We passed Krum’s Candy, a big ice-cream parlor and candy store. All the kids from the neighborhood would go there for a two-cent plain. If you were there with your mother or father and they bought ice cream, they’d give you the two-cent plain for nothing. That was a good deal. We passed Lutz’s shoe-repair shop at the corner. We crossed Valentine Avenue to my block.
The street was unusually quiet. The street was normally filled with lots of people, lots of kids. Maybe it was the cold weather?
Mom pushed open the heavy black iron door with the glass panel. The hallway of number 267 smelled like pine soap. Mr. Zabo, the super, mopped the hallways every day with pine soap. It smelled good. We climbed the three flights of stairs to apartment thirty-two. I was home.
“Larry!” Mom shouted.
She was angry. The front hall was filled with towels and toilet paper and everything that was supposed to be in the bathroom. Gene was sitting in the middle of it, smiling. Gene was a scrawny little kid who hardly ever talked. His hair was blondish and looked a lot like shredded wheat. He was four years old and slept almost all the time.
“Larry!” Mom shouted again. “Where are you?”
“I’m coming,” he shouted back. He came running into the hall and slipped on a misplaced bar of soap. He crashed to the floor and bumped his head. His glasses flew off his face. Gene started to laugh, but Larry started to cry.
“It serves you right,” Mom said. “God punished you for not taking better care of your brother.”
He got to his feet, rubbing his head. He picked up his glasses and put them on. Larry was very much like me, except he was older, eleven, taller and stronger. He had as many freckles as I did, and his hair was as red as mine. I think without his glasses we looked pretty much like twins.
“Jennings!” he shouted as he got his first good look at me. Larry couldn’t see anything without his glasses on.
“Hi. How’ve you been?” I asked.
We clasped hands. He sniffled back his tears and rubbed his head again.
“Hey! I got something to show you,” he said.
“Not until you clean up this mess,” Mom said.
“Oh, Ma! Do I have to?”
“Yes!”
“Come on, I’ll help you,” I said.
Larry and I cleaned up the mess while Mom took Gene into her bedroom for a nap.
“So where were you?” I asked.
“I first stayed at a home. Ugh! It was awful. Scary.” He made a face. “Then I stayed with Mrs. Keys. She gave me a present. She was nice.”
“What did you get?”
“I can’t tell you. That’s what I got to show you.”
We got the last of the bathroom things back into the bathroom. We crossed through the living room into the back bedroom. All the rooms in our apartment, except the back bedroom, were off the front hall—the kitchen, living room, bathroom, and Mom’s bedroom.
“Whatcha got?” I asked.
“A bugle.” He held it up.
It was all tarnished and dented. He tried to blow a few notes, but all he got were fat cheeks and some squeaks.
“I gotta practice,” he said.
I showed him Doggie and told him about the Home of the Angels. I told him about the Carpenters and about Mark.
“You mean he ain’t never going to leave the home? Never, ever?”
I shook my head no.
“Wow! That’s awful.”
Larry told me about his stay with Mrs. Keys. He told me he could eat anything he wanted, anytime he wanted.
“And milk, too,” he added. “As much as I wanted.” He slipped into thinking about something, probably food. “I kinda would have liked to stay there,” he said.
“And not come back?”
“Yeah. I kinda would have liked that.”
“But wouldn’t you miss not being here anymore?”
“No. I don’t like George or Walter, and they don’t like me. They’re always pushing me around and calling me names. And Mom don’t like me, either.”
“She does so.”
“Says you.”
He lay across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He sounded very unhappy. I looked over toward the window. I could see across the alleyway to another building. Some of the lights were lit. I thought about the barred windows at the Home of the Angels. I thought about Mark and about Larry. Both of them were unhappy and both of them were wishing they were someplace else.
I awoke to shouts coming from the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Larry asked. He squinted his eyes and felt around the floor for his glasses.
“I think George and Walter are home.”
“Oh, darn.” He moaned.
George and Walter were fighting with Mom. They were angry about living someplace else while Mom was resting.
George and Walter looked very much alike. Both of them were tall and both of them had black hair. George had a lot of pimples on his face, and he was skinnier. Walter had dark-rimmed glasses and smooth skin.
“How could I leave you home by yourselves?” Mom asked them.
“Easy! Just do it. Leave us here, that’s all,” Walter snarled.
“And what would you eat? How would you take care of yourselves?”
“We don’t eat all that much now to worry about it,” George said.
“And I take care of myself anyway,” Walter added.
“You? Take care of yourself?” George laughed at Walter. “You couldn’t take care of garbage without Mom around to help you.”
“I could so,” Walter growled back. “I do more around here than you do.”
“Says you.”
“Now, stop it!” Mom yelled. “I don’t understand you kids. I try to do the best I can. I put you where you can continue with your school…this is what I get for it.”
“Well, your best isn’t all that good,” Walter said.
“Look who’s talking. You sure get everything you want,” George said. He got to his feet. “I’m going out.”
“Yeah, run out! You always do!” Walter yelled at George as he left the kitchen.
George pushed past me. “Hi,” he mumbled.
“Hi.”
