Goodbye, Mr. Spalding
Page 9
“Finally, something worked!” I slow down to catch my breath.
“I can’t believe it! He didn’t even look up. He had no idea I was a girl!”
“You were great. You should dress like a boy more often.”
“Well, this getup sure is more comfortable than my dresses.” We both almost double over laughing.
“A whole dollar!” she exclaims, holding it up.
“What!” I grab it from her and examine it. “Wow, he must be really rich.”
“You should have seen the inside of his house. Plush velvet sofas, thick oriental rugs, a Tiffany lamp on the table. I wonder what the rest of the house looks like.”
“Maybe I should be a lawyer,” I say dreamily.
“First things first,” she says as she takes back the bill. “You can pay back the store with this, and we’ll still have forty-three cents change.”
“Jimmie Foxx is the only other person I ever saw tip one whole dollar,” I say.
“I’m going to be that rich one day,” Lola says. “And I’m going to tip kids a dollar, too.”
“I’ll be your business partner.”
“You better be!”
“So, you’re not mad at me anymore? From last night?”
“I can never stay mad at you, Jimmy! Just don’t be a dummy anymore. Hey, let’s go to Doc Hoffman’s for some hot cocoa.”
“Yeah?”
“Well I can’t give this money to Ma. She’ll wonder where it came from, and I can’t lie to her,” she says.
“Sounds like a good reason to me.”
We walk the few blocks to the diner and grab a booth, ordering two hot chocolates with extra whipped cream.
“Ten cents each,” Lola says and starts counting on her fingers. “So, that’s fifty-seven cents to pay back to the store, twenty cents for hot cocoa, and a five-cent tip.” She closes her eyes to concentrate. “We’ll have eighteen cents left over.”
“Not bad!”
“Let’s keep it in your army bag for a rainy day,” she says.
“Or maybe penny candy?”
Moments later, they arrive—two steaming mugs filled with rich, sweet chocolate, and mounds of white cream. Lola’s grin is so wide, and we both grab at the spoons in anticipation. I can hardly believe our luck.
“It worked, you know,” I say. “He’s going to miss the meeting and we have hot cocoa as a reward.”
“I don’t remember the last time I had something like this,” she says. I can barely see her eyes over the big mug and the whipped cream on her nose.
Silence falls between us as we drink. We both stare out the window at the activity. The window has become hazy around the edges as the warm diner meets the outdoor temperature. There is steam coming from the street vents. With the holiday, there are only a few cars on the road, a handful of ladies bundled in coats and hats, and a couple of kids lugging books from the library a few doors down. We hear a ding, and moments later the trolley comes along, dropping riders off and picking a few up.
Lola’s eyes start to droop at the mundane hustle and bustle, and she rests her head on the table.
“I didn’t really sleep at all last night,” she says.
“Me either.” Thirty minutes in a warm diner and any adrenaline we had is long gone.
“So, how do we know if Dilworth leaves?” she finally says, sitting up and rubbing her face.
“I’ll go back around ten o’clock to see if his car is gone.”
“Okay. Ring the Bingle and I’ll come along.” She pauses. “Want to go down to Reyburn Park? See if anyone heard about the Polinskis?”
I shrug my shoulders and stare out the window again. Lola decides to drop the subject and we sit quietly, finishing our hot chocolate.
We walk home in silence and part ways, both exhausted. My mind is once again jumbled and uneasy. I worry about the Polinskis, and whether Rule #22 will work, and how we can find out about the hearing today. But most of all, I worry about the wall. I picture it as I walk along the street, craning my head up to try and guess how tall it will be. Will it block out all the sun?
“Morning, son,” Pop says when I open the front door. I jump back, startled. He and Nina are standing in the living room as if they’ve been waiting.
“You scared me!”
“Sorry about that,” Pop forces a smile. “Where did you go off to so early today?”
“Just around,” I reply truthfully. “Where’s Ma?”
“Ma’s out working,” Pop says.
“What?”
