Sugar House (9780991192519)

by Scheffler, Jean

  "Fine, fine… I was so sorry to hear about Mr. Stanislewki. How are you faring?" Walter's father had died in combat in France at the beginning of the war. He, like Ojciec, had volunteered for the army so he could become a citizen.

  "As well as we can. Walter had to drop out of school to help us stay afloat. He's working down at the boat docks and gives me all his pay to help with the bills and groceries. I don't know how I would survive without him."

  "Yes, Walter had always been a good boy," Matka responded, patting Joe's red-faced friend on the head. Walter hardly looked like a boy to Joe. He must have grown six inches since they had least seen each other and sported a soft blonde mustache on his upper lip.

  "How's it going, Joe?" Walter asked. "Glad to hear you're all better."

  "Thanks, Walt. It's going good. Doing some odd jobs in the neighborhood to help out, and I've been back at school for over a year now.. How's work at the docks?" But before Walter could respond, the sound of trumpets and bugles could be heard, and the traffic driving on Woodward was directed onto the side streets. The shoppers and businessmen, who had been going about their errands, stopped and lined up on the sidewalks to watch the soldiers march by. The people of the city had grown accustomed to this monthly or sometimes weekly event but always stopped to cheer for the rows of men going off to fight.

  Joe grabbed the hands of his mother and Frank and pulled them to the edge of the sidewalk. They stood there waving and searching for Ojciec as the uniformed men marched in unison. Frank saw him first, "There's Papa! There he is, in the middle," he yelled. Joe squinted into the sunshine and saw the familiar frame of his father approaching amidst his fellow troops.

  "Pożegnanie, Ojciec! Goodbye!" Joe yelled as his father neared. Ojciec turned his head slightly, and seeing his family waving, he smiled and gave a wink and continued down the street. Hundreds more men followed after Ojciec passed. Mrs. Stanislewski, Walter, and the Jopolowskis waved and cheered for the men. A large regiment of black men proudly marched at the end of the parade, and their women and children tried to fight their way to the edge of the sidewalks so they could say their goodbyes. Some let the black families make their way to the street, while others blocked their way in a show of superiority. Joe became upset when an obese man standing next to him purposefully obstructed the path of a thin Negro woman.

  "Hey, mister! Her family's leaving same as mine and yours, and she has just as much right to wave goodbye as we do." The man looked down at Joe with a look of disdain and turned his attention back to the avenue. "Here lady," Joe said, grabbing her hand. "You can take my spot. My father's gone by already." He gently pulled her over to him and stood behind her so she could see. She smiled her thanks at him and searched the rows of soldiers to find her man. Joe looked over at his mother to see her reaction, but she hadn't noticed his act of kindness. She was holding Stephan tightly in her arms and trying to pick up Frank, who was crying. Joe pushed through the crowd and picked up Frank. "Stop crying, Frank," he whispered in his ear. "It's not patriotic."

  "I'm only crying cause Matka was," he told his big brother. Joe looked up at his mother and saw her eyes were red and weeping.

  "Matka," he said. "Be brave. Ojciec wouldn't want you to be standing here crying on the street." Joe was slightly embarrassed his mother had shown such weakness in public. He'd felt tears gather in his eyes when Ojciec had passed by but had quickly blinked them away before anyone could notice. His mother wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, and they made their way down the sidewalk as the crowds began to disperse. "I know. Let's go get something to eat. That'll take our minds off of Ojciec leaving," Joe said.

  "I didn't bring my purse, Joe. I wasn't planning on buying anything today. I have cold ham in the icebox if you're hungry."

  "I have money. Come on Matka. It'll be fun. I know just the place, and it's not far from here." Matka looked down at her boys and composed herself. Three sweet faces beseeching her for a distraction from their own sadness helped her overcome her own sorrow.

  "You're right, Joe," she said, "and if you want to treat your family to lunch, who am I to stop you?" The family walked a few blocks toward the river and turned onto Lafayette Boulevard. "Where are you taking us, Joe?" she asked.

  "The All American restaurant," he replied. "I read about it in the paper. It opened last year and they have sausage sandwiches and chili. I thought since you and Ojciec will be officially all-American when he gets back, it'd be a good place for us to go."

