by Marc Simon
In his possession was a tattered, half-century-old copy of The American Phrenological Journal, and although he wasn’t much for reading, he’d carefully studied the cover illustration that divided the human brain/skull into approximately 35–45 distinct sectors. There were specific cranial locations designated for everything from self-esteem to sublimicity.
Delia was having a cup of tea on the first floor with Malkin’s second cousin Masha while the doctor examined Alex’s head. Alex didn’t mind Malkin’s probing fingers, and his head felt better when he pressed lightly in certain places.
Every so often, Malkin paused to consult the journal to orient his fingers on Alex’s skull. With his eyes closed, he felt Alex’s imperfections, as if by touching them he could divine the truth about some condition of his brain. He worked his way to the left temple. “Aha, I think I have detected the center for se-cre-tive-ness. What secret are you holding, my boy?” He took a cloth measuring tape and wound it around across Alex’s forehead.
The circumference was in the normal range for a one and one half year old boy. However, neither Malkin’s measurements nor his cursory understanding of phrenology could tell him was this: that while Alex’s skull size was normal, his brain was close to the size of an adult’s, 25% larger than the space allowed for, and growing, albeit imperceptively, bigger by the day.
Malkin wrote down his measurements in his file entitled, “Little Miller.” He had documentation on Alex’s height, wingspan, arm length and inseam, and now added this latest measurement. All he needed was a quick look at his genitalia, just to see what proportions they were in relationship to his overall size. The opportunity had eluded him at The Wheel. Here was a second chance, and with no rough men around. “Now, little Alex, if you will, please remove them for me your pants so that I may conclude the examination, and then you will be on your way.”
“No.”
“No? But I am your doctor. You must do it what the doctor has said. This is required.” When Malkin reached for him, he screamed for Delia.
“Quiet, my boy, you shall wake them up the dead.”
Delia pounded up the stairs. Malkin and Alex had reached a standoff. “What the hell is going on here?”
Malkin stepped back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. The boy is most uncooperative, but I think he is ready to go now, he was merely calling it out to you to take him.”
“What about his head?”
“Yes, I have conducted it the thorough examination, and now as you are leaving, I will give it to him a teaspoon, a child’s dose, so to speak, of my special medicine for a children’s headache, which may be due to a slight temporary swelling of the brain, such as when a person has it a hangover, which of course could not be the case here. I am sure it will bring it relief from the pain.” He uncorked a bottle of his tonic, the same tonic he sold weekly to Davy O’Brien. “Here, take it one spoonful.”
Alex made a sour face as the burn traveled down his throat and into his stomach. Within a few minutes, the pain in his head had subsided, thanks to the palliative effect of the alcohol.
Malkin put the bottle in a brown paper bag and handed it to Delia. “Have the boy take it for the pain. That will be seventy-five cents. Please.”
Alex took Delia’s hand and ten minutes later he was asleep on the trolley, his head on her lap. Forty-five minutes later, as they walked up Mellon Street toward his house, he asked her for another teaspoon.
Chapter 25
Dear Dee,
I can’t tell you how excited I was when I got your letter that you wrote back to me. Just seeing your handwriting on the paper brought back so many good memories, and to think we’re soon gonna see each other, I get goose bumps.
I gotta say, this little knife thrower of yours, from the way you described it, he sounds almost too good to be true. In the circus they’re always looking for the unusual, something that will grab people—how do you think I got my job? Your kid sounds like a natural for the sideshow, if not the big top.
Anyways, I talked you up good to Mr. Markham, the talent man what books the new acts, and it’s all set. I explained to him real good yesterday about the knife-throwing midget of yours, but he kept hemming and hawing, so I had to give him what shall I call it, a special favor. Markham is a real pig, what can I say, but you gotta do what you gotta to help out an old friend, right? Plus now he owes me because of what we done, which was definitely against circus rules, Rule 24 in the handbook, do not take strangers or friends into dressing rooms without permission, although I guess I did give him permission, and he ain’t no stranger and he ain’t no friend.
