Call Me Amy
Page 9
REPORT CARD DAY was the day before the last day of school. Our teacher, Mrs. Marston, passed them out in the usual way, alphabetically. I peeked at my good grades and then turned it upside down and waited for Craig to get his. I crossed my fingers that he would at least get promoted.
As Mrs. Marston moved towards him, Craig’s leg started bouncing more than usual. He glanced out the window, looking cool as ever, but now I knew better. Knew he was worrying as much as me. Mrs. Marston stopped at his desk and broke into a rare smile. Craig glanced at the report, his eyes wide, then he leaped up onto his desk chair, raised the report high overhead, and shouted.
“Yahoo, I did it!”
Never one for disorder, Mrs. Marston’s smile faded faster than the island in fog, but Craig was already jumping down and heading towards me. “Look at that,” he said pointing out the C+ in English.
“Nice job,” I said, as he moved on towards the open window.
“I did it!” he shouted again to the outside world. Luckily, the dismissal bell rang before Mrs. Marston could send him to the office to spend his last minutes of the school year confessing to the principal. I’m sure she was thrilled Craig was moving on to another teacher.
THAT EVENING, I was washing the dishes after supper when the phone rang. Two long rings and one short—our signal on the party line. Nancy ran to answer since it was always for her. I turned off the water and heard her say, “Amy?” Two seconds later she burst into the kitchen.
“Amy, phone,” she announced and then added in an amazed whisper, “It’s a boy!” From the look on her face, you’d think I had just won a million dollars. I yanked off my yellow rubber dishwashing gloves, figuring there was some mistake, like a wrong number.
“Hello.”
“Amy? Craig. I’m at Miss C’s.” I felt my face get hot as I glanced up to see Nancy still hanging around the doorway. I waved my hand at her to get lost, so I could concentrate. Nancy rolled her eyes as she backed around the corner, all but one foot anyway.
“She fell,” continued Craig.
My mouth opened, yet no words came out, only unwelcome images as I waited for his next words.
“She’s okay, but I need help getting her up.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up the phone and bolted out the front door, leaving Nancy standing with her mouth hanging open.
“What about the dishes?” she yelled after me. “I’m telling Mum!”
17
MINUTES LATER I pushed through Miss Cogshell’s backdoor. She was sprawled the length of the kitchen. Craig, pale beside her.
“She won’t let me call an ambulance,” he said.
“I’m fine,” said Miss Cogshell, panting. “I’ve gotten these little spells before, just need help getting up.”
“But how did you fall?” I asked. A shiver raced through me. My teeth chattered and I grabbed the table edge for support. There was something scary about seeing a grownup so helpless.
“I was reaching for my pen on the floor and the next thing I knew I was down here. If my arm wasn’t feeling so useless, I’d probably have popped right up long ago.”
Craig and I exchanged glances as I took one side of her and he took the other. We slowly heaved her up onto a chair. Miss Cogshell’s cheeks went pale with the exertion and her breathing sped up.
“There . . . the old coot’s okay now.” She paused for a few breaths. “I don’t know what I would do without you two.”
I glanced at Craig and wondered how he had happened to be here. His report card was lying on the kitchen table next to a messy pile of S & H green stamps.
“Can I make you some tea, Miss Cogshell?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just rest.”
“You’ve done so much for us. I can at least make you tea.” I filled the flowered teapot with water. The early evening sun bounced off the curio cabinet and I studied the small animals while the water heated up. So much had happened since I first discovered the porcelain moose.
After placing Miss Cogshell’s teacup on the table, I looked over at Craig, who was quiet for once.
“I think she’s asleep,” he said.
I watched Miss Cogshell for a minute. She seemed comfortable in the high-backed chair. Her breathing was even, and her face with its color returned, seemed almost beautiful in the dim light.
I glanced back at Craig and found him watching her, too. “Thanks for calling me,” I said softly. It felt odd to be the smallest kid in my grade lifting the largest woman in the Port.