  Matka laughed and said that Joe was sweet and very smart and that the All American sounded like a perfect place to eat. The restaurant was small and narrow. A white marble counter ran along the back wall, with metal stools screwed into the floor in front of it. They found a small empty table near the far wall and sat down. The eatery was packed with businessmen grabbing a quick bite to eat. Short Greek waiters hopped through the horde carrying trays of food, yelling orders to the small kitchen in the back.

  They were approached by a handsome Greek man, wearing a white apron and pointed paper hat. "Hello, I'm Gus" he said, "What can I get for you folks?"

  Joe quickly scanned the menu hanging over the counter. "We'll have three bowls of chili, three wieners, and three Coca-Colas," he said.

  "All right. Coming right up, young man. How's about some crackers for your little brother?" Joe nodded his assent, and the man was gone. Joe translated the order to his mother, and she asked what a wiener was. He told her it was a mild sausage on a bun. She looked relieved. Three minutes later, Gus returned with their order.

  "Wow that was fast!" Joe said, looking at the food on the table. "But we didn't order any potato chips."

  "Comes with the wiener, son. I decided I had to have a little extra something to go with the hotdog when I opened this place. Potato chips are about as cheap as you can get, and people seem to enjoy them. So eat up," Gus said with a smile.

  Joe and Frank bit into their wieners and smiled at each other. "Try it, Matka," Frank implored. "They're good."

  Blanca tentatively took a bite and smiled back at her boys. "It sort of tastes like a German sausage." She quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard her. Since the start of the war, the government had been distributing anti-German propaganda in newsreels and papers. Sauerkraut had been renamed liberty cabbage, and a month before a man had been lynched in the South just for speaking German. Luckily, no one had heard her in the noisy restaurant. Joe ate his bowl of chili quickly. His appetite had finally returned that spring. Sometimes he felt like he'd never be full—even eating his mother's cooking.

  Matka took turns giving Stephan a cracker or bit of bun and taking bites of her hot dog. Joe watched a man hurriedly pour the remains of his chili bowl onto his hot dog, finish it off and head out the door. Funny, he thought. He told Matka and Frank what he'd seen. Matka shook her head, laughed, and said that eating too fast could only hurt a person's digestive system. Joe walked to the cash register and paid for their meal: five cents each for the wieners, ten cents a bowl of chili, and two cents each for the drinks. He counted out fifty one cents and left a dime on the table for Gus.

  The house seemed empty when they walked into the kitchen, silent and lonely. Aunt Hattie had made some prażonki, a potato and sausage casserole, and left it on the kitchen table.

  "Well, thank the Lord for family," Matka said. "At least I won't have to cook supper today."

  Matka walked into the living room, sat down in Ojciec's chair and put her face in her hands. Joe took Stephan upstairs, laid him in his crib for a nap, came downstairs, and knelt next to his mother's feet. Matka laid her hand on the top of Joe's head and smiled.

  "Don't worry, my son," she said. "No more tears from your mother today. We'll be fine. Look, already you have provided your first meal for the family, and your father probably hasn't even got on the train yet! Now go play outside with your friends. It's a nice day and you could use some fun." Joe kissed his mother on the hand, looking back just once as he headed out the door. He smiled at her
and ran down the front steps.

  Chapter Twenty

  "They'll never pass it!"

  "They can't do that. It's a crime against our rights!"

  "My family will starve. How am I supposed to make a living?"

  Talk was unending, angry, and loud as Joe made his way through the city with his little wagon performing his odd jobs and errands. It seemed to Joe that the news of the war had suddenly been superseded by the subject of Prohibition. Several states had already outlawed liquor or beer or both, and many counties in Michigan had voted themselves dry. Now the voters of the State of Michigan had approved a prohibition amendment to be added to the state constitution, and Detroit was to become the largest city in the nation to fall under the Great Experiment. The law would not be enforced for another year, but the city was already in an uproar. Tavern owners were furious, and most immigrants felt that wine and beer were part of their heritage. Of course, no one could deny the negative effect liquor had on some of the city's lesser citizens. Drunks sleeping on sidewalks, in parks, or the stoop of a store or church were almost a daily sight.