I didn’t talk money with him because I know he won’t talk money until he sees the boy throw. Like I told you, I pull down $70 a week, so the dough’s plenty good, plus they give you room and board and the food ain’t half bad, either, so you can save there, too.
Anyways, here’s how we’ll play it. You meet me at the main ticket booth around four o’clock. If for some reason I ain’t there, just tell them you’re here to see me and Mr. Markham. I’ll leave word so you’ll be all set and they’ll give you directions to Markham’s wagon. Markham will have knives like the kind the knife-thrower throws—won’t he be fit to be tied when your little Alex shows up! Me, too!
We got darts, too, in case the kid wants to toss a few, so you don’t need to bring nothing, just show up with him is all. Geez Oh Man, Dee, a knife-throwing midget, it could be a hit! If Markham takes the kid on we’ll be together, just like the old days! Can’t wait to see you.
Love you to death,
Lotte, the Elastic Lass (hokey, I know it!)
PS
That fellow I was living with, Mojo the Sword Swallower? The lousy mug took off with a gypsy tightrope walker when we had a layover in Toledo on account of a tornado two weeks ago. Men—you can’t trust them!
PSPS
We’re here just two days over Labor Day, Dee. Don’t miss it! Can’t wait to see you
Chapter 26
Normally, Alex was awake and running around the house before Abe and Benjamin got out of bed, but on the Monday following his day at the zoo, Abe had to call him three times to get out of bed. He remained lethargic during the trolley ride to Hannah’s house, and Abe grew concerned that the boy was coming down with something; he’d been complaining off and on that his head hurt him, so, he needed to find him a good doctor, not that bastard Malkin. Maybe Hannah or the aunts could help him out, he didn’t care how much it cost, what the hell was money for, anyway.
After Alex went inside, Abe explained the problem to Hannah. She grasped his hands. “Of course, we’ll help, we know very good doctors, children’s specialists. My parents know everyone.”
“Your parents?”
Hannah blushed. “Oh, I meant, before they died they knew everyone, the best Jewish doctors. Just leave it to us and don’t you worry, all right? Here’s your lunch.” She handed a brown bag to him. Her hand lingered on his. “Yesterday was delightful, Abe.”
He shuffled his feet. “Yeah. Well, thanks about that doctor—listen I don’t care what it costs, all right? I gotta go.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked away.
Later that morning, as Hannah and her aunts were having a talk “just for the grown-ups,” Alex drifted up to the second floor. He went into Hannah’s room, crawled under the bed and found the adoption document exactly where he’d left it. Listening for Hannah’s footsteps, he read the story again, and this time he understood what had happened to MALE CHILD. He wondered why Hannah would make MALE CHILD an adoption, it didn’t make sense, even when he thought about what Delia had told him. There was only one way to figure it all out. He needed to show his father and Benjamin the paper, and Delia, too, so they would see he wasn’t just making it up. He folded it in quarters and put it in his pants.
He crept to the landing. He could hear Hannah say they really needed to ask her father about a specialist for Alex, didn’t they understand, the boy was in pain, he needed the best doctors in the city, that wa
s the most important thing in the world, and then Lillie said that of course she was concerned about Alex, but what about Abe and his drinking, and Morris would be very upset, and then Hannah said how dare you bring that up at a time like this?
Alex couldn’t understand the rest because the three of them were yelling at the same time.
Morris. Alex remembered the name Morris from the paper that said Blood Money! Then he heard Hannah scream that she could care less that he was her father, he hates me, he doesn’t own me, and Lillie told her that wasn’t true, and to calm down.
Father. But Daddy had told him that Hannah’s mother and father died from The Dip, just like his mommy. His head began to hurt again. He went halfway down the stairs. Lillie and Belle were at the front door, with their purses over their shoulders. Alex called out to them. “Where are you going?”
