“Yeah, I want my own radio, too. And a dog house,” said Gabriel.
The boys kept adding to their lists, remembering that they wanted roller skates and baseball bats, the latest board games, and telescopes. Lillian raised her eyebrows at most of the items, but made a mental note of the things that she might be able to get for them.
Just as she was clearing the table, there was a knock at the door. Gabriel jumped up and ran to open it.
“Hi, Mr. Drooms! Did you come to help with my bird puzzle?”
Lillian walked to the door, happy that he had stopped by. She hated to think that another day might pass without seeing him. She saw that he carried two bundles of firewood and a small pink box that she recognized as coming from the bakery on Broadway.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“What’s in the box?” asked Gabriel.
“Chocolate raspberry cake. If that’s all right with your mom,” he said.
“Perfect timing,” she said. “We just finished dinner.”
Charles handed the box to Lillian, and held up the bundles of firewood. “I thought it would be nice to have a fire tonight. If you feel like it.”
Tommy took the firewood. “I can make the fire. Don’t worry, Mom. I learned all about fire safety in school today. Incendiary training.”
“I can help too,” said Gabriel. “We had an air raid drill today. We had to hide under our desks,” said Gabriel.
“Like that’s gonna help,” laughed Tommy.
“It could help if a brick fell. It would land on my desk instead of my head.”
“Well, my teacher said we’re going to have to build real bomb shelters,” said Tommy.
Lillian shifted the subject. “We were just saying that we have to start decorating for Christmas.”
“That’s right,” said Charles. “It’s less than two weeks away.”
“Hey! Let’s get our tree!” said Tommy.
“And hang our stockings!” cried Gabriel. “And put one of those blue stars in our window!”
Lillian stroked Gabriel’s hair. “Those aren’t for Christmas.”
“Yeah,” said Tommy. “We learned all about it in school.” He turned to Gabriel to explain. “A blue star in the window means a soldier lives there who’s in the service, and a gold star means they got killed.”
Lillian sighed; it was impossible to avoid the subject of war. It was creeping in everywhere, into her home, into their minds. She liked to think that when she closed her apartment door, she was shutting out the world. But that was becoming more and more impossible to do. She carried the bakery box to the kitchen counter while the boys busied themselves with the firewood.
Charles joined her in the kitchen. “I missed you,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“I was hoping you’d stop by,” said Lillian. “I stood by the door last night and waited for you to knock.”
Charles laughed and folded her in his arms. “Why didn’t you just open the door? When you didn’t, I thought you were still angry with me.”
“I am still angry with you,” Lillian said. “But I still want to see you.” She started to cut the cake into slices. “So what made you stop by tonight?”
“Something Mrs. Murphy said as she was leaving the office.”
“Mrs. Murphy?” Lillian asked, surprised at his response.
“Yes. According to Mason, she’s reconnected with an old friend. At least that’s the answer she gave him. He saw her twice with an older gentleman, and asked her who he was.” Charles sampled a bite of cake. “I think maybe there was something between them once.”
“Really? I’ve never heard you mention anyone. Not even her husband.”
“She’s never spoken about her private life. I always got the impression she didn’t want to talk about him.” He passed the plates to Lillian as she sliced the cake. “When she left tonight, I heard Mason ask her, ‘And where are you off you to, in such a hurry?’ And she just smiled and said, ‘There’s life to be lived, Mr. Mason.’ And I thought, she’s right. So I stopped off at Buttercup’s and bought the cake. Chocolate raspberry.”
“My favorite,” said Lillian, pleased that he remembered.
They carried the plates to the coffee table, and in between bites, Charles helped Tommy get a small fire going, while Gabriel opened the puzzle box and searched for pieces with straight edges. Lillian looked at the three of them together – at that moment, there was nothing else that she wanted. This was the vision that she had held in her mind for so long – simple evenings at home, small daily pleasures.
