The Town Crazy

by Suzzy Roche

  Alice shrugged. “I’m the old maid.”

  “You should be on TV.”

  “I should?”

  “Would you get your picture taken with me?” he said.

  “I’m not really allowed. I have to do it with the twins because we’re all from the same card game,” she said. She started to walk on, but Felix grabbed her arm.

  “Please.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, glancing around to see if anyone noticed she was talking to him.

  “Come on,” said Felix. “No one else will take their picture with me.”

  “Okay. Maybe. But first I have to do it with them.”

  CLARISSE MCCARTHY, having quickly downed her glass of punch, zigzagged over to Alice, swooped in, and grabbed her by the hand. “We’re waiting for you!” she said, ushering her over to the photographer’s station, where she arranged the girls on the black velvet platform, placing Alice in the center.

  “Now, sweetie, just stand holding your pocketbook in front of you and stare straight into the camera. Don’t smile!”

  She directed Dawn to Alice’s left, and Fawn to her right.

  “They look darling,” declared Ginny Rice, from a cluster of mothers who had gathered to watch the photo shoot. “I smell first prize,” she whispered to Vicki Thomas. Clarisse McCarthy had done it again. The photographer snapped the picture and the flash went off.

  Felix tugged on his coat and said, “Can I go next, Mister?”

  The fact that Teresa Sepolino had a line of children waiting didn’t seemed to matter to the photographer.

  “Come on, quick. It’s our turn!” said Felix, grabbing Alice. They climbed onto the makeshift stage, and Felix held his pitchfork to one side as he took hold of Alice’s hand.

  “No, no, NO! What are you doing?” yelled Clarisse. The photographer stepped back from his camera, as Clarisse clunked up to the platform in her white high heels. “You’ve had your picture already, Alice. You don’t belong in this one.” She pulled Alice by her purple purse. But someone called out, “What’s the problem here?”

  Clarisse, recognizing Luke Spoon’s voice, swung herself around so quickly that her foot slipped off the platform, and her left breast popped out of her dress.

  “Darn it!” she said, embracing it with both hands as if it were a newborn puppy. The slightest smile brushed across her lips. There he was—her lover—standing before her, his arms akimbo.

  Luke laughed. “Come on, let them be, Clarisse.”

  “Luke!” cried Felix, raising his pitchfork.

  “Hold on, son, stay right there. I brought my camera, too.

  Luke Spoon peered through his camera. “Clarisse, you’re in the shot.” He waved her away, slightly amused.

  Frank McCarthy, who had been outside smoking, now wandered back into the party and, sensing his wife was at the center of a commotion, came to see what was up.

  “Sweetie, what the hell?” he said, when he pushed to the front of the crowd. Clarisse was breathless, on the verge of hysterics, whether it was tears or laughter, or some kind of impression of Marilyn Monroe, he couldn’t determine.

  “Oh, Frank, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s no big deal.”

  And everybody laughed. What better entertainment could there be than the juxtaposition of Luke Spoon and the exposed breast of Clarisse McCarthy? It really was a highlight.

  Luke called out to Felix and Alice, “Stay right there you two. Let me grab a few more shots.” He snapped five pictures in rapid succession.

  LIL WATCHED the picture taking from across the room. It was surreal to be an onlooker, as if the town had taken possession of her daughter.

  Lil couldn’t help thinking that Clarisse McCarthy, with all her rules and regulations, had killed Alice’s Sneedler.

  She ducked up the back staircase to the Jesus room and began to gather her things. Once the party was over, she’d take Alice home. She’d have to make it right with Jim somehow, and she’d tell Alice that Sneedler wasn’t dead, and in fact, he’d never die; he’d be with her forever.

  Lil left the Jesus room determined to go back to the party with her head held high, but she stopped when she saw a woman sitting in a wooden chair by one of the doorways in the long hallway. The woman was wearing a satin dress, the color of orchids, and it hugged her body’s every curve. Her black hair was cropped close to her head, like a boy’s, and she sat with her legs crossed, one foot nervously bobbing up and down. She was smoking a cigarette and flicking the ashes on the floor. She looked up at Lil. With heavily made-up eyes and thick red lips, she looked like an actress in a French film—pretty, but not dainty—and Lil didn’t get the feeling she was dressed up for Halloween. Nor did she get the feeling that she was glad to be discovered there.