Craig seemed to read my mind. “You’re not exactly Hercules, but who else am I gonna call?” He laughed too loud at his own joke. We glanced at Miss Cogshell again. She slept on, and I was cheered by her recovery.
“I hope my report card wasn’t too much of a shock,” he added.
I grinned. I drew my fingernail along the blue checks of the tablecloth, feeling shy and wishing Pup was around for us to talk about.
Miss Cogshell began to murmur. Her face went pale as I watched, almost gray now, and her words came out slurred. What a difference from just a few minutes ago. She didn’t look like her old self now. I moved over to her.
“Are you okay, Miss Cogshell?”
Her eyes opened and fluttered a bit. It took her a moment to focus on us. “These spells are nothing new… but… if anything should happen,” she began.
I got a sick feeling in me waiting for her to finish. Already I was shaking my head, to tell her everything would be all right.
Miss Cogshell continued, “Make sure . . . ” she took a few deep breaths, “you develop the pictures.” It was hard to make out what she said as she pointed at her camera lying on the table.
“You’ll be okay, Miss C.,” Craig insisted.
“Let me call your doctor,” I urged. She shook her head no. I took Clyde from his resting place by the door and placed him on the table within easy reach. “Or maybe you could stay with a friend?”
I waited for her answer. A plump robin flew past the open kitchen window and landed on the lilac bush. Its sweet fragrance reached me. As if in greeting, the cuckoo clock called out seven times.
Miss Cogshell shook her head again, regaining a little strength, but still speaking slow. “Been in this house eighty years… won’t be leaving ’til they have to carry me out. Just need to rest now.” She waved her hand and made a feeble attempt at shooing us away.
Craig pocketed his report card and we both squeezed through the door, peering back at her.
“Should we get help anyway?” said Craig.
I nodded. “Let’s tell my mom.” We broke into a run at the bottom of the hill and arrived at my house, gasping.
“I’ll wait here,” Craig said as I shoved open the front door. I flew into the house and found my mother dusting in the living room. I blurted out all that had happened since the phone call.
“I don’t like the sound of it.” My mother put her feather duster aside. “It can’t be too healthy to carry all that extra weight around for so many years. I’ll call up Mary. She can meet me over there. Mary’s had some medical training, and she and Howard go to Miss Cogshell’s church. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll call the doctor myself. Sometimes you have to ignore stubborn people and do what’s best for them.”
“She’ll be okay though, won’t she?” I asked, as I watched my mother flip through her phonebook. She gave a helpless shrug and started dialing the phone number.
A few minutes later, the three of us were hurrying towards Miss Cogshell’s. I glanced back at our house and saw Nancy’s silhouette withdraw from her upstairs window. We stumbled down the hill in silence. Mary’s car was already pulling onto the side of the yard when we arrived.
Just before going in, my mother turned to us. “You can go home, kids. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” We both nodded.
“Well, see you,” I said, turning to Craig.
“Yeah, see ya.” He continued to stand there.
“Aren’t you leaving?” I
asked.
Craig shrugged. “Aren’t you?”
Neither of us made a move. We stood outside Miss Cogshell’s door, about ten feet apart, watching the moon coming up low over the ocean. All was quiet except for the distant creaking of boat lines. Gentle waves slapped the pier posts and the scent of pine filled the air.
I still couldn’t get my teeth to stop chattering and the cool evening breezes didn’t help. I rubbed my arms, feeling so alone, when suddenly I felt a weight fall across my shoulders. The army jacket. I glanced at Craig, narrower in his tee shirt than I’d seen him in a long time. Shyness overwhelmed me, but Craig didn’t seem to have any trouble finding a subject.
“Hey, Shrimp, I didn’t see you at the Twist Twirl,” he said easily. I started to cringe at the nickname. I looked at Craig and saw no hostility, just friendship. Then I realized what the rest of his words meant. I looked down fast as I felt my stomach sink. I should have known.