The door slammed. Mom started to cry.
“Now look what you did!” I snapped at Walter. “You made Mom cry.”
“I didn’t do anything. George did. For Christ’s sake, you can’t say anything around here without…” He broke off and stormed out of the kitchen.
“Don’t cry, Mom,” I said.
“I’m not crying.” She wiped her tears on a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. “I’m not crying.” She got up and lit the stove under the coffeepot. “I have to go to St. Vincent’s this morning,” she sighed. “I have to see if we can get a food basket for Christmas.”
“Can I go?” Larry asked as he came into the kitchen.
“No. I want you to stay here and mind Gene. I’ll take Jennings with me. He’ll help me carry whatever we get.”
“Oh, darn! Why do I always have to mind Gene? Why can’t Walter or George do it?”
“Walter has to study and George’s not here.”
“Oh, darn!” He pouted. He stomped out of the kitchen.
“Lift your feet!” she called after the clomping sound going down the hallway.
Mom and I returned from St. Vincent’s about one in the afternoon. We got a turkey and a basket of vegetables, but no toys. We came into the apartment. Larry was standing in the living room with his arms outstretched. He was crying. As soon as Larry spotted Mom, he ran to her.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Walter said. “He wouldn’t clean the kitchen, so I punished him.”
“I’ll do the punishing around here,” she said. “Not you!”
“I was only trying to teach the dumb ox how to do what he’s told. That’s all.”
“Well, I’ll teach him anything he needs to know. And stop calling him a dumb ox!”
She gave Larry a hug. “Now
, go and clean up the kitchen,” she said.
“Do I have to?” he whined.
“Yes. Don’t you want to help your mother?”
“Oh, darn! Why do I always have to do everything around here?” He stomped off into the kitchen.
I followed him with the basket of vegetables. “I’ll help you,” I said.
“Did we get any toys?”
“No. They didn’t have any left.”
“Oh, darn. We never get any toys. I wish I was…” He broke off.
“Where’s George?” Mom asked as she came into the kitchen with the turkey.
“Where do you think?” Walter answered sarcastically.
“He’s out,” Larry said. “Him and Walter were fighting again.”
“About what?”
“Nothing! They always fight about nothing.”
Mom took Gene into her bedroom for a nap. Larry went into the back bedroom to read a comic book. I went into the living room to where Walter was studying.
“Walter?” I whispered. I knew better than to talk loud when he was studying.
“What?”
“Uh…do you think Mom would let me sing at midnight Mass?”
“Why not?”
I was surprised at his answer. I thought for sure he would yell at me for bothering him. “Uh…that’s great,” I said.
“But it’s not up to her. It’s up to Sister Liviticus.”
“Oh. Do you think Sister Liviticus will let me?”
“If you wait about half an hour, I’ll go to the convent with you and we’ll find out,” he said. “I want to sing too.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll wait downstairs for you.” I left.
Walter and I were the only two of the family in the choir. George used to be, but now that he’s in high school he doesn’t have time. Larry never liked the choir. He was an altar boy once, but they fired him. He was carrying everything for the altar one day when he tripped. And Gene of course is too little.
“So, how you been?” George interrupted my thoughts. He sat down beside me on the front step. He lit a cigarette.
George smoked Luckies. Even though he was only fifteen, Mom said he was the man of the house and could smoke if he wanted to.
“Mom is looking for you,” I told him.
“Mom’s always looking for me. Whatcha doing here? It’s cold out.”
“I’m waiting for Walter.”
“Okay. I’ll see you.” He got up.
“No. Don’t go,” I said. “He won’t be here for a while.”
He sat back down. “Were you with a family or in a home?” he asked.
“In a home.”
“How was it?”
“It was okay. Once you learn the rules, it ain’t so bad.”
“What rules?”
“Oh, like don’t talk to nobody after the clicker sounds, and remember your number. Things like that.”
“That’s tough, kid.”
“Hey, George! How come you and Walter fight all the time?”
“He’s a mama’s boy and I don’t like it. She backs him up all the time. Right or wrong, she backs him up. It ain’t fair.”
“Isn’t it because he’s smart?”
“Smart ain’t got nothing to do with it. I’m just as smart as him, and so are you. But we don’t get the books and stuff he gets. Whatever he needs for school, he gets!” He got to his feet. “He’ll get a book before you eat, kid!” He walked off.
I watched him walk down 188th Street and turn onto Tiebout Avenue. He sounded as unhappy as Larry did.
Walter came out of the building and we walked up the street together.
“I just saw George,” I said.
“So?”
“How come you and him don’t get along?”
“He’s a bum, like the old man.”
“What old man?”
“Never mind. Just take my word for it, he’s a bum.”
“But…I like him…sometimes.”
“Well, I don’t! All the time!”
We stopped talking. He looked like he was gonna get mad, so I let it go. I had to skip along to keep up with him. He was so much taller, I had to take a whole lot of steps to just one of his.
Sister Liviticus gave us permission to sing. She told us to be at practice in the morning. I was excited. I loved singing in the choir, especially at midnight Mass.
