“But…”
“But, nothing. You get to like someone, and puff! They’re gone. It ain’t no good liking anybody.”
He went back to reading his comic. I lay with my face pressed against Doggie. He’s right, I thought. It ain’t no good liking anybody. Sal’s gone, Midnight’s gone, Jerome’s gone, Stevie’s gone, and Mark’s gone.
“Please don’t ever leave me, Doggie,” I whispered.
“What did you say?” Larry asked.
“Nothing,” I mumbled. I closed my eyes to sleep.
My birthday came and went without notice. I didn’t mention it, and nobody remembered.
One Friday afternoon I came in from school and found Larry putting all of his things in a shopping bag.
“Is Mom sick?”
“No,” he said.
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Leaving where?”
“I’m leaving here. I’ve had it. I ain’t gonna take this shit no more. I’m tired of being a slave.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing more than happens every day.” He flipped a piece of paper at me.
It was a note from Mom. She wanted Larry to clean the bathroom and kitchen before he went out.
“Don’t go, Larry,” I said. “I’ll help you clean the kitchen.”
“It ain’t the kitchen, it’s everything. Since we left the Bronx, everything is different. I’m going.”
“But, Larry, you’re my only friend. Don’t go,” I begged. “Please don’t go.”
“I told you,” he said, “it ain’t no good liking people.” He leapt onto the windowsill. Just that quick, he was gone.
“Oh, my God!” I cried. I fell onto the bed. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I pulled Doggie up from the side of my bed. “Doggie,” I cried. “I can’t take no more of this. What are we going to do?”
Mom wasn’t home two minutes when she called Larry. I stayed in bed under the covers. She called again. After a long silence she pushed open the door.
“Where’s Larry,” she snapped. “He didn’t do any of the things I asked.”
“He ran away,” I mumbled into my pillow.
“What? I can’t understand you.”
“He ran away!” I shouted as I brought my face away from the pillow.
“What! Oh, my God!” She left the room crying.
I pushed my head back under the pillow.
“Where the hell is Larry?” George barked at me from the doorway.
“I don’t know,” I said from under the pillow.
Suddenly a sharp blow to my back stiffened me.
“Ow!” I yelled. “What did you hit me for?”
“I asked a question. Where’s Larry?”
“I answered you,” I screamed. “I don’t know!”
Everyone blamed me for Larry’s running away. They said I should have stopped him. I never heard such carrying on. I’d been sure nobody was even going to notice he was gone, but I was wrong. I stayed in bed and kept my head under the covers.
I had no idea what time it was, but it was late. Gene was sleeping and there were no sounds coming from the other side of my bedroom door. I slipped Doggie into a bag Larry had left and I climbed onto the windowsill. I dropped the bag to the ground, swung my legs over the sill, and climbed down. I had to hang-drop the last few feet, but I was down. I was out. I had taken the first step toward running away. Now what? I didn’t know. I didn’t have any money. I had to think. I know, I’ll go to the Bronx and find Sal. I walked to the corner to wait for the bus.
“Excuse me, sir. Do you know Sal?” I asked the driver as he opened the door.
“Sal who?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Just Sal.”
“Is he a driver?”
“Yes. He used to drive this bus, but now he’s in the Bronx. Do you know who I mean?”
“I think so. Is he a short guy, stocky build?” he asked.
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“What about him?”
“Could you tell me where he’s working?”
He took a piece of paper from his pocket, and wrote down Sal’s route and how to get there.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“I suppose you’re not taking this bus now. Right?”
“Right.” I smiled.
He closed the door and drove off.
By late afternoon I was on my way to the Bronx and Sal. I wonder if he’ll let me live with him. If he doesn’t, I’ll just have to wander around till I get older. Then I’ll get a job….
The bus let me off at Tremont and Castle Hill Avenues at about five o’clock. Following the directions, I waited for the bus Sal should be driving. I waited, but no Sal.
“Sir?” I spoke to one of the drivers. “Could you tell me where Sal is?”
“Sal? Sal who?”
“Uh…just Sal. He’s short and sort of heavy. He used to drive the Q44 along Main street in Queens, but now—”
“Oh, Sal. I know Sal. He’s gone, he don’t work again till Monday.”
“Monday? What time?”
“Let me see.” He looked at a piece of paper he took from his pocket. “Five a.m., sonny.”
“Five a.m. Oh, boy,” I sighed. “Thank you.”
I sat down on the bench next to the bus stop to think. It was only five o’clock Friday evening. I had a long wait. As I was sitting there thinking, I hadn’t realized I was also reading a sign: “Visit the Bronx Zoo.”
“The zoo! What a wonderful idea. Would you like to go to the zoo, Doggie?”
He was very excited.
I asked a lady waiting by the bus stop where the zoo was, and she pointed the way for me. I thanked her and left.
Doggie and I walked down Tremont Avenue until we reached Boston Road. We turned right and walked a few blocks more. There was the zoo. It was closed.
The sign on the front gate said the zoo would reopen on Saturday at one p.m. I decided to walk around the zoo to look for a place to sneak in. I found one almost immediately. There was a low spot in the fence. I checked around to see if anyone was watching, and nobody was. I dropped my bag and kicked it through the fence. Next, I slid under myself. I was in.
