by Harry Mazer
‘I am sorry, Your Honour.’ He was scared. This judge was a madman, a showman, and a Big Daddy all wrapped up in one black-robed package. He really worked Jeff over, gave him a long lecture about responsibility and death on the highway and disobeying public officers. It was very bad. Humiliating. Even unfair. Was it unfair? Jeff’s face burned, but he forced himself to keep looking at the judge. Take it, Orloff. You’ve got it coming to you.
Besides the lecture he got a stiff fine, a mark on his licence, and a final warning. ‘I don’t want you ever to show up in this court or any other court again.’
The truck had to be hauled home. And more explanations had to be made to his parents and Danny. The repair bills on the truck, the towing charges, and the fine took a big chunk of the money he’d been saving. He stayed on at Sadie’s for a couple of months to build up his bankroll again.
It was raining the day he said good-bye to Danny. A fall day, windy and wet, the leaves sticking to the road and the sides of cars. Good-byes were hard, but Jeff felt ridiculously good. For no reason, he was optimistic. Maybe going someplace else was enough right now. He’d already said goodbye to Sadie and to his brother Jules and his sister-in-law, and he’d called Natalie in Bethesda. He felt like a balloon about to be launched.
‘California, here I come.’
Danny looked up at the window of his apartment. ‘I wish I could get my hands on some of those California cars.’
Jeff felt a twinge of nostalgia for the days when the two of them had done things together. ‘Come on. We’ll drive out together and you can haul back a couple of cars.’
‘No way. With the baby coming –’ Danny shrugged.
‘Big married man.’ Jeff threw his arm around his friend. Danny had always been a step up on him in the maturity department but now Jeff felt on an equal footing, maybe even a little smug. He had never felt so free and unencumbered in his life. ‘I’ll send you some pictures of me and the starlets.’
His parents came to the bus station with him. His father rubbed the back of Jeff’s neck. ‘Remember, any time you need us, we’re right here.’ His mother kissed him and gave him a last hug. ‘Now you keep in touch. Don’t forget your family. And call home as soon as you get there.’
He was on the bus when he remembered that it had been in the back of his mind to call Mary before he left. Let her know where he was going, say good-bye, but keep it cool. It would be an end. A final shot. Freeze frame: Mary, getting the news, then putting the phone down slowly. Fade out. Maybe he’d call her on the road or maybe he wouldn’t even bother. He put his head back and shut his eyes. He was on this bus because of Mary and he was going to California because of her. Well, she was on Oak Street because of him. They were even. And no more good-byes were necessary. Thinking that, he felt both good and sad.
32
Dear Jeff,
Today is two months that I’ve been here. I’ve thought of writing you before, but it seems like this is the first quiet moment I’ve had. I’m upstairs in my attic room. Yes, in an attic again. I’ve covered the beams with Indian cloths. I’ve turned it into a tent, a cave, really. This is my place – the place Hannah and I go to be alone. It’s wonderful to have people around me, but I also need that time to myself.
Let me tell you about this place. All through the house there’s a wonderful smell of wood fire. It’s cosy now up here, but I think I’ll need an electric heater this winter. There’s a tree outside my window, it’s bare now. I’ve watched it turn from green to red to yellow. This is a big house, a lot of wood moulding and corridors and nooks. It needs painting and some of the porches are sagging, we’re supposed to work on it, but Marsha’s the only one who sticks with it. In back, the carriage house is big as a barn. We’re building a theatre there – long-range plans. Eventually, we want to put on productions for the community.
It’s hard to believe where I was at the beginning of the summer and where I am now. So much has happened to me in the last two years. Too much. Sometimes I feel like I’m racing, as if everything is moving too fast. Looking back, sometimes these years seem to stretch forever, and then I get the opposite feeling – that I’m going through life like a rocket. Where am I going to be in a year? Here, I hope.
I love this place. I almost feel guilty saying it. I want to knock on wood. Can it last? Hannah is thriving. She has other children to play with. The big ones watch the little ones. You wouldn’t recognize her. You saw her walking, but she’s running now. And talk? I can’t shut her up.
Jeff, when I think how I almost didn’t meet Marsha and Tom and Patti and everyone, how I almost didn’t get here … I scare myself thinking, What if … What if I hadn’t gone to the workshop? Do you remember how it happened? I saw that notice for the movie director for you and then you saw the workshop notice for me. What if you hadn’t seen it? What if we hadn’t wandered into that building? What if it hadn’t been so hot? What if we hadn’t gone to the park? It’s scary to think how life turns on accidents, how we stumble into things. When I look back, when I think back about my life since I went away from home, nothing happened the way I thought it would. Nothing happened the way I would have expected. Nothing.
How strange everything is! Here I am – and where did it begin? I don’t mean Hannah, though that’s another mystery. I mean me here. Did it begin that day in Mrs. Belco’s kitchen? I hardly remember it. I hardly remember you. But there you were when I had the toothache and needed that ride. And what if I hadn’t had a toothache? My lucky toothache! You were right about me, Jeff. I’ve always wanted to be an actress, but when you met me I’d given it all up. And if I hadn’t met you I would still be where I was.
And what about you? I tell myself you’re busy, doing important things. Where are you? Still home? California? Someplace else? I feel you’re very far away. Am I right? I don’t mean only in space, though that, too. I mean in friendship. No calls. No letters. Are you okay? Are you busy? Are you famous? Are you romancing another girl? Are you angry? Days when I don’t feel good, I think, Jeff is mad at me. And I don’t like that. I don’t want you mad at me.