  Before they had a chance to speak, footsteps trampled up the back stairs, and Felix Spoon charged through the door. One of his horns had fallen to the side of his cap. The boy’s father followed close behind him. Felix stopped short, as Joni snuffed her cig with her foot.

  A REUNION with his mother was something that Felix had imagined many times, though on this crazy night, when everyone seemed like someone else, it took a moment for him to believe that she was really there. Silently, he looked her over.

  First it was her big black eyes, then her cheeks, and then … her lips. He knew the way she turned her lipstick tube, how she pressed her lips together, how she checked them in the mirror. Com’ere, Felix, let me put some color on your cheeks. And there were the tiny lines around her eyes.

  “Mother,” he thought he said. But no sound came out. He tried again, and then again, until he heard the whisper of his own voice. “Mother.”

  “Hey there, buster,” she said, reaching out her hand.

  A terrible sadness crept into his face. He felt his lips pull into a frown, and his breath took him by force until tears flowed down his cheeks.

  Joni knelt down in front of him and took his hands. “Felix, what’s the trouble? It’s okay.”

  Felix just shook his head no. He closed his eyes, and crawled into the cave of his mother’s arms, giving way to a kind of resting that he hadn’t felt since the day that he’d come home from school and Luke told him she was gone.

  In time, Joni set Felix back on his feet. “You look so grown up and beautiful. But where did you get this crazy costume?”

  With his eyes locked on hers, he whispered, “All the nuns made it. And her.” He pointed at Lil.

  “Her? Who’s her?”

  “Alice’s mother.”

  “I heard about Alice. Luke told me about her.” Joni turned to Lil. “Hello, Alice’s mother, I’m Felix’s mother, Joni. You must be Lil.” She reached out her hand and shook Lil’s.

  Lil was not accustomed to feeling envious. But the sheer strength of Joni’s handshake stirred her. So, this is what happens when you live in New York City. You wear shiny dresses, you paint your face with bright colors, your eyes are fierce, and you know you’re right. Strength is beauty. You don’t mince around.

  “What about this contest?” said Joni to Felix. “Are you going to win? What do you think?

  “I don’t care about it,” he said. He looked at Lil. “I don’t care.”

  Joni put her hands firmly on his shoulders. “Come on, sport. Let’s have some fun, like we used to do.”

  Felix wiped his eyes with two fists, but then he took his mother’s hand, and his father’s, too. Joni led the way, a vision in purple, and Luke Spoon, who had scrambled the wild imaginations of the women in Hanzloo, now seemed demystified, following his wife and child in benign devotion.

  Lil wondered how it could be so easy. What kind of confidence was this? To leave your child for a year, and then come back one Halloween and say, “Now let’s have some fun?” Maybe it was that easy. Maybe, if you had a little nerve, anything was possible.

  THE KIDS were lining up for the big moment. Huddled in the far corner of the room, Father Moore and Father Aloysius looked over their list of contestants.


  “Who the hell is that?” Clarisse blurted out to no one in particular when she spotted Luke and Felix Spoon being led across the room by the raven-haired bombshell in the purple dress.

  “Huh?” said Frank, and then, “Wow.”

  Everyone took notice. It had to be his wife. So that was Mrs. Spoon.

  Clarisse glared, idly licking her bottom lip, as Luke and his family made their way through the guests. She seethed as Lil O’Brien followed close behind them. Of course Luke Spoon would pull a gorgeous, young, sophisticated wife out of his back pocket.

  Clarisse could have sobbed right then and there. She could have fallen to her knees in anguish, but she had the good sense to know when a battle was lost; you don’t look back, you forge ahead. It was time for the contest, and she wanted to win.

  MOTHERS RUSHED to straighten their children’s costumes and prepare them to parade across the room.

  Frank snuck up beside Clarisse and slipped his arm around her waist. “Hello Marilyn,” he whispered into her ear.

  He wasn’t Luke Spoon, but he was hers. “Frank,” she said. “I have to get the girls ready.”

