Hey, Kid! Does She Love Me?

by Harry Mazer

  ‘What’s that look in your eye?’

  ‘What look? It’s the setting sun.’

  She put her hand over his eyes. ‘I’m going to shut those hot eyes of yours.’

  He grabbed her wrist.

  She broke free. ‘Danny’s watching us … Play ball,’ she yelled, then she clapped her hands. ‘Go get them, Danny, pitch them out of there.’

  Danny adjusted his cap and spit in the dirt. Then he threw three straight pitches right over the batter’s head.

  Jeff and Tracy behaved themselves after that, but the damage was done. After the game Danny wouldn’t talk to either of them.

  ‘Great game,’ Jeff said. Danny was pulling off his cleats while Tracy massaged his back. ‘You really pitched a good one.’

  ‘How do you know? You weren’t watching.’

  Then the van wouldn’t start, and he kicked it in the tyre. The battery was dead, and they had to push. That is, Jeff and Tracy pushed while Danny sat in the driver’s seat and gave the orders. ‘Push! Push, you slobs. Harder!’ Tracy kicked off her high-heeled sandals. They pushed the van all the way up to the road. And then off Danny went.

  ‘There he goes,’ Jeff said. The sweat was running down his cheeks. He sank down next to Tracy.

  ‘Look at my nails,’ she said. ‘That Danny, he’s so damn jealous. No sense of humour.’

  But when Danny came back for them, he was smiling. ‘You two sure are in lousy shape,’ he said.

  8

  Sunday was hot and overcast. It was barbecue day in the neighbourhood. A pall of charcoal lighter and steak fumes hung in the air. The Orloffs, too, were out in back on their terrace. Barbecued steak was his father’s speciality. Everyone was talking about meat. ‘How do you want your steak, Donna?’

  ‘Make hers medium,’ Jeff’s brother said, ‘and mine rare.’

  ‘Jeff, how do you want your meat?’

  ‘No meat.’ Jeff closed his eyes and tried not to breathe the grease in the air. He thought about Mary, got a little heat in his stomach. Cut! He wasn’t interested. She wasn’t interested. Think about what you’re going to do. Assume Hollywood. When do you go? How do you get there? Who’s going to hire you? Cut! That was his father’s line.

  He rolled over in the grass and lay with his mouth on his arm. Sniffed his arm. Paint, kerosene, grass. He bit himself. Salty. He kissed his arm, imagining that it was her arm.

  Was he in love? Something stupid like that. Maybe he was a little bit obsessed. A little obsessed? Was there such a thing as a mild obsession? Not for him. Always obsessed – that was the story of his life.

  ‘Is he still flaked out?’ he heard his brother say. ‘Hey, Jeffo, wake up.’ His brother squatted down next to him. ‘You still asleep?’

  Something seared Jeff’s skin – hot coals or a branding iron. His playful brother had just branded him with an icy can of beer on his bare back. He sprang up. ‘I can see why your patients get cured, Dr. Orloff. They’re just glad to get away from you.’

  Jules was a psychologist at Henninger Institute. Dr. Orloff. Balding and overweight, he looked like an Indian Buddha. ‘That was a dirty trick, wasn’t it?’ he said cheerfully, putting his arm around Jeff. ‘I thought of giving you a hotfoot, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it on your bare feet.’

  ‘You’re all heart.’ Jeff sat down next to Donna. ‘Donna, do you see what kind of man you married? A sadist.’

  He liked his sister-in-law. She was tall and fair, a botanist who taught at Community College, the only quiet one in the family and the only one in the family as interested in movies as he was. ‘What did you think of the remake of Mutiny on the Bounty?’ Jeff said.

  ‘I thought it was exciting.’

  ‘A sincere effort. Did you like the scene in the lifeboat?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘I thought they were pushing my buttons.’

  He was just warming to the subject when the phone rang. ‘Get that, Jeff,’ his mother said.

  ‘I’m talking.’

  ‘It’s for you.’

  ‘How do you know that,’ he said as he headed for the phone. ‘Hello.’ It was his sister, Natalie.

  ‘Hey, Natalie! Natalie, my favourite sister.’

  ‘I finally got you, Jeff. You’re a hard man to get hold of. Mom says she never knows where you are half the time. I want to warn you,’ she said, ‘I’m going to talk about college. I promised Dad I’d pitch to you.’