The fire burned brightly as they listened to music from the radio. An outline of the puzzle was starting to take shape on the coffee table as Charles helped Gabriel with the pieces. Tommy usually didn’t like to work puzzles with Gabriel, but having Charles there made it a more interesting pastime and Tommy soon became absorbed in finding pieces. It wasn’t long before they had the borders completed and much of the sky filled in.
Lillian gave in when first Tommy, and then Gabriel, asked for another piece of cake. She went to the kitchen and came back with more slices for them all.
After a few moments, Gabriel looked up. “Mommy, can I save a piece of cake for Tiny?”
“Who’s Tiny?” asked Charles.
“Gabriel’s new friend,” Tommy answered with a laugh.
Charles glanced at Lillian, and then asked Gabriel, “You mean – a little boy?”
“He’s more like a boy-man,” answered Gabriel.
Charles found a few blue sky pieces with birds in flight and handed them to Gabriel. “And what’s Tiny’s last name?”
“Tomorrow,” answered Gabriel, trying to fit a blue piece near the tree tops, then putting it back and trying another.
“Tiny Tomorrow?” asked Tommy. Slowly the pressure built in his puffed up cheeks, and he burst out laughing, burying his face in his shirt and rolling back against the couch.
“Okay, you two,” said Lillian. “Time for bed. Go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on. You can read in bed a while.”
Tommy jumped up, still laughing. “Night, Mr. Drooms. Thanks for the cake!”
“Just one more,” said Gabriel, with a puzzle piece in his hand. “I have to find where this goes.”
Charles pointed to where they had just pieced together a flock of birds. “Maybe somewhere up in here.”
Gabriel twisted his body and turned the piece around and around. “I found it!” he said, setting it in place. “Thanks, Mr. Drooms,” he said, running off to the bathroom.
Charles took a seat next to Lillian on the couch. “Tiny Tomorrow?”
Lillian leaned against Charles, glad to have a few moments alone with him. “His imaginary friend. I guess it’s one of the ways he’s dealing with the war and all the changes. He never spoke of him until we were on the train, coming back.”
“The war will change everything,” said Charles. He gestured to the glowing embers. “Even this. All fuel will have to go to the war effort. Rations are sure to follow soon.” He leaned back and put an arm around Lillian. “I thought we should enjoy what we have, while we have it.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the peacefulness of the evening. Lillian wondered if such evenings were going to change, along with everything else. She supposed so, and felt sad at the coming loss. But more than anything, she wanted assurance that nothing had changed between her and Charles.
“Izzy finally had a letter from Red. It took him four months to tell her that two of his crew were killed on the same mission that he was wounded. He said he’s recuperating and is being looked after. Not to worry. She’s hoping that he might come back home.”
Charles nodded and continued to stare into the fire.
“At least she has some explanation for why he’s been so distant. You never know how the fighting will affect someone. Like you said, war changes people.”
He caught the shift in her tone and turned to her. “Is that what you’re afraid of?” he asked. �
��That I’ll change?”
“It could happen. All I know is that it would have been easier for Izzy if they had married. She feels like she’s being kept at a distance, her life separated from his.”
“Maybe that’s how he’s coping.”
“But think how she feels. She feels as alone as he does. They need each other now. There would be some comfort in knowing that they were waiting for each other, that they were in this together.”
“That’s true. But imagine the thoughts running through his mind. Who knows how many more missions he will have to fly, what might happen to him.”
Charles got up and stood by the fire, took up the poker and moved the logs around.
Lillian watched him as he stood there with his hand on the mantel, gazing into the fire. “What is it, Charles?”
He waited a few moments before responding. “I wanted to tell you earlier. I re-enlisted. A few days ago,” he said, turning to her.
“Aren’t you too old?” asked Lillian, a jolt of fear shooting through her.
“I was an officer,” he said simply.
Lillian shifted her fear to anger that he hadn’t told her right away. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”
“No. I wanted to tell you, but…,” his words drifted away.
“But what?”
“I don’t know. I’m still getting used to the idea myself. I didn’t want to upset you, so soon after all the news. You’re not angry, are you?”