  Real men drank, be it liquor or beer. But when they drank so much that they couldn't take care of their families, they were not real men. It had been like that for a hundred years, and the effects were starting to cause the nation's work and morals to decline; or so said the temperance groups, the Anti-Saloon League chief among them. The nation's brewers had tried to counteract the movement with positive propaganda promoting beer. Pictures of babies holding a beer, nursing mothers sipping from a stein, and elderly men drinking from a bottle with the slogan "Beer—It's the Health Drink" were posted on the windows of saloons and on street corners.

  How can everyone care so much about beer when our fathers are over there, fighting and dying? Joe thought. Boy, people can be so stupid… just let them drink their old beer. It's their choice and then maybe we can get back to fighting the war and getting the soldiers home.

  Of course, the anticipation of Prohibition hadn't hurt his business. Two of his elderly widowed customers had him making weekly trips to the druggists for their "special medicine" so they would be well stocked when the law came into effect. Joe could tell from the effects the medicine had on them that there had to be quite a bit of liquor in the bottles labeled Doc Schwietz's Miracle Cure and Humphreys 77 for grippe, influenza, and colds.

  Chapter Twenty One

  The weather was turning warmer. Hyacinths, tulips, and daffodils sprung up in the small yards of Joe's neighborhood as a sign of God's promise that Easter would arrive soon. Every time he noticed a new flower shoot out of the ground during his daily trek he would smile to himself; grateful that Lent was soon to be over. His mother in her devout Catholicism had implemented a strict rule of fasting for the family during the last forty days. She believed if their family fasted as the Catholic Church decreed, their sacrifice would assist in Ojciec's safe return. She had prepared only fish, cabbage, kasha, and potato dishes for the last month, and Joe was craving meat. The delicious smells of smoked kielbasa and ham that poured out of less devout homes made his mouth water. But he didn't succumb to his taste buds, believing that God would take special watch over Ojciec in exchange for his sacrifice.

  Matka and Aunt Hattie began to prepare the traditional fluffy baba and nut mazurek cakes. Uncle Alexy bought kielbasa and ham for Easter breakfast. Joe collected the eggs from the chickens and kept them in the icebox. Marya and Pauline had the chore of laundering the sheets, curtains, tablecloths, and napkins to prepare for the holiday. The only thing that was missing was Ojciec, but the family would say many prayers for his quick return at Easter Mass.

  On Holy Thursday, Joe and Frank were in the kitchen trying to wash the walls and the floor, while Stephan was doing his best to tip the bucket of water over, when they heard a scream come from Aunt Hattie's house. Joe told Frank to watch their little brother and ran next door. Joe pushed past two tall men in the doorway towards where his Aunt Hattie was kneeling on the floor of the foyer. Her skirt had risen above her knees and her knees and thighs were exposed revealing her pasty white cellulite skin. Did these men hurt my aunt? he thought. He turned from her to face the men and prepared to defend his ground. Fists clenched he reeled up and suddenly stopped mid-flight. Both men were dressed in army uniforms.

  "It's ok, young man," said the taller one, who had lieutenant bars. "She's just had a bit of a shock. Why don't you fetch her a glass of water?" Joe went to the kitchen and retrieved a small glass of water and handed it to his aunt, who was still kneeling on the floor and sobbing. "Oh Joe," she cried, as she grasped the glass with shaking hands.

  "What is it, Aunt Hattie? Why are these soldiers here?"

  "Oh Joe…" but she couldn't finish. She began to moan and cry again. She accidently tipped the glass of water onto the floor at her knees.

  "What is it?" he asked, looking up at the army lieutenant. "Why is my Aunt Hattie crying?"

  "I'm sorry to tell you son but your uncle has died. Your aunt is obviously quite devastated. Can you go get your mother? We could use her help in calming her down."

  "My mother's not home. She went to Eastern Market to buy some lamb butter for Easter. I don't understand… Did Uncle Alexy get hurt at the factory?"

  "At the factory? No," he said with a puzzled look on his face, "he died of pneumonia in France." Aunt Hattie let out a loud wail. Her upper body fell over her knees and her forehead touched the floor as she moaned and cried. Joe looked at his aunt and back at the soldiers. Uncle Alexy wasn't in France. His father was. All the blood poured from his face as he came to the realization of what had occurred.