  “Okay, sugar. I want to see a prize this year!”

  “Ha,” she said, and pecked him on the cheek.

  Clarisse pushed through the crowd, deciding how to arrange the girls. When she caught up with them, they were a mess. The twins were jumping up and down. First, she rearranged Dawn’s ballerina bun, pulling it tightly on the top of her head until the girl cried, “Ouch!” Moistening her fingers with her tongue, she flattened a few loose wisps of hair. She reapplied their lipstick. Fawn’s peacock feather had drooped and needed propping up.

  “Now, Alice, darling,” Clarisse said, as she yanked Alice’s dress and buttoned her sweater, “I want you to walk a few steps behind the girls and stare straight ahead with a frown. Don’t look around, okay? Remember, you’re the crabby old maid. Do you think you can do that?”

  Alice nodded yes.

  To her girls, Clarisse said, “You two wave and smile, okay? And Dawn, you can do some twirls. And Fawny … just pretend you’re Mommy and give ’em heck. Now, all three of you, listen to me carefully. When you get in front of the priests, for heaven’s sake, look them in the eye. Got it?”

  The girls held hands and danced in a circle.

  NOW THAT masqueraders were ready, their parents lined the sides of the room, revved up on cookies and punch. Lil had wanted to speak with Alice, but when she saw her with the twins, she thought better of interrupting. Instead, she secured a spot beside the Spoons.

  The parade of masqueraders began. Though many of the costumes were unremarkable and ordinary, having been conceived in a hurry, without much thought, no one minded. There were some repeats from last year, a tired Raggedy Ann costume had worked its way down through a family of four sisters, and everyone recognized the Harris kid’s scarecrow for the third year in a row. Early on, little Julie Murphy, dressed as a cat, ripped off her ears and stood pouting at the front of the line, until her father was called in to remove her.

  One of the favorites was a two-headed monster: two boys from the fifth grade who’d managed to fit themselves into a ketchup-stained sheet with one neckhole. Fake fangs in their mouths, they growled as they crossed the floor, trying not to trip over each other.

  Alice and the twins had been placed toward the end of the line, and when it was their turn, they rose to the occasion. Lil waved at Alice as she passed, but Alice stared ahead, walking slowly in her heavy shoes and clutching her purse. The twins, like contestants in a beauty pageant, blew kisses as they went.

  The girls presented well, each taking a moment to turn in a circle so the priests could examine them closely.

  A reluctant Felix Spoon was the last child in the line. His mother stood behind him, and when his time came, she gave him a push.

  Sisters Ann, Clare Veronica and old Rita Joseph paused, dirty paper plates in hand, to watch the boy. It wasn’t right for the sisters to be partial, but they were rooting for him.

  Felix Spoon blossomed. He held his pitchfork high in his hand and marched triumphantly across the floor. When he reached the priests, he bowed deeply, causing an uneasy ripple of laughter to flow through the crowd. There was no denying he was a captivating devil.

  Father Moore and Father Aloysius stood with pad and pencil in hand, scribbling their observations. Now they com pared notes to decide upon the finalists, while Sister Ann stood by with a bumpy sack of prizes.

  Father Aloysius stepped up and tapped a fork against a water glass to hush the crowd. “May I have your attention,” he bellowed. “We’d like to see the following contestants back on the floor.” The room settled.

  Sister Annunciata emerged from the kitchen, dishrag in each hand, and poked through the crowd in time to hear that Felix had been called to step into the center of the room with the other finalists: the two-headed monster, the McCarthy twins, and Alice O’Brien.

  The six finalists lined up before the priests, who stood with crossed arms. “Can we see the two-headed monster, please?” said Father Moore.

  The two-headed monster had trouble maneuvering. After a long night of operating as one entity, the boys had grown irritated with each other. Their neckhole had loosened considerably, exposing the tops of their shoulders. But they had made their own costume, and originality certainly had to count for something.

  Dawn McCarthy was called up next. She performed an impressive assemblé but lost her balance at the last minute. She made a graceful recovery, lifting her chin to finish, and the two priests nodded approvingly.

  Fawn followed her sister. Dragging her stuffed poodle behind her, she posed coquettishly with her hand on her hip. When she took her final turn around, Father Moore said, “Lovely, dear. I like your feather!”