  Did he really want to hear this? ‘Let’s change the subject, Natalie.’ When he thought about growing up, it was Natalie he remembered. She was the one who took care of him while his mother worked, the one he ran to when he hurt or needed help, or just had to talk to someone.

  ‘I haven’t said anything yet. What I was going to say is that college is a reasonable place for you to be at this time. Don’t say anything. I’m not through. It’s a good place to think. Learn. Grow. Find out about yourself. I don’t want to hassle you. But think about it. Next topic, are you coming to my wedding, or not?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He told his parents he’d fly down and back the same day. He’d even offered to pay. But his father had exploded. ‘Spend that money when the car’s right there!’ It was hard for him to say no to his sister, but even for her, he couldn’t see spending all that time in close quarters with his father. He’d either disagree with everything his father said or go into a funk and not talk the whole week.

  ‘Give me a straight answer, yes or no.’

  ‘First of all, I’d ruin things for Mom and Dad. That would make them so miserable they’d make me miserable and then I’ll be mean and miserable to everyone else and spoil your wedding. Besides, I’ve got a job. I’m saving money.’

  ‘For college?’

  ‘That’s the second time you’ve used that word.’

  ‘I can’t get you to change your mind?’

  ‘About college or coming to the wedding? Are you really going to be upset if I don’t come?’

  ‘We’ll survive. Listen, Jeff, actually the wedding isn’t that big a deal. We’ve been living together for almost three years now.’

  His future brother-in-law was a veterinarian with a successful suburban practice, a man of achievements and accomplishments. Men of achievement made Jeff bristle. Or was he just jealous?

  ‘Sure we can’t help you change your mind about the wedding?’

  ‘No way. I’d like to, but there’s a lot going on in my life.’ Again, like a shooting star, Mary’s name raced through his mind. What was she doing right this second? Had his name just flashed through her mind? Fat chance.

  Afterward, Jeff went outside again. ‘I left your steak on the coals,’ his father said. He had difficulty remembering that Jeff didn’t eat meat. Jeff sat down at the edge of the table next to Donna and picked up a celery stalk.

  ‘Did you talk to David?’ Donna said.

  ‘I hear you were accepted at three colleges,’ his brother said. ‘Which one is it going to be?’

  So, this was the highlight of the picnic. This was Get Jeff on the Right Track Day. First his sister. Now it was Jules’ and Donna’s turn. ‘I’m still thinking about it,’ he said.

  ‘You’re going to think yourself right out of school.’

  ‘Is that the official Orloff opinion?’

  ‘Are you feeling harassed?’ Jules said professionally.

  ‘You bet your doctor’s ass. What have you guys been doing, running a hotline down to Washington? What am I, the family entertainment?’

  ‘Why are you acting this way?’ his brother said.

  ‘Are you charging me for this, Doctor?’

  ‘You’re tense.’

  Jeff bared his teeth.

  ‘You’re raising your voice, you’re swearing.’

  ‘Goddammit, I’m not swearing.’

  His brother smiled. ‘We all went through this rebellious stage. It’s pretty routine. You think you can speed things up a little?’

  ‘Okay. Let’s speed things up. I’m leavin
g for California tomorrow morning. Nothing else to discuss. I’m not asking you guys for money.’ He made his points with the celery stalk. ‘I’ve been working. Saving my money. How will I get out there? Maybe I’ll hitchhike. No? Too much anxiety? I’ll take a bus. How will I live? Get a job. What kind of job? A menial job. Any other questions? I’ll be happy to answer. Dad, you want to know how many directors earn a living at it. Answer? Always room for one more. Ah, Mom, you want to know if they’re waiting for me with open arms. Answer? That stumps me.’

  ‘A-hah …’ his brother said.

  ‘A-hah, what?’

  His brother leaned on his elbow. ‘A-hah means go on.’

  ‘Is that what they taught you in adolescent psych?’

  ‘A-hah.’

  His mother took his hand. ‘Jeff. Slow down. I know you’re angry that we –’

  ‘Mom! Are you turning psychologist, too?’

  ‘Don’t you know everything costs double in California?’ his father said. He of the dashing moustache and worried face. He started giving Jeff the Economics Is Life argument. ‘Without money, you can’t get anywhere. And nobody gives it away.’