“Yes, Ma’s down at the Sheridan’s store. They landed a Christmas order and needed an extra person to embroider. She’s got a knack for that sort of thing,” Pop says. “We really can use the money, Jimmy.” He wrings his hands together and I feel even more guilty. We had a whole dollar that I spent on hot cocoa and supplies that are now in the Polinskis’ hands. Not to mention the extra eighteen cents burning a hole in my army bag.
“Well, that’s good then. Besides, Ma’s never really gone to work except at the hardware store,” I say. That’s when I notice Nina’s eyes are puffy and red again.
“What’s wrong?” She doesn’t answer and blows her nose in Pop’s handkerchief.
“The job over at The Hop Inn fell through,” Pop says. He rubs her back, and she buries her head in his chest.
“If I don’t find a job soon, I’m going to have to drop out of school,” she blubbers.
“Now, now. I’m not going to let that happen,” he tries to reassure her.
“You said it yourself!” she wails.
“Let’s try our other plan first. If you work in the store every day after school, that will give me a chance to start back up my handyman work. You know that kept us afloat long before we opened.”
“I can help out after school, too,” I jump in.
“We are going to count on that.” Pop smiles and puts his arms around both of us.
“Or should I find a job? Maybe the pharmacist will give me some work. I can do more deliveries for him,” I offer.
“Maybe, son. Let’s take it one day at a time.”
“And they’ll pay me as batboy next year.”
“Good. For now, we all just need to stick together. Take these hiccups one at a time. We should have had a better Thanksgiving. You know, there really is a lot to be thankful for,” he says. “We have a roof over our heads. We have a healthy family. We have a lot more than others.”
“But will we still have all of this if I can’t find work?” Nina whispers. I suddenly feel ashamed for not seeing the pressure she’s been under. Pop puts his hands on both of her shoulders.
“One day at a time, okay?” he says. She nods her head in agreement, her lip still quivering. “I sure would like to bring some joy into this house right now,” he adds.
“Maybe we can have a nice meal tonight,” Nina says, dabbing her eyes one more time. Pop and I look at each other, not used to her soft tone.
“When will Ma be home?” I ask.
“Not until later. Sure would be nice to surprise her.” Pop stands up with a sudden burst of energy. “We have six hours before she’s home. That’s six hours to clean the house, wash the windows, change the sheets, do the laundry, and make supper.”
Nina and I stare at each other for a moment, both smirking. Pop’s sudden change in mood is jarring.
“Run down to the corner and pick up some noodles. We’re makin’ lasagna.” Nina glances over at me and I shrug my shoulders.
We burst into action like we are little kids again.
20
Ma used to pretend cleaning was a race, charging us with important tasks like sweeping the porch steps or hanging the laundry. The first one done will be smothered with kisses and hugs! she would say. That is, until the second one was done, who also was rewarded with Ma’s playful love.
I run to the basement for cleaning supplies, tripping on Ma’s bag of tulip bulbs and knocking over an ironing board along the way. Nina starts for upstairs.
“Your Ma’s at our shop? I’ll go down and see if they need my help,” she says.
“Okay,” I say and look back for Nina, who is not paying attention. I whisper: “On the way can you go see about Dilworth’s car? And can I give Nina the extra change from today for the lasagna?”
“Sure!” she says with a big smile.
I quietly slip Nina the eighteen cents, saving the final change to pay back the store for the gas can and hose.
“Hey, where did you find this?” she asks.
“Saved it from tips,” I say, hoping for no follow-up questions. That seems to satisfy her, and she pockets it.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Pop,” she yells before heading out the door. In no time, I finish the upstairs and start cleaning on the first level. Four hours to go.
“We couldn’t afford the good meat.” Nina hurries back in and unloads everything from the corner store onto the table. “But I was able to buy a few sausage links.”
“I’m surprised we had enough for even that!” Pop says, grabbing the canvas bag to see for himself. Nina and I give each other a knowing look. At least something good has come out of the Dilworth delivery this morning.
