She steadied herself. She had gotten so little practice lugging this new body around. Even her trips to the bathroom, which had begun to feel like outings, had been curtailed. Most of the nurses, with the exception of Dorothy, who was lazy, now urged her to use a bedpan instead.
Fannie barely managed to tie her robe around her midsection. She had no hope of getting her feet into her slippers—it was as if they’d shrunk two sizes—so she kicked them under the bed and padded, barefoot, out of the room and down the hall.
Dorothy was in the lounge eating a tuna sandwich when Fannie rounded the corner. “Hey! What are you doing out of bed?” she asked,wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The smell of the tuna invaded Fannie’s nostrils and nearly turned her stomach.
“I was hoping to use the telephone.”
“You’re not supposed to use this one.”
“I don’t have one in my room.”
“Yes, well…” said Dorothy. Her voice trailed off.
Dorothy had been behaving oddly for several weeks now, and Fannie began to worry she’d overheard her poking fun at her, to Esther or one of the other nurses. Fannie had also complained about Dorothy to Superintendent McLoughlin on at least two occasions, and she suspected her mother had as well.
“I have to call my sister.” Fannie didn’t wait for Dorothy to grant her permission. Rather, she made her way toward the small table where the telephone sat, figuring that if Dorothy didn’t like what she was doing, she’d stop her.
“Your sister?” Dorothy asked.
“That’s right,” said Fannie, the handset already in hand. She dialed the operator and waited until she heard the familiar, “Number, please.”
“Yes, can I have 4452, please?”
While Fannie waited for the line to connect, she strummed her fingers against her stomach. What was the right tone to take with Florence? She was angry, sure, but also disappointed. She had learned that sometimes, with Isaac, disappointed worked better.
Her father answered the phone.
“Hi, Pop.”
“Fannie?”
It had been almost six weeks since Fannie had seen or heard from her father, and it felt good to hear his voice—always quiet and calm—in her ear.
“How is everything?” she asked.
A few seconds slipped by before her father said anything. “Oh, you know how it is.”
She didn’t, so she tried a different tack.
“How’s the bakery?”
“We just hired a few new drivers. I think we’ve almost got enough manpower to start distributing in Philadelphia.”
“Wow. Philly?” she repeated, astonished. Isaac hadn’t breathed a word of this to her. Did he think she wouldn’t find it interesting? “How easy is it to increase production?”
“Your mother’s eager to… say hello.”
Fannie ignored him. Now that she had him on the phone, she didn’t want to be passed off to her mother. “How’s Gussie?” she asked.
“She’s fine. Eating a giant serving of rice pudding as I speak.”
“I miss her like crazy.”
She could hear her mother whispering to him in the background.
“And how’s Florence?” asked Fannie. She could feel the hair on her arms stand up. “That’s really the reason I called. I assume she leaves for New York tomorrow.”
“Here’s your mother—”