  Jeff slumped. Money! Money! Money! Money, savings accounts – that was his parents’ life. For them, money was like food. They stored it and it gave them a full, satisfied feeling. They had money in different banks and they stored money in the house, especially in the kitchen, in the teapot and in the freezer. Their happiest moments were when they were talking to each other about money.

  ‘You think that going to college and directing contradict each other?’ his father said.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, yes.’

  ‘You’re dreaming. I used to dream, too. And then I grew up. There’s a real world out there, and it isn’t what you dream it is. You don’t get what you want in this world. Nobody does. You have to get into the jammed elevators and smell the folks. You have to sit in a polluted factory when you’d rather be out fishing. But that’s life. That’s what ninety-nine and nine-tenths percent of the folks have to do.’

  Jeff felt his father’s words beating down on him. He looked at his hands. They were all looking down, and now nobody seemed to have anything to say. When his father came out with this stuff, it depressed everyone. It was the same defeated, crappy view of life he had always had. Had his father really ever dreamed? Jeff couldn’t believe it.

  9

  It was raining, a warm rain, when Jeff went over to the Belcos’. His hair was wet and his shirt, too. In the house, the lights were on. Mary was in the front hall, surrounded by boxes. ‘Moving in?’

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she said. She picked up a box and started up the stairs.

  ‘Want some help?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Hands in his pockets, jiggling change, Jeff wandered into the kitchen, then stepped out in the hall again when he heard Mary coming back down. ‘Glad to help. I’m not doing anything but hanging around.’

  She hesitated, looked at him closely, frowned at him. This was a big decision.

  ‘I don’t charge that much,’ he said.

  That got him a smile, at least the beginnings of one. But no purchase orders.

  ‘I can manage.’

  In the kitchen Danny was bent over, concentrating on the newspaper, lipreading, running his finger down the page. Mrs. Belco brushed Jeff aside. ‘Sit down or get out of the way. Danny, get your brother some milk.’

  Danny got the milk, then stood by the refrigerator reading the paper. His mother grabbed the container and poured Robert’s milk. ‘Sit down, Jeff, join the party. The menu today is hot tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.’

  ‘Mom, how many balls of twine does it take to get to the moon?’ Robert said.

  She dropped a grilled cheese sandwich in front of him. ‘I give up. Danny, put the paper down.’

  ‘The answer,’ Robert said, ‘is one ball of twine, but it’s real big.’

  ‘Danny! Are you going to eat your lunch? What time are you supposed to be in school?’

  ‘Mom, will you slow down.’

  ‘Slow down? Who’s going to let me? Maybe when I die.’

  Danny handed Jeff the folded sports section and pointed to the baseball results. ‘Look whose name is in the paper.’

  ‘Let me see, Jeff.’ Mrs. Belco bent over the paper. ‘You’re famous, my son.’

  ‘Yeah, Ma.’ Danny clasped his hands over his head.

  Mrs. Belco poured tea into a brown teapot, then put it on a tray with a sandwich. ‘You boys want anything else, you take care of yourselves. I’m taking this tray up to Mrs. Brown and then I’m taking my rest.’ She left. A moment later, there was a crash in the hall. ‘Danny,’ Mrs. Belco yelled. ‘Jeff! Help Mary get these boxes out of here before somebody kills themselves.’

  ‘Can’t,’ Danny yelled back. ‘I’m late already.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Jeff said, going out.

  Mary was on her way up with another box. Jeff grabbed a box and hurried after her. ‘What have you got in here, rocks?’ Silence. Not that he gave a damn. Charming Ms. Silver was breathing hard. He went up the stairs, whistling. Notice, I’m not even winded.

  In her room he looked around curiously. ‘Where do you want this?’

  She pointed to a wall.

  It was a small attic room with a sloping ceiling and two square recessed windows. Rain drummed on the roof. Tight little room – bed, two bureaus jammed together, a crib against one wall, a hi-fi on the floor, a pink tub full of baby toys, and the baby herself in a walker in the middle of the room.

  ‘Hello, baby,’ Jeff said.

  ‘Her name is Hannah.’

  ‘Cozy room you’ve got.’

  ‘It’s a mess.’