Pop takes the two feet of sausage, and he jokingly barks orders to Nina like a chef. He is surprising in the kitchen, moving quickly and generally knowing what to do and when to do it.
“Look at you!” Nina says.
“Your nana Millie taught me how to cook. Bet you didn’t know that with Ma being so good in the kitchen. I certainly can hold my own.”
Lola returns and waves for me to come out to the porch.
“Dilworth’s car is still in the same spot as it was this morning,” she whispers.
“Wow, this might work! Any word on the Polinskis?”
“No,” she replies. “I saw Ralph and Matty, but they didn’t mention anything.”
“Okay then.” I try not to show it bothers me. “Are you heading back to the store?”
“No. They have an assembly line going and I’ll be in the way at this point. Can I stay here and help?”
“Yes!” We both grin from ear to ear.
The distraction of the day is a welcome relief. Nina puts on the radio, and eventually I’m skipping around to Fats Waller and “Honeysuckle Rose,” broom in hand.
Nina and Pop are in the kitchen working on the lasagna. Whenever Nina tries to guide him—“use the brown potholders, that green potholder is too thin” or “take the sausage out of the casing first” or “try layering the noodles in the other direction”—he says something about having it covered and not to worry.
I notice that she is secretly changing the measurements and the order of his layers, putting in half the cheese or extra parsley.
While they are cooking, Lola and I are charged with cleaning the kitchen floor.
“I want to be able to eat off it,” Pop says, while tomato and sausage grease splatter with every movement. We each take a corner farthest from the chaos and carefully use a rag to rinse and wipe, rinse and wipe, rinse and wipe. I hum to the radio as I clean the floor.
“Today feels more like Thanksgiving,” I say to Lola, who nods her head.
Pop eventually pours an extra can of tomato gravy over the finished product, making the whole pan of noodles and cheese and meat swim in the sauce. Nina crinkles her nose, but I can’t wait for this meal. Ma’s tomato gravy is the best, and the hot summer provided us with some sweet juicy tomatoes. I’d eat it straight from the jar with a spoon, if Ma would let me.
Once they are completely done with the cooking, we are able to clean the floor around the stove. This is a harder job. Grease and dirt are coating the floor, and before I know it, my arms are sore and the muscles are throbbing.
“Maybe this will build some muscle so you can actually play baseball instead of just watching,” Lola jabs.
“Like this?” My rag hits her hard in the face, and we are soon splashing water and slipping over each other in a fit of laughter.
“That’s enough, you two,” Pop says. “Let’s finish up. She’ll be home soon.”
The next half hour is abuzz with the four of us rushing around the house. Nina quickly takes over.
“Jimmy, pick up leftover laundry and bring it to the basement. Lola, help me with these dirty pans. Pop …” Pop is at the radio. He starts to croon along with Cole Porter before Nina cuts him off.
“Pop! Help dry these dishes!”
He turns up the music and heads to the kitchen. We finish with moments to spare.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” Pop says. Lola rushes next door to wash, and we stomp upstairs. On the way up, I look at the kitchen floor. It sparkles like new.
“Here she comes!” Nina yells. I look out my bedroom window. Ma is at the end of the street bundled up, head down, and trying to avoid the wind. It’s fighting her as she makes her way. I ring the Bingle and hurry downstairs, just as Lola rushes back in the front door.
We are giddy as we line up to greet her, Nina and Pop on one side, me and Lola on the other. I’m excited. I’m happy that Lola is here to help. And I think I have the best pop in the world. Time spent with Pop is usually always at the store. This is special.
Ma walks in, and her eyes light up immediately.
“Oh my!” she says over and over. Pop sweeps her off her feet with a long kiss and hug, and Nina blushes as she replaces Ma’s shoes with slippers. I love it when Ma and Pop hug and kiss. They sit on the sofa, her feet resting on his legs.
“Well, this certainly is a nice surprise,” she says, looking at all of us.
“We weren’t quite satisfied with Thanksgiving,” Pop says. “Thought we’d have another go at it.”