“That you signed up? Of course not. How could I be? I’m just – disappointed that things aren’t the way I thought they were. I thought we were more open with each other.”
He sat down next to her and took her hand. “Nothing has changed.”
But something had changed. He was excluding her in decisions that should be theirs, as a couple. First the wedding, now this. She realized that he still thought of them as two individuals, while she thought of them as a couple. He was drifting farther and farther away.
Chapter 7
*
On Saturday, Tommy and Gabriel gathered their things for the ballgame, and stopped by to pick up Mickey and Billy. Mickey was already outside waiting for them, along with most of the Redbirds.
Gabriel sought out Billy among the group of boys but didn’t see him. “Where’s Billy?” he asked Mickey. Tommy also looked around for him, and anxiously awaited Mickey’s response.
“He’s got a cold. Mom won’t let him go outside today,” said Mickey.
Tommy stifled a groan. When Billy was around, Gabriel stayed close by and helped with the ballgame, but when Gabriel was on his own, he tended to wander away. Now he would have the responsibility of keeping track of him. “Stay close this time, Gabriel. Don’t make me go searching for you, like last time.”
The boys crossed over to Central Park and found the Bulldogs already there, warming up. The larger fields were always in use, so the two teams had taken to playing in a grassy plot just inside the park, across from the lake.
Gabriel kept looking around, as if he was expecting someone. After the first inning, he ran up to Tommy. “I’m just going over to that gazebo to see if Tiny is there.”
“Tiny Tomorrow?” laughed Tommy. He mussed Gabriel’s hair. “You goofball.” The boys were hollering at Tommy to take his position. “Well, stay where I can see you.”
“Okay,” said Gabriel, and he ran off to the gazebo where he had met Tiny three weeks earlier.
Tiny and his older brother had moved to the neighborhood a few months ago. Gabriel had first spotted Tiny near the lake, a small figure picking up sticks and stuffing them into an old bag. Since he seemed to be on his own, Gabriel had wandered over and befriended him.
On first glance, from a distance, Gabriel had guessed Tiny to be a boy his own age, or maybe eight or nine. But the closer he got to Tiny, the older he seemed to become. He was a thin, waif-like boy dressed in a threadbare black jacket and a black cap, with the type of physique that suggested either wispy boyhood or aged frailty. He was an odd combination of youth and old age; enthusiasm and weariness took turns on his face, bouncing his age all over the place. Gabriel had decided that he was simply an in-between person. He had seen him several times since then, mostly in the park by the gazebo, and sometimes outside Mancetti’s store, or helping out the newspaper vendor.
Gabriel now ran over to the gazebo, and was delighted to see Tiny down by the lake. He was there with his old black bag slung over his shoulder, gathering twigs.
“Hi, Tiny!” Gabriel called out.
“Hiya, Gabriel.” Tiny spotted a small branch and bent to pick it up; he snapped it into pieces, and tossed them in the bag.
“Picking up sticks for your stove? Can I help?” Gabriel started to search for twigs. “I have a whole bag of sticks for you, Tiny. I got them up at my aunt’s. I told you all about it, but then I couldn’t find you.”
“Thanks, pal.” Tiny leaned against the gazebo and gazed out at the lake, suddenly looking very old. “I haven’t been out much this week. My brother is sick again.” He picked a leaf off a nearby bush and studied it briefly before dropping it to the ground. “He’s really sick this time.”
“Why don’t you call a doctor?” asked Gabriel.
Tiny snatched up a flat rock near his foot and picked a spot out on the lake. Then he leaned to his side, and threw the stone in a horizontal toss, trying to skip it across the water. It plunked into the water with barely a ripple. “I never could do that.” He searched for another rock and tried again, throwing with a little more force this time. The rock went straight down. He kicked at the leaves on his way back to the gazebo, and sat on the rough-hewn bench inside.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Gabriel, sitting next to Tiny.