  ‘You should see mine. And I’ve been living in it for eighteen years.’

  She frowned at the room. Frowned. Frowned at him, frowned at everything. Hannah wheeled toward him. The kid was more interested in him than Mary was. ‘Thanks for the help,’ she said, dismissing him.

  ‘I’m not done yet. I’ve got my orders from General Belco.’ He went down again for another load. On the way up, she passed him going down. ‘We’ll get this done in no time,’ he said. He was cheerful, he was friendly, he was helpful. He was a jerk. She must think he was a Boy Scout working on his Good Neighbour badge.

  ‘You could work on your room while I bring up the rest of the stuff,’ he said.

  ‘Look, if I need advice I’ll ask for it.’

  ‘Oops, wrong door.’ He went flying down the stairs again, the sound of his feet covering up his chagrin. Keep your mouth shut, Orloff! He brought the remaining boxes up in silence.

  As he brought up the last box, he passed Mary standing outside Mrs. Belco’s room, talking to her through the door. ‘Is anybody going downtown later?’ he heard Mary say. The baby was in her arms. ‘Hannah has a doctor appointment and I don’t want to take her out in the rain.’

  ‘I can’t help you,’ Mrs. Belco said. ‘I’ve got to get some sleep. Maybe you ought to call a cab. Why didn’t you ask Danny when he was here?’

  Jeff stacked the last box. When he went downstairs, Mary was going through the phone book. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Everything’s upstairs.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Mary said. She hesitated. ‘Yeah … yes, thanks a lot.’ She stuck out her hand.

  ‘No problem.’ They were holding hands. Sort of. He was grateful. He was inordinately grateful. Grateful beyond reason. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you to the doctor’s.’

  ‘You? Do you have a car?’

  ‘Sure.’ He’d have to get the car from Danny.

  ‘I’ll pay you.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything about money. Just tell me what time.’

  She looked at her watch. ‘I have to leave in an hour.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’

  He ran from the Belco house to North High. Danny was in class already. It was a small class, maybe twelve kids. The teacher, Mr. Farah, was a friend of Jeff’s fr
om Drama Club days. He was reading to the class. Everyone was sprawled out, looking half asleep.

  Jeff greeted Mr. Farah. ‘Is it okay? I just want to talk to Danny for a minute.’

  Mr. Farah came to the door. He was nearly bald, and to compensate he let his hair grow long in back. ‘How are you doing, Jeff?’ Even after Jeff left Drama Club, they’d spent a lot of hours talking. ‘You setting the world on its ear?’

  ‘Washing dishes at Sadie’s Diner. Does that qualify? How about painting my family’s house?’

  ‘So you haven’t made up your mind about college yet? That’s okay. Just remember, whatever you do, I expect a lot from you.’ He motioned to Danny. ‘Five minutes.’

  When they were alone, Danny said, ‘What do you want? What’s the heat?’

  ‘The keys.’ Jeff put out his hand.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Just give me the keys, Belco.’ He started going through Danny’s pockets.

  Danny knocked his hands away. ‘What do you want them for?’

  ‘I’m giving Mary Silver a ride to the doctor’s.’

  Danny held him off. ‘Mary? Did she ask you?’

  ‘Sort of. Come on, hand them over.’

  A smile slowly spread across Danny’s broad face.

  ‘Don’t look so smug,’ Jeff said. ‘It’s not what you think.’

  10

  Driving Mary to the doctor, he talked and talked. The flood gates were open. Mary was sitting inches from him with the baby wired up in a chest harness. She looked like a parachutist getting ready to bail out over enemy territory. And that made his tongue flap twice as fast.

  ‘This is my first summer out of school,’ he said. ‘Post school, you might say, postmortem … In school we die and then …’ He gestured. ‘How do you like this town? You got away, but I’m still serving time. It’s so bad. There’s nothing in this town. Now that’s the one positive thing about it. It’s so bad, and it’s going to feel so good to get away. That’s how I’m going to remember this town. As my launchpad.’

  The launchpad image was an unfortunate one. Excessive. He was trying too hard. It made him sound pompous. ‘I’m like a frog in a mudhole. What I can’t decide is which way to jump. Hollywood or New York? They’re the only two places to go if you’re going to be a director. I’m leaning towards Hollywood at the moment. What do you think?’