  Alice O’Brien was next in line, but her nerves began to eat at her, and she froze when Father Aloysius called her name. “Earth to Alice,” said Father Aloysius.

  “I’ll go,” said Felix Spoon. “She’s scared.”

  “But there’s nothing to be scared of. This is supposed to be fun,” said the father, looking around for confirmation. “Come ahead, Felix Spoon.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” asked Felix, as he stepped forward, holding his pitchfork, tines up.

  “Well, do what the devil would do. Within reason, of course,” said Father Aloysius.

  Felix thought about it.

  “I don’t like this game,” he said, laying his pitchfork before the priests. He looked back toward the crowd to find his parents. A murmur ran through the party. When Luke Spoon stepped out onto the floor and took Felix’s hand, Clarisse couldn’t help but whisper to her husband, “Great, you can cross him off the list.”

  Now the focus turned back to Alice, as Father Aloysius said, “Okay, Miss O’Brien, this is your moment. It’s now or never.”

  Dawn pinched Alice’s arm. “Don’t be dumb!” she whispered.

  Alice stepped up and faced her judges somberly, still clutching her purple purse with both hands as Clarisse McCarthy had instructed her to do.

  “Well, dear, I understand you’re the old maid from the famous card game. Show us, what would the old maid do?” said Father Moore.

  Alice lifted her hand and pointed at the priests. She drew her face into a knot, and wagged her finger at them, as if they were children who were being punished.

  The last thing the priests expected from Alice O’Brien was a scolding, and they burst into laughter, which quickly spread to the audience, as Alice took her place beside the twins.

  The priests spent some long, tense minutes coming to their decision, while the finalists fidgeted in the center of the floor. Finally, Father Aloysius tapped on his water glass.

  “We’ve chosen,” said Father Moore. Silence fell over the crowd, but for one small child, who could be heard whining, “I want to go home!”

  “And third prize goes to: Tom Harris and Joe Echy as the two-headed monster!” said Father Moore. Cheers wen
t up, and the two boys, as if they couldn’t wait a moment longer, threw off their sheet and separated with great relief.

  Tiny Sister Ann came forward with the prizes: two plastic statues of St. Patrick. The boys examined the statues, and then hoisted them high into the air.

  Father Aloysius tapped again on his water glass. “And second prize goes to Fawn McCarthy! AND … Dawn McCarthy! Let’s hear it for the twins!” The girls glanced around, confused. “You both won!” said Sister Ann, rushing in with two ceramic statues of the Blessed Mother. “Look how special these are,” she said, as she handed the girls their prizes. “They came all the way from Rome!” Though the McCarthy twins understood that they had not won first prize, Sister Ann’s enthusiasm was infectious. They took their statues and kissed them and then held them high, just like the boys had done.

  As Alice O’Brien watched them raise their statues, she longed to be included, and wished that she, too, could hold hands and hug them. But now the attention fell on her, standing alone before the judges.

  “Alice O’Brien, why so glum?” said Father Moore. “You’ve won first prize!” Sister Ann scurried out once more, this time with Alice’s prize: a large crucifix, about a foot long. Nailed to it, a silver Jesus. She placed it in Alice’s arms like a baby, and applause rose to fill the room. When the twins gathered around to examine her prize, it didn’t take long for all the little girls of Hanzloo to come running out from the sidelines and circle around Alice in a frenzy of congratulations. Everybody loved the winner.

  TWENTY-SIX

  AFTER THE CONTEST, the party thinned out. The floor was littered with soiled paper plates, crumpled napkins, and discarded masks. Sister Ann pushed a wide broom across the floor, and Sister Clare Veronica collected the melted candles. Clarisse lingered by the punch bowl, receiving congratulations from guests who were on their way home, while her husband helped the nuns with some of the heavier chairs.

  Her girls didn’t win the top prize, but the fact that Alice O’Brien had triumphed turned out to be working in her favor. The women, who had been standoffish of late, now warmed to her. Even Ginny Rice offered a compliment on her way out. But out of the corner of her eye, as she shook hands and smiled, she saw Luke Spoon, his arm around his wife.