On my way downtown I asked Barbara downstairs if she’d like to accompany me. I forgot her Sundays are devoted to watching football, but she gave me $100 of her overtime pay to buy her a painting in case I ran into Lee Godie. As I hadn’t seen Lee in almost three months, my hopes weren’t high, but it gave my afternoon more purpose.
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By now the weather had turned windy. Every once in a while Lee would stir and settle in a different position. I didn’t want to wake her so I decided to keep vigil from across the street in Bloomingdale’s warm lobby. I counted 87 fur coats, amazed at how many men were wearing full-length furs. Fifty minutes later Lee stood up, stomped about, and gathered her possessions. I approached her, hoping she would be in a good mood. I knew I had two strikes against me since it was Sunday; I was wearing slacks, which she disapproved of on Sundays, and if she was not in the mood to sell, she’d say she never sold on “the Lord’s Day.” I knew better than to remind her of the paintings I’d purchased from her on Sundays. A bus approached, stopped, and when it resumed its journey, I could see no pink knit hat anywhere. I looked up and down, but there was no pink head. She had vanished. I dashed across the street and into the Westin Hotel.
Lee’s face was devoid of any makeup. The last few times I’d seen her, she had huge red rouge balls on her cheeks. Today her socks were mismatched, and her hands and fingernails were very dirty. Her paintings were tied with a gray scarf and I asked if I could see them. She was very accommodating and showed me a painting of a woman with a flapper hairdo. The other was typical of Lee’s women, with long full hair reaching to the shoulders, a black forehead band, big wide eyes with spiderlike eyelashes. An open, stare-you-down expression. All around the figure Merry Christmas was written with great flourishes. I counted 18 times. I was smitten. Lee had rolled the painting so that the nose was somewhat creased and soiled. “Oh, it has a broken nose,” I said.
I said I’d better go, as it was getting late. “No,” said Lee, “don’t go yet; let’s sit and chat, you have time.” I asked if she was staying at the same hotel where she stayed last winter. “No, they kicked me out, but do you know where the Wacker Hotel is? I think I’ll stay there tonight.” I suggested we take a cab there and I would ride with her. She didn’t answer, instead she sat up. “Oh, let me leave a couple coins.” She took two dimes from her pocket and carefully put them under the saucer. “It’s getting late, you should go home, I’ll be all right.”
