Whistling In the Dark

by Lesley Kagen

  “Okay, we’re gonna meet Dr. Sullivan upstairs,” Nell called over to us from the information desk.

  We got in the elevator and Nell pressed the number three button. She looked so grown-up in her A-line dress and made-up face. Eddie had gotten fancy for the funeral, too. He had on a checkered sports coat that was way too big for him and a tie with a Chevy car on it, but he didn’t stink of gas like he usually did. Instead he stunk of English Leather. And then the elevator doors slid open, and for a second I was afraid to get out. This was the floor that Daddy and Troo had been on after the crash. I remembered the picture of Jesus and his bleeding heart that was hanging on the wall outside the elevator. Troo did too, because she picked up my hand and squeezed it hard.

  There was the tock tock tock of Nell’s squash heels going down the hall, and that medicine smell, and the floor so shiny, and the sound of those nurses’ thick white shoes. We turned into a room called a solarium that had magazines on tables and pictures of flowers on the walls. Sitting over by the big window was Mother in a wheelchair. I knew it was Mother because of her hair, but that’s the only way I would’ve been able to tell because she looked skinnier than Mary Lane, which I woulda thought was humanly impossible. Not tan or strong at all. And something else seemed really different about her, not just the way she looked because she’d been sick.

  “O’Malley sisters,” Mother said real softly. She had on a pink robe that I’d never seen before and slippers with little pink pom-poms on them and her hair was tied back with a shiny pink ribbon. Dr. Sullivan was standing next to her, like he was protecting a newborn chicken.

  Troo said, “Hi, Mother,” but you could tell she was fantastically nervous by how hard she was licking her lips. “Nell did not take good care of me and Sally. I got a list I wanna show you.”

  Mother held her arms out to us and I didn’t want to go into them because she looked so bony, but then I did and so did Troo. I couldn’t even talk, tell her how glad I was that she hadn’t died, that was how hard I was crying. Of course, Troo didn’t cry. Not one teardrop.

  “Doesn’t she look in the pink?” Dr. Sullivan laughed at his joke and I thought it was a pretty good one considering how Mother was decked out. “Just terrific!”

  Dr. Sullivan needed new peepers because Mother definitely looked a long way off from terrific, but I was just so glad to have her back that I hugged the doctor around his fat stomach, which was a lot harder than it looked.

  “Why, thank you, Sally,” the doctor said. (I’m sorry to have to say this, but his breath had not improved.) “How is that imagination of yours coming along?”

  “Fine, Dr. Sullivan. Just fine.” I really wished he had not brought that up in front of Mother. I was sort of mad now that I’d given him that hug.

  He looked down at his watch that he kept hidden in his pocket on a chain and then out the solarium windows. Clouds that looked like fists had started to roll in. “It’s going to rain again,” he said. “Can’t remember a summer we’ve had so much rain.” Then he clapped his hands. “Well, I think that’s quite enough excitement for one day. Let’s get Helen back to bed. That was a close call, a very close call, girls. When your mother comes home, you’re going to have to take very good care of her. Doctor’s orders.” And then he disappeared out the solarium door doing that penguin walk.

  Nell put her hands on the back of the wheelchair and began to push, but Mother held up her hand to stop and said in a weak voice, “Nell, take Troo downstairs. I need to talk to Sally in private for a minute.”

  “Okay, but not too long,” Nell scolded. “You heard what the doctor said.” She kissed Mother on the head and said in a cute little voice, “I’m almost a hairdresser. When you come home I can wash and set your hair for you.”

  “That would be nice.” Mother patted at her hair because she was sorta proud about it and had to know that it looked a little ratty. “Go on now, Nell.”

  “But what about my list?” Troo whined.

  Mother said, “Give it to me, Troo. I’ll look at it later.” Troo handed her the tattle list, which was pretty ripped and dirty from all the use it was getting, then she gave me a jealousy look and shook Mother’s hand good-bye, which was kinda funny.

  Eddie stood up from the checkered couch that looked so much like his jacket that I forgot for a second he was even there. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Gustafson.” That was Hall’s last name. Maybe Mother could change it back again to O’Malley now that Hall was going to the slammer.

  “It’s all right if you call me Mother.” Helen put her hand on Nell’s tummy. “After all, we’re going to be family soon, Eddie.” Nell’s smile put sun back into the solarium. Eddie just shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the shiny floor and grinned.

  “Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Nell said, trying to pick up Troo’s hand. Troo yanked it out, gave me one more jealousy look and then turned on her heel in a huff. Troo really couldn’t stand coming in second place. A minute later Nell was yelling, “Troo O’Malley, you get your heinie back here,” from down the hall, and I’d just bet Troo was givin’ her the finger. Another new thing she learned from Fast Susie.

  Mother and me were alone and I heard some thunder. “Sally, come closer.” I had been standing a little ways away from her so I could pay attention to the details, like you do when you want to get a really good look at something. I sat down in a brown chair that had a plastic cover over it, right across from Mother.

