned his back to her and started back to his own apartment. He had his hand on the stairway banister when Sina spoke, soft and low.

     "I knew you were mean and I knew you were ugly but I never knew how truly stupid you were. I should have taken care of you a long time ago." Belle watched wide eyed as Sina slipped out of her jacket and laid it across the banister.

     "You can't pull any of your gypsy tricks on me, Sina. I'm not drunk this time. Maybe it's time I took care of you instead."

     Belle cried "Sina, look out!" as she saw Anton open his switchblade and lunge toward her friend. She held her breath, expecting to see blood but Sina had stepped to the side. And she was smiling. Belle was stunned. There was no humor in that smile. It was cold, calculating.

     "Oh, Anton. See? That only proves my point. Haven't you learned yet? It's not smart to pull a knife on me." Her voice was soft, taunting. Anton crouched, his knife in his hand, puzzled by her reaction. She moved slowly, circling him and it was as if the two were partners in some sort of lethal dance. "I'm a gypsy woman, Anton. Everyone knows how good gypsies are with a knife. And I'm good, Anton, very good. I could carve your heart out so fast you wouldn't know it was missing until you hit the ground."

     Belle's throat was dry. She was paralyzed, fearful that the slightest movement would upset the delicate balance of wills here in the dim hallway. She cried out as she saw Anton dart forward but the cry caught in her throat. Sina caught his wrist with her left hand and she suddenly held the knife with her right. The light reflected off its bright metal surface as she held it before her and Anton was frightened now.

     "Oh, but I'm not going to use a knife this time, Anton." She raised her arm and threw the knife across the hallway, sent it spinning in the air until it hit, its blade deeply embedded in the plaster wall. "I want you to feel my hands when I hit you."

     Anton backed up, unsure of what to do next. He looked at the knife in the wall, judged his chances of getting to it before Sina and thought better of it. He was sweating now, angry and fearful at the same time.

     Sina moved gracefully around him "It's about time you got a little of what Sofia has had to live with." Her hand flashed out and she slapped him in the face. He spun on his heel but she had drawn back now. "What's the matter, Anton? Haven't any of your women ever fought back?" She hit him again, harder, so quickly that he could barely react. There was a trickle of blood from his lip now and he wiped it away with his hand.

     Belle watched, mesmerized. She had feared for Sina at the start but now she knew that Sina was in complete control. She was so calm, so sure of herself, like the barnyard cats back home who would pass the time toying with a field mouse before they would casually rip out its throat.

     And then Anton rushed at Sina, reaching out to grab her by the neck. But she swirled and he found himself facing the wall instead. She stood behind him and bending her arm, she thrust her elbow into his back, above his kidneys. He lost his balance and the force sent him headlong into the wall. When he turned his lips were red with blood and Belle knew that his nose was broken.

     "Oh Anton, don't be in such a hurry." Sina's voice was husky, almost seductive. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time." She was methodical, businesslike. Her hand would dart out, her fingers rigid like a board or balled into a fist and she would step back as he gasped and tried to keep his balance. And through it all, she smiled. It was not a smile of pleasure or of excitement. It was more that she was fulfilling an obligation and that she found satisfaction in doing it well.

     And now Belle began to fear for Anton's life. In the past months she had found herself joining Sofia in a profound admiration for Sina. Her skepticism that first night had eroded until now she too saw the gypsy woman as the neighborhood did. It was not hard to attribute any good deed to Sina when she had done so many. If something were puzzling, Sina would explain it. If something were wrong, Sina would fix it. She was wise, she was wonderful.

     But the woman Belle watched now had none of the warmth and sensitivity she had come to expect. There was no pity here, no suggestion of the tenderness and vulnerability that usually lay just below the surface in all of Sina's deeds and words. If she were an angel at all, it was not a guardian angel but an avenging one. The knot in Belle's stomach tightened as she realized that Anton was going to die.

     And then Anton made a last desperate move. He risked turning his back to Sina for a second and with a shout he pulled the knife from the wall and swept it through the air hoping that he would slice her in half, that its blade would cut into her body, that she would suffer that most painful of deaths, eviscerated like a pig in a slaughterhouse.

     But suddenly she was behind him instead and her foot shot out and struck him behind the knee. He fell face first on the floor and she landed on his back, kneeling on him, her weight pinning him down. She grabbed his hair in her hand and yanked until his head was twisted back. She cupped her hand around his chin and held him there for a second. "Well Anton, what'll it be? I could give a little twist and that would be the end of it. Or maybe I could just break your back." She drove her knee harder into his spine. "Like Marcus."