“He has a weak chest. Especially when it gets cold. He was sick every single winter in the orphanage.” Tiny’s face shifted and became younger. “But the nuns took care of us there. They made sure we were warm, and did their best to keep us healthy and strong. Every winter we lined up at recess, and waited our turn for the honey. They dipped a big wooden spoon into a bucket of honey, and gave each one of us a spoonful. And we just prayed that we would be lucky enough to get a piece of the beeswax. Chew it all day long.” A few years left Tiny’s face as he remembered the chewy honeycomb.
“The nuns read to us, and sat with my brother when he was sick. Brought in a doctor when he was really sick. And cooked for us.” He leaned back on the bench and pulled his knees up, revealing bony white ankles. “Sister Mary Cecelia. Nobody could make chicken soup like her. Nobody.” He smacked his lips and swallowed, as if getting a taste right there.
“My mom makes good soup,” said Gabriel.
“And Sister Rosetta. The best biscuits you could ever imagine. I used to work in the bakery with her – that was before the laundry. And I can tell you, when those biscuits came fresh out of the oven…” Tiny sighed, smiling at the memory.
“Hey! Why don’t you go back there?” asked Gabriel. “Maybe they’ll get some soup for your brother.”
The youth left Tiny’s face and he became around fifty or so now. “Nah. We can’t. You have to leave after the eighth grade. When my brother left, I left with him.” He stood up and searched the ground outside of the gazebo. “You can’t stay there forever, Gabriel. They have to make room for the new kids. They even take babies.”
Tiny rubbed his shoe back and forth over something in the dirt, and bent to pick up a foiled gum wrapper. He inspected it, and tossed it in his bag. Then he gazed up at the sky between the bare branches while he calculated the time since leaving the orphanage. “That was – two years and four months ago.”
His eyes sharpened, catching a glimpse of something near the base of a bush growing alongside the gazebo. In one quick, agile movement he dropped, lay on his stomach, and reached underneath the gazebo. He pulled out an old, yellowed newspaper. He stood up and brushed himself off. “Good kindling,” he said, waving the newspaper, and added
it to his bag.
“How long did you live at the orphanage?”
“Not sure exactly. Brother says we arrived in short pants and left in long pants. We were fourteen and eleven when we left. Plenty old to find work. That’s the main thing. Between the two of us, we have all kinds of experience: laundry work, bakery work, running errands, sweeping floors, selling newspapers, hauling things. We even ran a popcorn stand last summer. We can always find work.” Tiny now became a grown man giving much needed advice to a youngster. “Don’t wait too long to get some experience, Gabriel. You never know what’s up ahead.”
“Okay,” said Gabriel, briefly wondering where he should start. He imagined himself tending a popcorn stand, scooping up some hot, fresh popcorn to eat whenever he got hungry. Or maybe he would enjoy bakery or laundry work. He was impressed with all the places Tiny the boy-man had worked. “What’d you do in the laundry?”
“Not much,” Tiny said, sitting down again. “Helped Sister Cunagunda fold towels, mostly. Match up socks. It was easy. I liked it down there. It was always warm. Kinda cozy. And always smelled like soap.”
He leaned back, remembering. “She was one of my favorites. She used to tell me stories about when she was a kid. She was an orphan, like us. Diphtheria got her whole family. ‘Don’t look back,’ she used to say. ‘That’ll just cause you to stumble.’” Tiny pointed his finger in front of him, to the future. “This is the direction we all move in, so we might as well look forward. Try to remember that, Gabriel.”
“Okay. I will.”
Tiny leaped up onto the gazebo bench and squinted into the shrubbery. His face brightened as he spotted some fallen branches inside the brambles. He jumped down and tapped Gabriel on the arm. “Jackpot!” He became ten years old now as he twisted his way in between the bushes.
Gabriel followed him and watched as Tiny began breaking the branches apart, using his foot to steady the thicker ones while he snapped them in two.
Tiny pulled over a large branch. “Man, oh man! This will last all week!” He tried to pull the branch apart at the fork, but it wouldn’t break.
Gabriel knelt down on the branch and dug his fingers around it, leaving the smaller limb sticking up. “Okay. Now, Tiny!”
Christmastime 1941 Page 8