I have a lot of feeling about you. We’re friends. I know that makes you mad and I’ve been tempted to make it more than friends. It would have been easy. I was tempted, and sometimes when I’m feeling lonely and things aren’t going well here, I begin to think about Sir Walter Teddybear. But we needed to go our own ways.
I want to hear about you. I miss not having you around to talk to. We had good times together. There’s nobody else I miss from that time.
I guess this is a thank-you-Jeff letter. And a don’t-forget-me-Jeff letter. And a let’s-be-in-touch letter. Write to me. Tell me what you’re doing. Come in Jeff, wherever you are.
Love, Mary.
SENTINEL SECURITY SERVICES
2306 Artesia Blvd
Los Angeles, CA, 80076
‘Protecting People and Industry Since 1946’
Dear Mary,
If you’ve bothered to look at the letterhead you’ll see that yes, I’m in California, but no, I’m not in security, though I may be soon. I’ve put in my application to become a security guard. I’m getting very close to the movies. Not the way you would think, but I’ll come to that.
Did you know Danny and Tracy got married? Guess who was the best man? I had a few troubles after their wedding. I wasted myself not sleeping. Then I wrecked Danny’s truck and spent a night in jail. A long story which I may or may not tell you some time. I hit bottom or what felt like bottom to me. All I know is that it’s been uphill since then.
When I got out here I went to all the movie lots and offered myself as a director and screenwriter. Nobody seemed to know who I was and I was getting a little annoyed with these California airheads. Two weeks and I was broke and sleeping in the bushes next to the Freeway. My sister came to the rescue. It was too humiliating to call home after my National Liberation Struggle. While I was waiting for Natalie to send her contribution to the Jeff Orloff Fund, I camped out on the
sand. You can’t believe how many directors and actors are out here sleeping on the beaches and waiting to be famous.
I finally got on the lots – movie lots, to the uninitiated. Need I add, not as a director. Nor as a screenwriter. Nor as the newest Wonder Kid. I’ve started my career more modestly. Kitchen worker. This is one of those classic From the Bottom Up Stories, and I’m working my way up rapidly. Already I’m out of the kitchen and on the serving line in the studio cafeteria.
There are so many people involved in making a movie, not just the actors, the cameraman, or the director. There are people putting up the sets, handling the lights, the electricians, the grips, the costume and makeup people. They all come in here. Everyone has to eat, so being on the serving line turns out to be a very influential position. These people are hungry! They depend on me to feed them. And they’re grateful for even an extra shot of gravy.
Take Paul Garcia, who’s in security. When he comes through the line wearing his grey uniform, leather belt, and holster, I load his plate up good. He takes an instant liking to me, especially on Wednesdays when we serve Swedish meatballs. To show his appreciation, he puts me on to being a security guard. He tells me, ‘Put in your application, what have you got to lose? In a few months, you’ll be in.’ Security guards are the real power behind the scenes. Nobody comes on the lot without passing security. Film crews, actors, stars, even the director has to show his ID. Nobody fools with security.
After security? The next step? Who knows? Maybe I’ll move on up to be an assistant to the assistant’s assistant. Otherwise known as a gofer. Mysterious are the ways to our famous futures.
I’m going to school two nights a week. Would you believe, acting? I figure if I’m going to be a director, I’ve got to know something about every job connected to making movies. So don’t be surprised if you’re sitting in the movies someday and there’s Jeff Orloff as part of the posse. And you’re going to say, I knew that lad when …
You sound good. And so does that little dirtybird, Hannah. Now there’s a star. I think about her all the time. Every day when I’m on that serving line and I give someone a hit of squash or mashed potatoes, I think of her. She still packing it in with ten fingers? What a ball she’d have on this serving line. I miss her. You too. A lot more than I’m going to talk about. I’m glad you wrote me, because I wasn’t going to write you. When your letter came I was scared, wasn’t going to open it. I was afraid it was a cry for help. What if you’d said, I need you, Jeff? I don’t know what I would have done.
I think about us, sometimes. I feel like I was really young then. I tried to make everything so simple, tried to pretend we were just a boy and a girl. No connections. No Hannah, no families, just us and our dreams and desires, or should I say, Just me and my dreams and my desires. I wanted Mary. All I wanted was Mary. No, that’s not true. I always wanted more.
What I’m trying to say is, right now I’m glad I’m in California and you’re in Massachusetts. You’re on the Atlantic and I’m on the Pacific and we’re both doing what we want to do. Getting closer to what we want.
But we’re going to meet again. One of these months or years, the east will meet the west. What a reunion it will be. We’re going to have so much to say to each other, so much to tell. And maybe we’ll be able to help each other again. Now that would be neat. Not that you’re going to need a lot of help. You’ve got the talent. I always knew that about you, Mary Silver.
Let’s stay in touch.
Jeff
P.S. to Hannah. Remember me? I’m the man in your life. I’m coming back to see you someday, so shape up, kid. The next time around, you better be housebroken and no more mumbojumbo talk. We’re going to have an intelligent conversation about life and the stars and the state of the world. So study up and don’t forget me, Hannah, ’cause I love you.
About the Author
Harry Mazer is the author of twenty-two novels for children and young adults. Best known for his acclaimed realistic teen fiction, Mazer has been recognized with the New York Library Association’s Knickerbocker Award for Juvenile Literature and the ALAN Award for contributions to young adult literature, as well as several best-book designations from the American Library Association, among other honors.
After graduating from the Bronx High School of Science, Mazer joined the US Army Air Force, serving in World War II from 1943 to 1945 as a sergeant. He received a Purple Heart and an Air Medal after his B-17 bomber was shot down in 1945. Mazer’s wartime experiences later inspired several of his novels, including the Boy at War series.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1984 by Harry Mazer
Cover design by Heidi North
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0998-0
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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