     "Sina, don't," Belle cried out. "Don't. Please." Belle stood a few feet from them both and felt her hands trembling as if she held Anton's life in her hands instead of Sina. "Let him go. He's not worth it."

     Sina looked up at her. It was as if she had been unaware of the other woman's presence, as if the whole world had ceased to exist for her beyond the darkened corridor. The only sounds were Anton's labored breathing and Belle's quiet pleas. She looked down at the cowering Anton and stepped away from him. Without a word she walked to the banister and picked up her jacket. She walked past Anton, past Belle and turned the knob to her own door. Now Anton was getting to his feet but he stood waiting for her to leave before he ventured home.

     She turned and looked at him one more time. "Don't you ever touch one of my friends again."

     And then she was gone.

SECTION 10

     Sina sat smoking at the window, the silver lighter cool in her hand. She was smoking entirely too much lately, she thought to herself. All the bad habits coming back. All those things in her past that she had tried so hard to control, to overcome, were becoming part of her life again. The cigarettes, Ari, the anger that swept over her, the violence in her that frightened everyone, that even frightened her.

     "Why don't you just come by for a while before you go to the theater? The more people who show up the more impressive it'll be." Belle sat on Sina's settee while Otto rifled through sheet music at the kitchen table. "The way to fight these people is through the law, through the unions. The ILGWU is trying to bring charges against Ari for manslaughter. This labor rally will show everyone how many people really care about getting the laws changed to protect workers. There'll be speakers and some of the girls from the fire will be there too. It'll be like a memorial service."

     Sina shook her head. "Factory owners are rich men. One rich man's wallet speaks louder than a hundred immigrant voices."

     "You're such a skeptic. I'm not saying it'll happen overnight but if enough people in America want something badly enough, things can change. It's just that more people have to get involved, not just workers. Teachers, doctors, students, reformers. Mel says lots of the Columbia students are coming. I know how you feel about those poor girls, Sina. Come with us."

     Sina shook her head. "No. And you and Mel better watch your step. There could be trouble."

     "There won't be any trouble and besides, I've never seen you back off from a little trouble."

     Sina was adamant. "You don't understand. You were born here. I'm an immigrant. If there were trouble, if the police come like they always do, it would be more than just a night in jail for me. If I were arrested, I'd be branded an anarchist and deported. I can't go back. I'm sorry but I can't go with you." She turned back to the window.

     Belle was about to argue the point when she saw Otto shake his head, warning her off. She shrugged, confused, but Otto merely shook his head again. He walked up to the window and stood behind Sina, watchful, protective. Belle did not understand their response but she would respect it.

     "Well, then Mel and I will give you the lowdown when it's all over. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you like that." She was pleased when she saw Sina turn to face her, a half smile on her lips.

     "Well, the least I can do is give you and Mel a ride. I'll drop you off, what do you say?"

     "Thank you, Sina," she said. Lord help me, she thought. Another ride in the Buick. She tried to make further conversation but Sina was even more quiet and withdrawn than usual and soon she and Otto took their leave.

     It was getting dark now but Sina sat at the window long after Belle and Otto's footsteps had echoed down the hall. She heard the traffic in the street, watched her neighbors as they hurried home but tonight she barely saw them. Her mind was focussed on another time, another place. She closed her eyes and remembered as if it were yesterday.

     That miserable theater in Berlin. Otto had been so excited to be on the same bill with her. Every night she'd watched him from the wings. He had been an apt student, learning how to dazzle an audience, how to pace himself. He was gaining a reputation and she was proud of her protégé.

     But that night her head had pounded and she left the theater as soon as her number was through. It was raining and she'd cursed when there had been no carriage in sight. Everyone had been in the theater or the café across the way. She had seen no one. That was when he had grabbed her and pulled her into the alley behind the stage door. It was so dark, so quick, that she had never seen his face. The scent of his cologne would be in her memory forever but there was never a face to recall.

     He had been a big man, tall, for he had lifted her off her feet as if she had been a child's rag doll. In seconds he had dragged her into the coal cellar, ground her face into the dirt, torn at her clothing. He'd stuffed a dirty rag in her mouth and she couldn't breathe, much less cry out. He had growled in her ear that he would make her grovel, make her beg. He had called her names, had told her what he was going to do to her.

     But he had underestimated her strength and he had never guessed at the knife that was always sheathed in her high button shoe.