“Did you go with Pamela?” I whispered.
“I did. I waited to give her an answer for a couple of weeks. Then I figured since no one else asked me, why not.” Craig gave his usual big grin. “Wanna know the truth?” he added. “I’d heard the band did a wicked version of “Layla,” so I had to check it out.”
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Was he telling me this for a reason? Or was it just my crazy imagination again? I pictured flashy Pamela and pimply Shrimp standing beside each other. “Was it good?”
“Yeh, they didn’t butcher my favorite guitar piece too much.”
Miss Cogshell’s door opened, and Mom came out.
“You kids should have gone home long ago,” she said, as I quickly slipped out of Craig’s jacket and tossed it to him. “Miss Cogshell seems fine now. I guess she’s had this problem before. She says she’s got a few more years in her, and Mary’s going to stay with her tonight.”
My mother and I said bye to Craig, and he went off in the other direction, while we turned towards our hill.
“So what did you think of her house?” I asked, glad to have shared my special place.
“Didn’t really notice too much except that it does need a good cleaning.”
“Oh, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “You’ll never change.”
LATER THAT NIGHT, the wind picked up and the shadow of the old pine tree swaying on my window shade drove me crazy. Maybe tonight would be the night it would come crashing through. And worse, what if Miss Cogshell wasn’t back to her cheery self, come morning? I just lost Pup. No way could I lose Miss Cogshell, too. I watched and worried, flipping my pillow over and over in search of a cool place to rest my head.
18
WHEN I PASSED by Miss Cogshell’s house the next morning on the school bus, everything seemed as usual. My mother had talked with Mary and apparently all was well.
Before the first bell rang, Craig and I were at our lockers when Pamela and Claire came stumbling along on their platform shoes. I had planned on saying hi to Craig before they came. As I closed my locker I realized how ridiculous I was. Why shouldn’t I say hi to my friend, no matter who was around? This was the last day of school; it was now or never. I straightened, turned, and started past them, then forced my head around and said “Hi, Craig.”
“Hi, Shrimp,” he answered.
Pamela and Claire stared at me. Then Pamela said, “Hi, Shrimp,” mocking Craig’s words.
I ignored her and focused on my task. “You know, Craig.” I paused and took a breath. “I really don’t like that name.” I almost didn’t recognize my strong, clear voice.
Craig lifted one eyebrow. Then he snapped his fingers a few times like he was trying to place me. Finally he pointed and said, “You will be Amy from now on.” He smiled that great grin of his, followed by a mock salute in my direction.
What a goof. I had to smile.
As I walked away I heard Pamela and Claire exchange whispers and giggles, but I had a super sure feeling inside me that I would never hear the name Shrimp again.
SO THE DAY had started well, but sometimes things change quicker than a storm at sea. Riding home on the bus that afternoon, an ambulance passed us, lights flashing. It pulled into Miss Cogshell’s yard. The bus was silent for once as we watched the ambulance workers rush in.
Craig got off at his usual stop and I saw him sprint down the lane to Miss Cogshell’s. I jumped off at the next stop and ran back to stand beside him. I doubted there was anything either of us could do, but I wanted to be there.
Finally her back door swung open. They lugged Miss Cogshell on a stretcher past her beloved lilac bush, finally in full bloom. An oxygen mask hid her face. Her white hair, still so full of life, swung down in long strands on either side of her. A sheet almost covered the mask. What were they thinking?
“Get that off!” I tried to shout, but only air escaped my gasping breath. I wanted to storm over and pull the sheet off, so she could breathe.
Craig must have read my mind. With a firm hold, he grabbed my arm. “I think we lost her,” he said.
I shook my head no, back and forth. I felt Craig’s grip release as they lifted her into the ambulance. Mary climbed in after them. Through blurry eyes I watched them speed up the road. I stood still while what just happened processed in my mind. When I looked back at the little gray house, I realized Craig had disappeared as fast as the ambulance.