  “I have something to tell you,” she said. Her eyes were sorta dashing around like the minnows in the cold lake near dead Gramma’s house. That was a detail I would never miss because I had never seen Mother nervous before. It was probably because she was in the hospital, which could make anybody jittery. My own stomach felt like I had swallowed a handful of those Mexican jumping beans they just got in up at Kenfield’s Five and Dime. I grabbed on to the arms of the chair and got prepared for Mother to give me a good talking-to about my imagination. Somebody musta told her that I was having a hard time with it. I was in for it now.

  “I should’ve told you this a long time ago.” Mother sighed one of those big sighs she always did. “And I’m still not sure the timing is right.”

  It was not like Mother to be not sure. She was always sure in a mad kind of way.

  She gave me that sad-eyed look that she gave me when she thought I wasn’t looking and then said, “Sometimes women get lonely when their husbands are away.”

  Mother looked so breakable, it made me feel protective of her like I did with Troo. I needed to make her feel stronger right away, so I announced nice and loud, “Daddy told me to tell you that he forgives you.”

  She turned her head my way. “What did you just say?”

  “Right before Daddy died he told me to tell you that he forgives you and I’m sorry I haven’t told you before this, but like you always say, timing is everything and I just couldn’t find the time.” I hunched up in my shoulders and sunk down farther into the brown chair, getting ready for her to yell at me. I figured out too late that was a bad idea, telling her Daddy forgave her, because she was not smiling or acting at all like this was good news. In fact, Mother did the most amazing thing. I had heard it at night, but I had never seen it. She started to cry. And it wasn’t just a little sobbing . . . it was a great big gully washer. Right into her hands. The wedding ring that Hall had given her was gone, but there was a little green mark on her finger where it used to be.

  I placed my hands on her knees, which felt like two tennis balls, and just said, “Shhh . . . shhh . . . shhh.”

  Mother cried for a long, long time, her tears sliding down all over her face. But finally, she sort of sputtered out,

  “Thank you for telling me. That makes all the difference in the world.” I was so relieved she wasn’t gonna start hollering at me that I dug around in my pocket and found one of Troo’s Kleenex carnation flowers and gave it to her.

  “I’ve got a secret, too. This might be a big shock to
you, Sal. A big shock. So be prepared.” The clouds had let loose and the rain was attacking the windows and dying in squig gly lines. “I’m going to tell you why Officer Rasmussen has a picture of you in his wallet.”

  Oh no! Now I was going to have to tell her my suspicions about Rasmussen and she had already made these plans that we would go live with him and it was going to ruin everything when I told her I still thought, not as much as before, but it was still a very good possibility, that Rasmussen, her high school friend, had turned into a murderer and a molester.

  She grabbed for my hands like I was an edge of a cliff she was falling off and said, “Dave Rasmussen is your father.”

  I waited for her to say something else, but she was just looking at me with her blue crater eyes and white, white face. “Oh, Mother, that’s silly.” I laughed even though I didn’t think it was a very funny joke.

  She opened her eyes wider and gave me the look where her mouth goes into a straight line. Her deadly serious look.

  “Mother?” I got really afraid then and slid off that plastic-covered chair.

  “Sally Elizabeth . . .”

  Oh my Sky King. I need you!

  Mother said real fast now, her words chasing each other out of her mouth, “I’m so sorry. I should have told you a long time ago . . . but for the longest time I wasn’t even sure myself. It wasn’t until you got a little older and . . . started to look so much like Dave . . . you have green eyes . . . but so did your aunt Faye . . . but then your blonde hair and dimples and . . . your daddy suspected . . . he didn’t know for sure but . . .” She took my hands and pulled me back down into the chair and said in a whisper like it hurt her so bad to talk, “Paulie must’ve told Donny on the way home from the baseball game, the day of the crash . . . he must’ve . . .”

  I was not Daddy’s gal Sal. I was Rasmussen’s gal Sal. “That doesn’t change how much Daddy loved you.” Mother dabbed at her eyes with Troo’s carnation.

  Rasmussen’s gal Sal. With green eyes. Which were rare, Mother had always told me. Rasmussen had green eyes? Like mine?

  “When Daddy was in the air force, Officer Rasmussen and I . . . well . . .” Mother gave me a sorry smile. “We just fell in love again. Do you know what that means?”

  I stared at the window, at the rain starting and stopping and changing direction. Yes, I knew what it meant. Mother and Rasmussen sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage . . . then comes Sally in a baby carriage. I wanted to run down the hallway into the elevator and out of the hospital and onto the street and throw myself in front of that number 23 bus.

  Sky King was not my real daddy.

  “But . . . ,” I tried to say. Mother had to be wrong about this. The staph infection must’ve gotten into her brain and hardened her arteries.

  “No buts about this, Sally. That’s what your daddy meant when he told you that he forgave me.” She looked right into my rare green eyes. “He forgave me for falling back in love with Dave and having you.”

  I started to cry and Mother pulled me into her lap. I lay my head on her chest.