“Really?” Her eyes begin to glisten. “How special.”
“And we cleaned the house!” I blurt out. Lola shoves my shoulder.
“Is that so? All four of you? I am one lucky lady.” She looks around quite satisfied. “Thank you.”
She leans on Pop’s shoulder. The smell of garlic and onions and sausage fills the air, and the music continues to play.
“I’m starving,” she finally says with a genuine smile. “What, pray tell, have you made for me?”
“What do you think?” he asks.
“Pop and I made lasagna,” Nina says before Ma even has a chance to answer. She proudly grins from ear to ear.
“Lasagna?” Ma bolts upright. “But how?”
“No worries,” Pop cuts her off and kisses her again.
Nina finishes setting the table, and Lola steadies me as I reach high in the cupboard for candles. It’s getting dark and that seems like the right thing to do. I find two candles—one short, stubby, and fat, and one long and slender.
Lola says goodbye and gives Ma a hug.
“Young lady, you aren’t going anywhere! You helped make this happen, dear.”
“Thank you, Ms. Frances. I’d love to stay,” Lola replies more formally than usual. Ma squeezes her.
“And besides, you are part of this family. There will always be a seat for you at our table. Nina, would you please set another place?”
Nina nudges me and smiles. I think she’s going to poke fun, but she just says that it’s time to sit.
Nina, Lola, and Ma are across from me at the table laughing, and Pop is taking the pan out of the oven when I see a fast movement out of the corner of my eye, followed by a loud thump. We all quickly turn to Pop.
I first see the green potholder in Pop’s right hand—the one that’s too thin—and the brown one in his left. From the potholders, I look down, toward the open oven. The pan must have been too hot, and Pop dropped it back onto the oven rack. I sigh with relief at what could have been a lasagna disaster.
“That sure was close,” Pop says to nobody in particular. He looks over at us and pre
tends to wipe his brow with the potholder. That’s when we hear the sound.
“The rack!” Nina cries, but it’s too late. That thump of the heavy lasagna pan proves too much for the oven rack. It tips slowly, just enough for the pan to drop onto the open oven door.
“Goodness!” Ma says, her hand coming to her chest as she breathes deeply. Pop grins nervously, and Lola and I start to laugh.
But the path of the lasagna isn’t over. Pop starts to reach down when—No! No! No!
He sees it before any of us.
The old oven door, not meant to hold a heavy-loaded pan, gives way and slants to the ground. The entire meal slides down and skids across the kitchen, stopping right in the center of the room. Pop lunges for it, but it all happens too fast.
The entire rectangle of noodles and cheese and sausage sloshes out of the pan and onto the floor.
We all stare at the scene. A sloppy block of red and brown and white on the floor, followed by a dirty pan, a slanted oven door, a tilted oven rack, and Pop, whose mouth hangs open. He stands there with the brown mitt on his right hand, and the green mitt on his left.
I wanted to laugh. Don’t laugh. I pinch myself and avoid looking into Lola’s eyes. What is she thinking? What is Pop thinking? Poor Pop. Poor Ma. Suddenly, I want to cry. Don’t cry.
Ma takes her eyes away from the incredible scene and calmly looks at me. “You say you scrubbed the floor today?”
“Yes, Ma. We both did.” I motion toward Lola. “Clean enough to eat off of,” I say without thinking and quickly wish I could shove the words right back in my mouth.
Ma smiles. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
We sit frozen and watch Ma gather the forks and napkins and seat herself on the floor. Nina grabs the candles and nudges me, and we all spring to life. Lola sits next to me, grinning from ear to ear. Pop whispers something to Ma, and they both giggle like school kids.
“Come on now, let’s say our words,” she says, taking my hand and Nina’s. I take Lola’s in mine, and she looks at me and gives me a squeeze.
Together, we sit on the floor in a circle around our dinner.
“Dear Lord,” Ma prays. “Thank you for my family, and thank you for this wonderful meal. It’s one of the best nights of my life.”