Nothing Is Quite Forgotten In Brooklyn - Plot & Excerpts
Marlene knew something about life that Con’s mother would never know, but which Constance seemed to have been born suspecting, looking around in her crib for an eye to catch. Their conversations were about other people’s foolishness. “I know!” Con would say, pressing herself into her mother’s heavy red drapes, her back to the room, eyeing the jagged, crisscrossed Brooklyn sky, which darkened as they spoke. It almost seemed that Marlene had called to speak to Con, not to her mother. “Did you watch that program about the camps?” Marlene might ask. Con knew which camps Marlene meant. “No,” she’d have to say. They watched Sid Caesar. They watched Lucille Ball. Then Constance would begin to feel jealous, and soon—as if jealousy caused what happened next—Marlene would say, “Well, let me talk to Gert.” Con’s mother was a little dull, and it puzzled Con that Marlene preferred Gert anyway. Con’s father died suddenly when she was twelve, and after that—maybe even before that—Marlene called to be of use: Gert was not a particularly sad or helpless widow, but she worried, and she didn’t understand money.
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