I took Doggie from the bag.
“Isn’t this great? A whole zoo all to ourselves.”
We walked around looking at some of the animals. It was so quiet and still. Occasionally I heard the roar of one of the lions or tigers. I was very excited.
As the sun began to set, Doggie and I sat on a bench to rest.
“We have a small problem, Doggie. We don’t have any food.”
He agreed that was a problem.
Suddenly I saw a light. We were not alone. I jumped over the top of the bench I was sitting on and scrambled into the bushes. A policeman on a little scooter rode by. Oh, gosh, I’d better be careful. I decided to stay right where I was until morning. I propped up the bag and rested my head against it. I held Doggie close to my cheek and looked up at the darkening sky. I missed Mom.
“I don’t like running away too much, Doggie,” I whispered. “It’s lonely.”
Saturday morning came up with warm sunshine and the sounds of many small birds. I popped my head through the top of the bushes to look around. There were a number of workmen in the area. I ducked back into the bushes.
“I think we should stay here until the zoo opens, Doggie,” I whispered. “There are lots of men out there.”
I took out some comic books and reread them. I was trying to get my mind off food, but it wasn’t working. I had an Archie comic that showed Jughead eating bunches of hamburgers. I decided to look at my baseball cards. I’ll have to get some new ones, I thought. The 1951 season’s started already.
I was lying back against my shopping bag and dreaming about how nice it would be to go to a baseball game someday when I heard a kid’s voice. I popped out of the bushes and saw some kids with their parents.
“Oh, great!”
I ducked back into the bushes and began packing up my things.
“Come on, Doggie…food!”
I stashed my bag in the bushes and left. With Doggie tucked under my arm, I headed for the main restaurant. I stood Doggie up on a table near one of the trash baskets. I figured the best place to get anything to eat for nothing was at the trash basket. We waited a long time. Finally a lady threw away half a bag of popcorn. I swiped it out of the basket.
I finished the popcorn but was still very hungry.
“Hey, sonny. Who you waitin’ for?” a man with a white paper hat asked me. He was sweeping the floor around the basket.
“Uh…I’m waiting for my friend Sal.”
“Oh. ’cause the boss don’t like no one hangin’ around that ain’t eatin’.”
“Oh.”
“What time is he comin’.”
“About five o’clock.”
“We close at five oclock. You can’t wait here all that time without eating nothin’.” He turned his head in all directions. “Wait here,” he said.
He swept his way back toward the restaurant and then disappeared. I wondered if I was gonna get in trouble. Maybe I shouldn’t wait, maybe I should leave. I was about to leave when I saw him backing out of the restaurant door. He turned toward me. He was carrying a frankfurter, a soda cup, and a bag of potato chips. He had the chips tucked under his arm. He looked both ways as he approached me.
“Here, kid. Eat ’em slow. You gots three hours to wait.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But why?”
“My boss is a mean guy. I don’t like chasin’ people away, and I don’t like gettin’ yelled at.” He smiled and left.
I shared my food with Doggie.
“He sure was a nice man.”
Doggie agreed.
I took my time eating. I had a lot more than three hours to wait, but the man didn’t know that. He thought I meant five o’clock today. After I finished eating, I slipped out of the restaurant.
Doggie and I visited lots of animals. We saw the seals, the monkeys, and the lions. We liked the monkeys the best. We were in the area of the bears when a zoo keeper told everyone it was closing time.
Doggie and I made our way back to our bushes and slipped in.
“Wasn’t that fun?” I asked.
He thought it was terrific. He wondered why the zoo didn’t have any doggies.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe some zoos are only for animals you can’t keep as pets. You know, like a lion or a giraffe.”
He figured I was right, but he still wanted to see at least one doggie in the zoo.
“Well, you’re here,” I said.
He couldn’t argue with that.
I took out my comics and my baseball cards. I read to Doggie from the backs of the cards. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep.
Sunday was more of the same. We waited in the bushes until visitors arrived. We walked around and saw the animals. We stayed clear of the main restaurant because we didn’t want to run into the nice man again. He might get suspicious if he saw me waiting two days in a row. I hung around the area of one of the smaller food stands. Late in the afternoon people started throwing things away. I retrieved half a frankfurter and some more popcorn. I found an empty soda cup and filled it with water. None of what I found was very filling, but it had to do. Before the zoo closed for the night, I found some Cracker Jack and another half of a frankfurter. I washed it off and wrapped it in a napkin to save for later.
The sun was long gone and the night sky was filled with stars. I lay with my head against the bag, Doggie tucked under my arm.
I fell asleep thinking about how nice it was when I had friends, and when all my brothers talked to each other, and when Mom wasn’t sick. I thought about how long ago it was when I only cried because I hurt my knee or didn’t want to go to bed. I wished things were like that again.
11
“Jennings!” Sal bellowed out. “What are you doing here?”
“I ran away,” I mumbled. I stood on the top step of his bus. He held out his arms for me to come to him. I fell into his arms and started to cry. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it.