It took me forever to climb our hill that day. I spent the night curled up on my window seat. I clutched the little porcelain moose for luck, and prayed my heart out for good news. Maybe there had been a mistake. Maybe Miss Cogshell was chuckling right now about the joke she had played.
My mom came in with a cup of cocoa. “You okay?” she asked. I nodded, unable to trust my voice. The cocoa went cold long after she left the room. I continued to stare out into the darkness. My weepy eyes turned the night sky into shooting stars.
THREE DAYS LATER I sat with my mother at Miss Cogshell’s funeral, held in her tiny church. After the series of small strokes, the most special old woman in my world had encountered a massive one—one she could not survive.
I was a wreck in my scratchy blue dress, waiting for the service to start. I whispered to my mother, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Why, you don’t have to do anything.” She patted my hand as the minister took his place at the front of the church. I peeked behind me one last time at the half-empty pews and spotted Craig’s blond head coming in through the big arched doors. I didn’t dare look at his face. I figured he’d sit at the back alone, but next thing I knew, I was shoving in to make room for him. I noticed the usual fresh grass scent of his jacket, mixed with a soapy smell.
Howard and Mary were there. Mary was one of several who stood up and spoke about Miss Cogshell. It made me wish I had known her even better.
“A lot of people in town had a problem with the books she used to assign to her students,” said Mary, “but I’ll tell you, that woman put the love of reading in us, well at least in me.” She glanced at her husband with a warm smile.
“Howard used to sit behind me in her class and pull my braids. It was Miss Cogshell who gave me permission to turn around and sock him one if he ever did it again, but he never did.” There was a trickle of chuckles and her husband’s face turned crimson.
Craig and I exchanged looks. His hair was actually smoothed back like he had dragged a wet comb through it. The corner of his mouth twitched. I think we both remembered Howard’s red face on the day we let Pup go.
“Anyone else?” asked the minister.
Craig’s leg started bouncing beside me and a minute later he was standing at the front of the church in that old army jacket.
“I don’t, I mean . . . I’m not used to churches, but I just want to thank Miss C. for all she’s done.”
Craig glanced at Howard and then with a who-cares shrug, he started in on the story of finding a helpless little orphan seal pup. He told it well, right down to the last farewell splash. The first time he mentioned my name, he nodded at me
and everyone turned to stare. My mother raised her eyebrows at me and then took my hand as I slid further down in the pew.
“So that’s the whole story,” he said with a laugh, glancing again at Howard, who shook his head in dismay. Then Craig looked around at the flowers, and the solemnness of the occasion seemed to hit him.
“She also helped me with personal things, and I’m gonna miss . . . ” Craig’s face crumpled.
A few coughs and sniffles sounded from the small congregation. I squeezed my eyes shut. The church became so silent I thought I could hear the beating of my heart, but it was Craig’s sneakers pounding up the aisle, out the door.
For me, a gray cloud settled in the church despite the sunlight still pouring through the stained-glass windows. The organist accompanied a small choir, who sang:
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.
I felt a big lump form in my throat and I wanted to cry, but I didn’t let myself because I knew if I did, I might never stop. If I cried, I might be admitting Miss Cogshell was really gone and that I’d never see her again.
The hymns ended with a long Amen that seemed to go on forever, before the organ went silent. After the service, people said how nice it had been, how the flowers were beautiful, how lovely the casket was, and other stupid things.
I raced home, changed into my jeans, and then wandered down to the dock to clear my head.
Moist salt air rose from sun-splashed waves. I sat at the end of the pier, as usual, and kicked my feet. The ocean spread out before me and I thought about how it was always here waiting and always would be. Seagulls were still flying, fish still swimming. Just like when I was small. Just like they would be if I sat here again in fifty years. And in a hundred years, all new people, but still that old ocean would be slapping the shore.