     Otto had hidden her in his dressing room, had wrapped her in his coat to cover the torn and bloodstained clothes. Still in his tall silk hat and magician's jacket he had poured her a brandy and planned their next move. For from the moment she had come to him, there had been no question that the problem was now theirs and not hers alone. Otto had gone to the coal cellar and moved the body, wrapped it in a cloak and had draped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him down the street, like a pair of drunkards on a spree. And he'd left him in an alley far from the theater.

      But he had taken the man's wallet and brought it back to her. She had been shocked and looked at him with dismay but Otto had said, we must make it look like a robbery. And together they had gone through his papers to learn what they could. He had been a rich man, a powerful city official and they knew that there would be no room for the truth in the crowd of questions that would come. There would be deception and lies but no justice. They did not wait to see if Otto's ruse had worked. The risk was too great. So they had dropped his money into the poorbox of the nearest church and had taken the next train out of Berlin. To the port of Hamburg, to safety, to America.

     And neither one of them had ever spoken of it again. And she had never told anyone of the dreams, how she would wake up and feel his breath on her neck. How in the middle of the night she would sit up in her bed and feel her palms wet and slippery, how she would look at them expecting to see his blood still there but find it was only her own sweat instead.

     The rational part of her knew that she was only defending herself, that he was a vicious rapist, worse than an animal. He was to blame, she told herself again and again. She had been his victim, she knew what he would have done. And afterward it might have been her own death if she had not defended herself.

      But still she felt regret. She had killed him in fear and anger. It had not occurred to her to frighten him off or wound him so that she could escape. With all the force she could muster she had driven the blade straight into his heart. She had killed a man and then run away in the night. She who had always taken responsibility for her actions, who had always valued the truth above all else.

     And other lives would be changed because of it. She wondered if he were married, if he had a wife, children. Now his wife would be a widow, perhaps his children would be orphans. She had killed a man but with that same single thrust of the knife she had wounded his family too. As the years went by she was more troubled by that than by the killing itself. What if they had not known of his actions, his vices. Perhaps they had waited up for him, waited while his corpse stiffened in a Berlin alleyway. They would curse the supposed robber, the murderer who had stolen him from them.

     The murderer.

     She lit another cigarette.

SECTION 11

     The streets were crowded the day of the rally and Sina's impatience was only matched by Belle's relief that for once, they would not careen through the streets at forty miles an hour. Mel sat quietly in the back seat. He was disappointed that Sina would not be joining them but Belle had warned him how strongly Sina felt about the matter and he was content that he might share her company for even this brief ride.

     "Promise me that you'll keep your eye out." Sina was insistent. "The Factory Owners Association has its back to the wall and they have powerful friends."

     "First sign of trouble we skedaddle, I promise. No one wants a riot, Sina. The idea is to honor the girls who were killed, not to get anyone else hurt." Belle was tired of Sina's warnings. "Do they look like a bunch of troublemakers to you?"

     It was early and most of the crowd had not arrived yet. There were a few placards in sight and they heard the sound of hammering as someone put the final touches on the makeshift stage where the speakers stood. It was a beautiful spring day and everything was peaceful, as if it were a church social instead of a labor rally. As if to reinforce the image, an elderly clergyman talked to a group of teenage girls, survivors of the fire, who were dressed in their Sunday best and crowded together on the grass. Then a trolley stopped nearby and almost all its passengers clambered down the steps to join the others. A crowd was gathering now and one of the union leaders began to address them.

     Belle was anxious to join them. "Don't bother to park. Mel and I will walk the rest of the way and you can head home. If you haven't gone to work when we get back, we'll tell you all about it, okay?"

     Sina nodded and waved good bye. But she'd only gone a few blocks north of the park where the rally was to take place when the traffic ground to a halt. A pushcart had overturned and fruit and vegetables littered the street while children ran in all directions after apples and melons to take home in triumph. She muttered a curse and made a sharp turn. There was an alley here somewhere that she could use as a shortcut. There were few deliveries at this time of day and there would be plenty of room for the Buick.

     But there was no room there at all. For the alley was filled with mounted policemen brandishing nightsticks and pistols. There were a number of paddywagons parked there too. They were ready for a riot that did not exist, ready for the riot they were about to create themselves. As soon as the rally got underway, before the crowd got much bigger, they would ride into their midst. There would be surprise, shouting. Someone would curse as he tried to avoid heavy hooves and would push someone else who would push back. There would be more shouting, curses and a rider would brandish his nightstick to clear a path, would swing it harder, wider until it met solid flesh. Then there would be anger and all hell would break loose.