Lillie turned around. Her face was red. “Oh hello, Alex.”
Alex said, “Why were you yelling?”
“Oh, it was nothing.” She turned to her sister. “Belle?”
“We just, we couldn’t decide where to go out to lunch.”
“Can I go, too?”
“Oh, not today, dear, today it’s only for grown-ups.”
“But we’ll bring you a treat,” Belle said, “since you’re such a good boy.”
Hannah came up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “He’s a very good boy. The best. So anyway, have a grand lunch, ladies.”
After they left, she told him they’d have their own luncheon, a special one, that he could have anything he wanted, a hot dog, a baloney sandwich, pancakes, “or how about an egg in the hole?”
“Egg in the hole.”
“Coming up.” Hannah squeezed his shoulders again, harder this time.
“Ow.”
“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
She smiled as she apologized, but there was something in the tone of her voice and something about her smile that made Alex think she wasn’t sorry at all. He rubbed his shoulder.
Hannah hummed as she fried his egg. She put a glass of chocolate milk on the table. She tried to tuck a napkin on him, but Alex said, “I can do it.”
“All right, Mr. big shot.”
As he ate, Hannah sat across from him and nibbled at the corners of saltine crackers until they were round. She dabbed up the crumbs with her index finger.
Alex watched her stack the rounded crackers. “Why do you do that?”
“What? Oh, it’s nothing, just a game I used to do when I was a little girl. So what would you like to do this afternoon, after your special dessert?”
What he really wanted to do was go home and play with Benjamin, but Benjamin was at work, he had a summer job at the grocery story, delivering packages for Mr. Plotkin, and Daddy was at the shop. He looked at the dog, sleeping in the corner. “Play chase ball with Pudgy.”
“Oh, but Pudgy is tired.” She munched another cracker. “Alex, do you know the expression, ‘let sleeping dogs lie?’”
Alex shook his head.
“It means it’s better not to look for trouble. If you know what I mean. I wonder if you do.”
What Alex did know was that, from the way she said it, she was trying to get at something that involved him, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
She cleared his place and started to pace back and forth, staring at the floor. Every so often she’d look up at him. “Alex, do you know the Ten Commandments?”
“Grandma Murphy taught me them. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not steal.”
Hannah clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s it. You’re so smart. Thou shalt not steal. You know what that means, right, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” Alex thought about how angry Grandma Murphy was when Dr. Malkin caught him trying to steal the bracelet for her at the Billy Sunday show, and how she made him say “thou shalt not steal” over and over one hundred times until she was satisfied he had learned his lesson.
“Good.” She sliced a hunk of cheese from the wedge next to the crackers and held it on her knife. “Now, you would never steal from anyone in this house, would you, Alex? Because, and I’m sure you know this, it would be a very, very wrong to do that, to take something that didn’t belong to you. You understand this, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Because it would make the person you stole from very sad.” She leaned her elbows on the table and put her face on her knuckles “Or very angry. You see?”
“Uh-huh.” The folded edge of the certificate pressed against his stomach.
“Good.” She smiled. “Now of course, there is no good excuse for stealing, but there is a way to make up for it.”
Without thinking, he said “What?”
Hannah rubbed her hands together. “Well, if the person that stole put whatever it was they stole back where it belonged, then it wouldn’t be quite as bad. You see what I mean? And if the person stole something like, let’s say, an important paper, if that person put it back by tomorrow, then whoever the paper belonged to, she might be willing to forget all about it. Otherwise.”
Alex blurted, “Otherwise?”
“Otherwise, there’s such a thing as punishment. You know what punishment is, like when you’re a bad boy and your father gives you a spanking.”
“But he never did.”
“No? But all little boys, when they do something wrong, they have to get a spanking. Otherwise.”
There was that word again. He didn’t know what it meant. “What’s otherwise?”
Hannah pulverized the stack of saltines with her fist, driving them into the table, crumbs flying. She brushed the heel of her hand. “You know, Alex, once I had the sweetest little boy in the world. He’s gone now.”