  "Oh damn. We got the wrong house" was the last thing he heard as the shorter man, a sergeant, rushed to grab Joe before his body fell to the floor.

  Joe regained consciousness a couple minutes later. He was lying on Aunt Hattie's couch with a cold rag on his forehead. Aunt Hattie's mothering instincts had finally beat out her grief, and she was patting his cheeks trying to bring him around. The two officers were standing in the hallway nervously whispering and looking over at Joe and his aunt.

  "Joe, do you think you can speak?" Aunt Hattie asked in Polish. Joe nodded and weakly said yes.

  "How long has your mother been gone?" Joe didn't answer. Aunt Hattie slightly shook his shoulders and pleaded, "Please Joe, how long has she been gone?"

  "About an hour," he whispered. Joe looked over his aunt's shoulder and saw Marya, Pauline, and Emilia shrunk together in the corner of the room. They'd been in the alley when they heard their mother scream and had rushed into the hall as Joe's body plummeted to the wood floor.

  "Quick, Marya. Go get Frank and Stephan and bring them over here. Don't tell them anything. You men will follow me and we will wait for Blanca in her parlor. Hurry now! You've already caused enough harm with your ignorance. Follow me." Aunt Hattie's broken English was difficult to understand but the officers comprehended her meaning and followed the husky woman out the door.

  Pauline grabbed Emilia's hand and sat on the worn couch next to Joe. She reached her small hand over and silently grabbed Joe's. Marya came in trying to balance a very large Stephan on her hip while arguing with Frank. "Why do I have to come to your dumb house?" He was badgering her. "Who are those soldiers and why do they get to stay there and I have to come over here?"

  "Shh! Frank. Just sit here and I'll read the comics to you and Stephan." Marya grabbed the newspaper and sat in the rocking chair with Stephan on her lap. "OK Frank, which one do you like best?"

  "I like 'Mutt and Jeff.'"

  "All right, I'll start with that one." Marya read all the comics and then she went on to the children's story on page eight. Then she read about the Easter preparations around the city and even an article about the tavern owners protesting Prohibition. Decidedly absent was any news of the war in her recitation. When she was reading the society news, Joe heard footsteps coming up the front steps of his porch. Quick and lively, his mother was eager to show the boys the lamb butter s
he had purchased for their Easter festivities. Marya stopped reading and looked sadly over at Joe. Joe looked at her and looked away. He couldn't take the look on her face.

  "Are we done reading now, Marya?" Frank asked. "Can we go home now? I want to play with my Lincoln logs."

  "I bet Stephan is hungry." she replied. "Are you hungry, Frank? Would you like a ham sandwich?"

  "Sure, but what about fasting?" he asked.

  "God won't mind," she replied. "it's close enough to Easter now." She led Joe's brothers into the kitchen, and Emilia followed her, unsure of what was going on but aware enough to know that she wanted to get out of the room. Joe realized he was still holding his cousin's hand and let go. Pauline clasped her hands together on her lap, and she sat still and silent as if she were a small rock he could lean on if needed.

  To Joe's surprise he didn't hear any screams or moans from next door. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He and Pauline must have sat like that for a half an hour, not moving or speaking, and still no noise came from the other house. Eventually, he heard the sound of the soldiers' footsteps walking slowly down the stairs. But still, no one opened Aunt Hattie's front door. Pauline got up, went into the kitchen, and brought Joe a glass of milk and a ham sandwich. She put it on the table next to him and sat back down on the couch. Joe couldn't eat. He couldn't move. "What was going on next door? Was his mother all right?" He couldn't think about Ojciec right now, so he focused his attention on his mother. Maybe he should just get up and go next door. Maybe Aunt Hattie needed help. But he couldn't get his arms to push himself off the couch, and he honestly wasn't sure if his legs were still attached to his hips.

  Marya came out of the kitchen followed by Emilia and the boys. Joe took one look at his brothers and found the will to get up. He stood at the edge of the couch and forced his right leg to take a step. The left followed. "Pauline," he said, "watch the little ones. Marya and I are going next door." Marya looked at Joe and nodded in agreement.