  “I know this is hard for you and you’ll need some time to think about it, Baby.” She hadn’t called me Baby since Daddy died and that was nice to hear, like coming home after a long day and seeing her in the kitchen leaning over a pot stirring chicken noodle soup with those extra-fat noodles and fresh carrots. “We’ll talk about this some more when I get a little stronger, but I wanted you to know. It’s important that you know.” Her heart was beating so hard that I wanted to reach in and pet it. “And I’m glad that I didn’t die or you would never have known because Dave . . . I mean, Officer Rasmussen, he would never have told you because he is a gentleman in the truest sense of that word.” She said this so sweetly, with so much kindness. That was the detail that had changed. Mother was happy now. Even after almost dying, she was smiling like that picture that I had of her down in the hidey-hole. “Now, I don’t want you to start up with your worrying,” she said. “Everything is going to be okay now.” She rested her head on the top of mine. “I’m so very tired, Sal. Please take me back to my room.”

  I wheeled her down the hall and handed her off to the old nurse, the same one who took care of Daddy. She looked at me like she didn’t remember me when she helped Mother back into bed.

  I was afraid to go near Helen, so I stood in the dark corner of the room. Maybe she wasn’t my real mother either. Maybe Troo wasn’t my sister or even Nell.

  She called over to me in a weak voice, “Come closer.” She sounded so desperate, I couldn’t resist. “Forgive me,” she whispered and then fell right asleep.

  I sat down next to her while the rain streamed down her window, the white sheets gliding up and down with her slow breathing. Now I knew what that sad look was that she’d always been giving me. Mother loved Officer Rasmussen and I was part of that love. Forgive her? Not in a million years.

  But then I remembered Daddy and how I’d sat in a room just like this one after his crash. And how he sounded when he told me he forgave Mother. It was with true love in his heart. So I sat there for a while and thought about it all. And then I surprised myself, and did the most charitable thing I had ever done while I watched Mother sleeping, maybe dreaming. I decided to forgive her for gettin’ some from Officer Rasmussen. Forgive her like my Sky King had. After all, I knew what it meant to be lonely for someone you loved. I’d been so lonely for Daddy and in some funny way I had always been lonely for Mother. She might not look at me anymore with those sad eyes if I just forgave her. Let bygones be bygones because everybody knew that forgiveness was divine. So I leaned down and placed my cheek on hers and breathed in her breath. And when I whispered, “I forgive you,” I smelled her Evening in Paris and finally understood why Troo wanted to run away to France.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  On the ride home from the hospital the windshield wipers were going back and forth and back and forth like that metronome Mother kept on top of the piano to help you keep time when you couldn’t keep it yourself. When we pulled up in front of our house, Nell said, “Sally . . . we’re here.” She did not say, “Sally . . . we’re home.”

  Mrs. Goldman was in her front window like she was keeping an eye out for somebody. I looked over at Troo, who was looking back at me like she had something on her mind. Whatever it was, I knew she would wait until we were alone, when it was just the O’Malley sisters, because Troo still thought Nell was a drip even if she was getting married and we got to be flower girls.

  “I’m gonna head over to Kroger and get some boxes,” Eddie said.

  Nell yelled to us, “Run between the raindrops, O’Malley sisters,” as we dashed for the porch. That was what Mother always said on days like this. Nell was becoming more like Mother by the minute. Like an ugly old caterpillar with horrible-looking hair, Nell was turning into a butterfly that could be on the Breck shampoo bottle.

  When Nell took her key out to unlock the front door, because everybody had been told to lock their doors now because of the dead girls, Mrs. Goldman said through her screen door, “Liebchin, may I speak to you, please?” I thought I saw sad beams coming out of her like the Baby Jesus on his holy cards. In her German accent she said, “I am so sorry, I am so sorry. We have to rent to somebody who can pay. Do you understand this?”

  Nell and Troo were stomping up the steps to get their things together because neither one of them liked Mrs. Goldman as much as I did. Besides the Butchy problem, they thought our landlady was a very wet blanket because she was always telling us to be quiet. But what they didn’t know was that Mrs. Goldman’s ears got very sensitive in the concentration camp and any sort of loud noises would make her have a headache that wouldn’t go away for days.

  “Yes, I understand,” I said, walking toward her. “Please don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  She opened the door a little and handed me a plate of those chewy brown sugar cookies and a white paper bag. “Inside is a book for you.
I know how you like to do the reading.”

  I turned to leave but then remembered my manners. “Thank you. And if Mr. Goldman wants me to come back and help him pick caterpillars off those tomato plants, I can do that.” I looked into her brown eyes that had seen so many bad things. “Do you think that Dottie Kenfield is a ghost?” Mrs. Goldman was the only person, besides Troo, who’d heard the sounds coming from Dottie’s window. I had to know that before we left. If it was Dottie’s ghost crying, I didn’t think I could move and leave her all alone.

  “Nein, that is no ghost. Sometimes it is better to think about things in your imagination to get away from what is really happening, no?” I knew she was thinking of the concentration camp then because she always squinted her eyes and the lines around her mouth got as deep as a garden furrow. “Do you understand this? That sometimes real life it is too frightening for people so we leave it for a while and think about other things?”

  “I think I understand.” She musta had to think about a lot of other stuff when she was in that concentration camp. Like her favorite things. Chocolate ice cream and cold red apples and this meat she got from Opperman’s Butcher Shop called schnitzel. “So who is that crying in Dottie’s room if it isn’t a ghost?”