Male Child. “Where did he go?”
“Oh, they took him, I mean, he had to go away for a while, but now he’s come back to me and I don’t want to ever, ever lose him again.” She dabbed at the tears collecting at the corners of her eyes.
Did she mean he was Male Child? But he wasn’t an adoption, or was he? His head began to hurt again. He wondered if the aunts had a bottle of Dr. Malkin’s tonic. He could look in the bathroom on the first floor. “Hannah, I have to go and make pee.”
He closed the door behind him. He dragged a stepstool to the medicine cabinet. Among the jars and pills was a bottle of what looked like tonic. It was Hostetter’s Bitters, and even on the top shelf he reached it easily with his long arms. He twisted the cap and sniffed.
*
Belle and Lillie felt so elated after their lunch with Morris that instead of taking the trolley home, they splurged on a cab. Things had gone incredibly well. Their normally dour brother even had a cocktail with them. Usually, he drank only on the high holidays.
Over spring rolls and chow mein, the sisters explained how Hannah had been acting like a mature adult, how taking care of the little boy had matured her—and what an engaging little boy he was, Morris would love him. He might need some medical care, but that was another issue that could talk about another time. They also mentioned that the boy’s father, Mr. Miller, was a hardworking, responsible Jewish man and homeowner. In fact, they added, there were even some not so subtle hints that Mr. Miller might be attracted to his daughter…
“Hold on a minute,” Morris had said between slurps of egg drop soup. “Hold on a minute. What has she told this Miller about her past?”
Lillie explained that Hannah hadn’t really said anything, but that Mr. Miller was such an understanding man that, if and when the whole truth finally came out, they believed his feelings for Hannah would override any concerns there might be.
Morris said that perhaps at some point he ought to meet this Mr. Miller, but not right away, give it another month or so, Hannah is so flighty. “What did you say he did for a living?”
The cab stopped at their house. Belle paid the driver as Lillie opened a fortune cookie. It read, There is no wisdom like the wisdom of a child. “Belle, you do realize this Abe Mi
ller could be doing us all a big favor?”
“You mean by taking Hannah off our hands.”
“Yes, but don’t say it like that. Maybe she can have a happy life with him. Everyone deserves a happy life. Or at least a normal life, if not a happy one.”
“As long as Morris approves.”
“We’ll keep working on that. Of course, he’ll have a lot of explaining to do. It won’t be easy.”
“That’s his problem. He has a lot to atone for.”
“Well anyway. From now on, let’s be nicer to Mr. Abe Miller. Guide him in the right direction, for Hannah’s sake and Alex’s sake.”
“And our sake.”
“I love a late fall wedding, don’t you?”
Twenty feet from the door they heard Hannah’s screams. Arm in arm, they half walked, half ran to the door. Standing in the foyer, Hannah held Alex in her arms. His head lolled back and his eyes were closed.
“Hannah, what happened? My God.”
“I don’t know. He was lying on the bathroom floor when I found him. It wasn’t my fault. I would never hurt him. Please believe me. Is he going to die? Tell me he’s not going to die.”
Belle took Alex from her. “He’s breathing, Lillie. Help me put him on the sofa. Make some tea, Hannah. Now.”
Lillie leaned close to Alex’s face. “He smells like he’s been drinking.” She slapped his cheek. “Alex, wake up.”
Belle said, “I know what to do with a drunk.” She opened his mouth and put her finger down his throat until he threw up. She held his head until he was done.
A few minutes later, he was sitting up. After fifteen minutes, he was smiling again. Belle fed him sips of tea and bits of fortune cookie from the bag she’d brought home from the restaurant. Hannah stroked his wrist.
Lillie came out of the bathroom with the bottle of Hostetter’s Bitters. She sat down next to Hannah and told her it was a good thing she’d found him when she did. She took Alex’s hand. “Did you drink this, young man?”