     Sina felt a chill of dread. She had seen it happen before, in Berlin, in Paris, in Chicago. It was like an avalanche, its force escalating in minutes, its destruction random and harsh. She threw the Buick into reverse and its tires screeched as she headed back to the park to search for her friends.

     But other mounted policemen had already stationed themselves at the edge of the park and the commotion had begun as the onlookers watched uneasily. She spotted the two of them at the edge of the crowd and leaped out of the car, leaving its motor idling, to run to their side. "You've got to get out of here. It's a set up."

     Even as she spoke, the first shout was heard. A woman cried out and it was not known if it was from injury or from dismay. Fear and anger washed over the crowd at the sound of it as the police advanced closer to the stage. There was a scuffle as one man shouted an obscenity and a horse neighed in response, as if offended by his remark. A nightstick was raised like a signal and came down on someone's shoulder and then it was as she had feared and the riot began in full force. Women screamed and tried to gather up their children in their arms. The crowd, mostly immigrants, ran stumbling, raising their arms to ward off the blows while some more daring, more angry reached out to grab at leather boots and bring the riders down.

     Belle stood frozen, unbelieving. Seconds before it had been a scene of hope and good will. The demonstrators, the organizers, the girls in their neat Sunday dresses - her heart had swelled at the sight. All these people united, all sharing their sadness that so many young lives had been cut short, sharing the determination that it should not happen again. She felt a kinship with them all, a sense of righteousness, a confidence that things could change if so many brave and good people wished it so.

     But now it was a nightmare, sudden, illogical, incomprehensible. Those who would keep the peace had destroyed it. She stood stunned as uniformed men swung their clubs relentlessly, unmindful of their targets. She watched almost frozen as horses' hooves tore up the grass in pursuit of small underfed factory workers. It was like pictures she had seen of a foxhunt and the unfairness of it all brought a heat to her face that was anger, fear and shame all rolled into one wave of emotion. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she almost laughed as she saw the frightened clergyman, his coattails flying, his hat tilted at an impossible angle, run to the relative safety of the speaker's platform, dragging his young charges behind him.

     But the mounted men had the advantage and as the seconds passed, she saw falling bodies, people lying still on the grass. A man came running towards her, half his face covered in blood from a gash on his forehead. And at the sight, Belle broke from the stillness that had held her and she began to reach out to him.

     But then suddenly Mel was beside her. He took her arm and without a word pulled her away to the safety of Sina's car. As if she were a bundle of laundry or a sack of groceries, he lifted her into the back seat and deposited her there. And before she could cry out his name, he had turned to rush back into the moving crowd to find Sina and drag her away as well.

      But the tall woman was beyond his reach. One of the factory girls stood in her starched white dress, terrified, paralyzed with fear as a horseman drew nearer to her. Mel watched helplessly as he saw Sina lunge before the huge animal and push the girl away to safety. But not before its rider had swung his club at her. Mel saw her recoil from the force of it, saw her body bend as he hit her in the side.

     And then he ducked their blows himself and pulled her by her arm to the Buick. She dove into the driver's seat and gunned the motor. And then she weaved in and out of the traffic and for once, Belle did not pray that she would slow down.

******

     They were back at the flat in minutes. Belle was worried, anxious. "You should have an x-ray. Your ribs could be broken."

     Sina sat on the side of Belle's bed and shook her head. "No, I'm all right." Her face was pale and she leaned forward, holding the edge of the mattress, her arms tense even as she struggled to keep her voice even and natural.

     Mel watched her. "Let me take you to the hospital. That was a helluva whack you took." His voice was loud, as if he were spreading his anger around to disperse it safely.

     "No, I hate hospitals." She closed her eyes for a moment and tried not to remember Viktor's face, not to remember the odor of carbolic that always smelled like death to her. "Belle can take care of it. Please."

     "All right, but I still think you should have an x-ray." Belle went into the kitchen for her bag.

     Mel saw her wince as she started to take off her jacket and so he sat down beside her. "You could have been arrested." He held the sleeve as she pulled her arm out slowly. "Belle says you're not a citizen. They could have deported you." He held the other sleeve. "You don't have to go all the way back to Europe if you want to be rid of me."

     She gave him a lopsided smile as he laid her jacket on the bed. "So far we've been to a fire and a riot together. If you weren't around, what would I do for excitement?"

     Her feeble joke landed on deaf ears. He knelt and lifted her ankles so that she sat on the bed now. He was all but sputtering and Sina realized that he was nervous, worried about her. "This is more excitement than I need. He could have got you in the face or the head. Suppose you hadn't moved quickly enough." He fussed with the pillows and helped her lean against them. "You could have ended up under that horse's hooves and God know what would've happened." He was angry, afraid as the images flashed through his mind. And without thinking he reached for the buttons of her shirtwaist to ready her for Belle's care, unbuttoned the top button as if for a child and reached for the next.