“What’s the matter, son?”
I cried hard against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and patted my back.
“Shhhh,” he whispered. “You’re here now with me. Don’t cry.”
He pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and started wiping my eyes and nose.
“Blow!” he said.
I did. He wiped my nose and tucked the handkerchief into my top pocket.
“Now, sit down and talk to me.”
I sat down behind him and hung over the back of his seat. I told him it wasn’t really my schoolwork that had made me so quiet. I told him it was all the unhappiness at home. I told him about George’s drinking and about Larry running away. I asked him if I could live with him.
“What would your mother say? Don’t you think she’ll miss you? Don’t you think she misses you now?”
I didn’t answer him. I knew he was right.
“Are you hungry?”
“Oh, yeah!”
“Good!” he said. “We’ll stop after this run and get something to eat.”
I watched the people getting on and off Sal’s bus. I let my chin ride on the bar in back of his seat.
At the end of the run we went to a diner for breakfast. Sal ordered bacon, eggs, and pancakes for me. I propped Doggie up alongside the salt and pepper shakers and fed him some bacon.
After we ate, Sal ordered another cup of coffee.
“What are you going to do next?” he asked.
“Well…I guess I’ll go back to the zoo.”
He laughed. “I got a better idea. I’ll take you home.”
“Do you have to?”
“Yes, son.” He got serious. “I have to.”
“Oh, gosh, that’s not a better idea.”
“How about…if I take you home and ask your mother if I can come to visit you every so often. Is that a better idea?”
I thought about it for a long moment. “I guess that’s not a bad idea.”
He laughed. He leaned over to pinch my cheek.
“Sal…” I said.
“Yes?”
“What good is it to like people?”
“What?”
“What good is it—?”
“Yeah, I heard you. I just wanted to know where that came from.”
“Larry said it ain’t no good to like people ’cause they’re always going away. Especially the ones you really like.”
“Like me, for instance?”
“Uh…”
“Listen, son. Larry’s wrong. There’s a lot of good in liking people, even if they do go away.”
“What?”
“Well, you at least enjoyed liking them, knowing them, and being with them when they were there. Didn’t you?”
“But it hurts.”
“Of course it does. And the more it hurts, the more you know just how special they were to you. If you never liked anyone because you were afraid they’d go away, you’d never know the joy of friendship. You would always be alone.”
“Like the old man on the bench?”
“Just like the old man on the bench. You see, son, friendship is when your path crosses someone else’s. For however long a time that may be, if you like talking to and being with that person, there’s a joy in that. And when you part company, your sadness will only be as great as the joy you shared.”
Sal took me home.
Mom hugged and kissed me. She cried and yelled at me.
“Where were you?” she asked. “I was worried sick.”
“I went to the zoo.”
“For three days!”
“Uh…I like the zoo.”
She hugged me again. “Don’t ever do that again!” She cried. “And thank you, Sal, for bringing him home.”
Sal scratched the top of my head. “I’d like to talk
to you, Mrs. Burch,” he said.
“Rita. Please call me Rita,” she said. “I feel I’ve known you for some time. Jennings has spoken of you so often.”
“Why, thank you.”
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
“Yes. Yes, I would.”
Mom made Sal some coffee. They sat at the small table in the living room. Mom sent me into the bedroom so they could talk in private.
“Hey, Doggie,” I said, “this is too important not to listen.”
He agreed, but thought it wasn’t nice to listen.
“If it was about just any old thing, I’d agree, but this is about Sal seeing me or not.”
We listened. I pressed my ear against the crack in the door. I couldn’t hear everything, but I did hear Mom say yes, it was all right for Sal to see me once in a while on weekends.
“Why do you want to do this?” she asked him.
“Well, when a boy travels that far and waits three days to see me, he’s really telling me he has a need. I’d like to try to help him fill that need, if I could.”
“That’s kind of you,” she said.
“Well, I’m not trying to be kind,” he said. “I’m trying to be responsive.”
“But you don’t owe him anything.”
“Don’t I? Doesn’t everyone who has something to give owe a little to those who need? He just needs a little time, and I have it.”
“I don’t understand all that stuff, Doggie,” I said. “I just know we’re gonna see Sal. Yippee!” I threw Doggie in the air and caught him as I landed on the bed.
I wish Larry was around. He’d change his mind about not liking anyone. He’d like Sal.
Sal started to come on the weekends. He took Mom, Gene, and me to bunches of places. He took us to Alley Pond Park for picnics, for drives in the country, and swimming at Jones Beach. Once in a while Walter came with us. Sal started to teach him how to drive the car. It was really nice having Sal around; he made a difference in the family. He came during the week sometimes and brought lots of food. He cooked dinner, or took everyone out. Occasionally he and Mom went out by themselves.
Sal made Mom forget her problems. She laughed a lot more and cried a whole lot less. She had a friend. Walter liked driving Sal’s car, he liked playing Scrabble and other games with Sal and Mom, and he liked having some fun for a change. And Gene was absolutely crazy about Sal. He couldn’t sit down without Gene climbing all over him.
They Cage the Animals at Night Page 17