Excerpt from "Raven Red, " Part One

From "Raven Red"

Passover arrives during the first week of April, and for a few days Lila Mae is temporarily granted a reprieve from twentieth century America.  She's on her way to visit the “downtown” grandparents, Frank’s folks, for an evening of sweet dark wine and family intrigue. Lila and Blood Brother are dressed up “like dolls” by their mother who believes she can show up the more traditional and successful Polish in-laws by using a well honed Hungarian knack for theatrical presentation. It’s a holiday Lila Mae looks forward to for months. Here she stands, all decked out in a new spring coat the color of a pale purple easter egg and quizzically labeled a "topper," a pair of similarly misnomered black patent leather "Mary Janes," and white lacey communion-type anklets with a small ruffle at the top. Selma also has picked out a sky blue Easter bonnet for the costume, redolent of the most shiksa of little American girl outfits, with a wide, navy taffeta bow that ties under the chin; she herself is dressed to kill in a tight suit trimmed with Persian lamb fur, red lipstick, and high heels of the shiniest, smoothest leather and thinnest ankle straps. It is late afternoon before the eve of the first Seder, still a couple of hours before sunset when they leave the house and walk the three long blocks to the train. Lila Mae Kimmelkowsky, at her post near the edge of the Seventh Avenue IRT platform, is leaning over the tracks, peering into the tunnel to catch first light of the chariot that will speed her back to nineteenth century Poland. Her ten tiny fingernails are similarly agleam with Revlon's "Ravin' Red"- which Lila hears as"Raven"- the  matching, vampirish nail polish that Selma keeps in the bathroom cabinet, and to whose miniature bottle Lila is allowed access on special occasions; she has applied the blood red lacquer herself, and being an amateur manicurist, much of the varnish has seeped into the crevices of her cuticles in uneven splotches. But no matter, her hands feel very important, and she is hoping they will be noticed. Excitedly she boards the train and sits at the edge of the seat so that the back of her bare legs won't feel the scratchy, sharp edges of the torn wicker padding. . . .