On Christmas Eve, George and Larry went out to try to find us a Christmas tree. We got our tree after the Christmas-tree man was sure he wasn’t going to sell any more. Then he would throw them away. If you caught the one he threw, it was yours. Mom always sent George or Larry for the tree because they were the strongest. Whenever they went together, we would get a really good one.
Sister Liviticus wanted everyone at church early to go through the moves once more, before Mass. After the practice, we all waited for Mass to begin. I saw Mom near the front. She waved to me and I waved back. The altar was beautiful. All the candles were lit and there were lots of red flowers with red bows on them. There was a Nativity set up on one side of the altar, but the manger was empty. They didn’t bring the baby Jesus to his manger until midnight.
Finally the Mass started. We filed out in our black-and-white outfits with stiff collars. We all wore giant red bows and carried lighted candles. It looked beautiful. As I marched in the procession, I thought about Mark. I wished he could be here. Sister Justine, the principal, brought up the baby Jesus and laid him in the manger. The choir sang like angels, and chills ran all over me.
When we got up to the choir loft, I looked down to the manger and the baby Jesus, and I whispered, “Merry Christmas, Mark.”
Snow started falling as we walked up the long hill toward home. We walked with a crowd of our neighbors. Everyone was excited about the snow and about how beautiful the Mass was.
We got home to find George and Larry had gotten us a really big tree. It almost looked like one you might buy if you had the money. We decorated the tree together. Mom and Gene did the bottom part. Larry and I did the middle. George and Walter did the top. They argued about who was going to put the star on top, and of course, Walter won.
Mom didn’t have very much money for presents, so she bought Gene a string of four ducks, and a Monopoly game for the rest of us. Nobody but Gene liked the ducks. All we heard, until he broke them, was quack, quack, quack. It nearly drove everyone crazy.
Christmas gave way to New Year’s and to school. I was anxious to get back to see my friends. Most of all, I wanted to see Sister Ann Charles, my teacher.
Our second-grade classroom was in total disorder. Spitballs and airplanes were flying everywhere. Many of the kids were showing off some of the things they had gotten for Christmas. It was good to be back.
Sister Ann Charles came into the room and went straight to her desk. A warm feeling came over me at the sight of her. The last of the paper planes landed and the kids took their seats.
Sister Ann Charles was tall and thin. Her face was smooth and soft. She had dark eyebrows that bent over the top of her wide eyes, making them seem larger than they actually were. She had dimples like Sister Clair’s. She looked a little like her.
We said our morning prayers and the Pledge of Allegiance. We no sooner ended when Sister Ann Charles called my name.
“Jennings.”
A cold chill froze me. The sound of the clicker ran through my mind and I couldn’t move.
“Jennings? What’s the matter?”
I couldn’t speak. The calling of my name brought back all the memories of the home in one great wave. She got to her feet quickly and came over to me. She saw both the fear in my face and the tears in my eyes. She hugged me. I pressed my face into her and cried.
“Shhh,” she whispered. “Don’t be frightened.”
I cried hard as she held me. Nobody in the room laughed. They sat silently in their seats. Perhaps I frightened them.
“You’re not in an institution anymore,” she said. “You’re home now, with
your friends. We care about you.”
“I’m sorry, Sister.”
“Don’t be sorry. We understand.” She gave me her handkerchief.
I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I handed it back to her.
“No, you keep that,” she said.
She went back to her desk and picked up an envelope. She brought it to me. “Give this to your mother for me, will you?”
“Yes, Sister.”
“Are you all right now?” she asked.
“Yes, Sister.”
I tucked the envelope into my pocket. As the day moved on, I realized I had missed a lot of school, and they had learned bunches of new things. There wasn’t anything I understood. Before the home, I just went to school and it was fun. I got one hundred on almost every test I took, and I didn’t think anything about it. Now it was different. I listened to the questions that were asked and didn’t know any of the answers. I was lost.
That evening I found out what the note said. I had missed too much of the school year and would be left back. Larry got the same kind of note from his teacher.
“Now everyone’s gonna call me a dumb ox,” he cried.
“No, they won’t,” Mom said.
I was a little afraid of the same thing, but I didn’t say it. I was sorry I wouldn’t be going into the third grade with all my friends, but I wasn’t sorry I would be staying with Sister Ann Charles. I’d see my friends after school and at lunchtime.
For the rest of the term I was made a monitor. I didn’t take part in any of the exams or other schoolwork. I erased the blackboards and slapped the erasers. I handed out books and helped Sister. It was fun being her helper, even though some of the kids were calling me teacher’s pet.
Winter turned into spring, and with it April, and my ninth birthday. Mom bought me a coloring book and a box of forty-eight crayons. I loved coloring, and so did Larry. I shared my coloring book with him.
On the last day of class we said good-bye to some of the kids who would be going away for summer vacations with their families. Sister Ann Charles spoke to us.
“Children, as most of you might already know from your parents, or from the radio, there is a war going on in Korea. War is a very bad thing. People get hurt and die. Innocent civilians as well as soldiers. We have to pray for all of them.”
“Yes, Sister,” we said in unison.
They Cage the Animals at Night Page 7