     "I think I can manage that," she whispered and put her hand on his own. He sprang backward and rammed his hands into his pockets.

     "I'm sorry. I was just..."

     " I know. It's all right."

      And then Belle walked towards them and sat down beside her. She reached over and brusquely pushed Sina's hands aside to finish the job Mel had started. "Let me see."

     "Just tape it up for me. Please."

     Mel turned his back to the pair as Belle gave him a pointed look and cocked her head in a brief command. She was in charge now.

      "I'll go wait in the kitchen," he announced and retreated, shaking his head in embarrassment. He had only meant to help as he had undone the buttons and Sina seemed to understand that. But perhaps his fingers had moved so surely, so automatically, because he had imagined them doing just that a dozen times since he had met her. And he wondered if perhaps she had understood that too.

******

     Sina turned slightly as Belle laid her shirtwaist at the foot of the bed. Belle gently pulled the camisole up over Sina's head and tried not to hear the sudden intake of breath. I'd be screaming blue murder by now, she thought. The bruise was red, tender and covered most of her right side. Belle had seen billyclubs before but never the damage they could do. The cop on the beat outside their apartment house swung his casually, comfortably as he walked past on his rounds. Sometimes he would swing it in circles for the amusement of children and it made a whirring sound as it spun through the air. She had never stopped to consider that it was a weapon, never thought of the harm it could do, the pain it could inflict. And Sina was a strong healthy woman. It was a young girl that she had pushed aside, for whom she had taken the blow.

     "Here." She kept her voice low. "Let me check your ribs."

     Sina nodded but then her body stiffened as Belle ran her fingers lightly over her side.

     "I don't think anything's broken but I'd bet one or two of them is cracked. You should stay home tonight and let them start to heal." Belle reached into her bag for the tape. "Are you all set? Hang onto that."

     Sina wrapped her hands around the bedpost and hung her head down as Belle sat behind her and began to run the tape around her body. They were silent but for the sound of Sina's breathing.

     "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault." Belle's voice was barely more than a whisper.

     "What are you talking about?" Sina's reply was breathy, quick. She closed her eyes as Belle wrapped her ribs tightly.

     "You got hurt because of me. If I'd just listened to you, this never would have happened."

     " I didn't move fast enough. Not your fault." Her grip on the post tightened as Belle pulled on the tape.

     "You have every right to be angry with me." Belle tied off the end. "You told me not to go but I was stubborn."

     Sina reached for her camisole. "I never told you not to go. I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were up against. I was sorry that I wasn't going myself, that's why I offered you the ride. You two did the right thing, you and Mel. Somebody has to say something. Sooner or later someone will hear."

     Belle smiled at her and put the roll of tape in her bag. "Thanks for coming back for us."

     "Thank Mel. He's the one who dragged us both out of there. He ran in like Teddy Roosevelt charging up San Juan Hill." She smiled. "He's a handy man to have around."

     Belle nodded. "Well, right now he's worried sick about you."

     "Well, he doesn't have to worry. I'm perfectly fine."

     But in the next room the minutes passed like hours as Mel waited. Maybe it was worse than they thought. Maybe her ribs were broken after all. Maybe she was bleeding internally. Maybe...No. Belle would have called him if there were a problem. Wouldn't she? Where the hell were they?

     But when they emerged from the bedroom Sina was dressed for the theater and seemed relaxed. She caught the worried expression on Mel's face and smiled to reassure him. "It's okay. It's just a little bruised. Now that Belle's taped it up, I feel fine."

     Mel was unconvinced and looked at Belle for confirmation. She snapped her bag shut and shrugged her shoulders. "You try talking to her. She won't listen to me. I don't think anything's broken but she should sit still tonight and take it easy."

     Mel held Sina's jacket for her and watched her face as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. But her face was calm and unreadable. "Well then, at least let me drive you to the theater."

     "I'm fine, I tell you. You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

     Mel smiled. "I know that. But you did gasp every time you had to shift gears driving back here."

     "I wasn't gasping."

     "You were gasping. Very quietly but you were gasping."

     She hesitated and then tossed him the keys. "You just want to see the show for free, don't you."

     Mel was surprised and delighted that he had won this round. "Absolutely. And furthermore, I've never driven anything but an old ice truck. This is my first opportunity to drive a Buick and I'm not about to pass it up. Shall we go?"