A Figure of Speech

by Norma Fox Mazer

  Later that evening, Mr. and Mrs. Pennoyer and Vince and Valerie all started down to Grandpa’s apartment. Jenny, who had been halfheartedly doing her homework, pushed aside her books and ran to join them.

  “Go finish your homework,” her mother said. “You’re not needed down here.”

  “I’m done,” Jenny said, quickly crossing her fingers behind her back. Childish, but necessary, she felt. Four against one. Grandpa would need her to even things up a bit.

  Her father rapped on Grandpa’s door, then opened it. Grandpa was sitting by his old American Bosch radio, his ear bent to the cloth-covered speaker.

  “Pop, we’ve got something to talk to you about,” Mr. Pennoyer said as they all crowded into the little room. “Can we sit down?”

  “Sit down, make yourselves comfortable,” Grandpa said, getting up and clearing a couple of chairs. “What can I do to help you?”

  Mr. Pennoyer lit a cigarette. “Valerie here has come up with a good idea,” he said. “You know the way we’re all overcrowded upstairs. Well, Valerie has figured out a way to ease the situation. Now I want you to listen and consider, Pop, before you say anything. I want you to try to look at it from every angle.”

  “Get to the point, Frank,” Grandpa said.

  Mr. Pennoyer’s scalp flushed. “The idea is for you to come live upstairs, share Frankie’s room, and let the young couple live down here.”

  “I don’t want to live upstairs,” Grandpa said. “I get along fine on my own, minding my own business.”

  “This is a good idea Valerie has had,” Mrs. Pennoyer said, pulling down the sleeves of her sweater. “We’re in such a mess upstairs, and this would solve everything. The young people need their privacy, their own kitchen, their own bathroom. You know how important that is for young folks, Grandpa.” She spoke softly, but distinctly, leaning toward Grandpa.

  “You wouldn’t like it down here,” Jenny said to Valerie. “You think it’s cute now, but everybody’s upstairs tramping over your head, making noise all the time—”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Valerie said. “I’m very noise-tolerant. Anyway, it couldn’t be any noisier than being right in the house with all of you.” She put her hand on the back of Vince’s neck. “Right, honey?”

  “It’s dark down here,” Jenny said. “Especially in winter. And damp. You’d need at least three sweaters to keep yourself warm. And something else, there’s no shower. What about that? You have to have a shower.”

  “Jenny,” her father said, “will you butt out?”

  “Val can go upstairs and shower,” Vince said. “No sweat.”

  “I see you’ve thought of everything,” Grandpa said.

  “You have to admit it’s a practical suggestion,” Mr. Pennoyer said. “The more I think about it, the better it seems. Realistically, Pop, we all know you don’t keep up this apartment. Take the walls, they ought to be washed down and painted. It’s too much for you, and I’m busy, so it doesn’t get done. Things are going downhill here.”

  “Upstairs with us, Grandpa, you’d have everything you need,” Mrs. Pennoyer said. “You’d be right there with all of us watching out for you.”

  Grandpa reached for his aspirin bottle and shook two of the tablets into the palm of his hand.

  “What do you say, Pop? It’s not forever. It would only be for a year, and then the kids are going back to college. Letting them live here would be something you could do for all of us.”

  “It would be an unselfish and generous thing,” Mrs. Pennoyer agreed.

  Grandpa looked as if he were biting a lemon. “I can’t do that,” he said. “If I could help any other way—” He picked up a newspaper from one of the stacks. “Here’s a newspaper ten years old, Vincent. Are you studying history? These newspapers could be very helpful to you. Come down and read them whenever you want to.”

  Vince shook his head. “I’m not doing much reading these days, Grandpa.”

  “Then I guess I can’t help you,” the old man said.

  Chapter 9

  Outside it was dark. The window above Grandpa’s metal table was slightly open, and sounds floated in. Cars sent showers of pebbles flying from the recently tarred road. A gray cat, tail high, came to the window, sniffed, then passed on. A man walked by; Jenny saw the bottom of his trousers, frayed and muddy, and his heavy boots with worn-down heels.

  Grandpa was chewing aspirin, the bottle sitting on the table next to a chipped yellow cup half filled with sugar. Twice in the past week Jenny had caught Grandpa sitting at his table with the lights off, just sitting there, his hands absently fumbling at the buttons on his saggy-pocketed sweater. “What are you doing?” she asked the last time.

  “Thinking,” he’d said.

  “Thinking about what?”

  “Things.” And that was all he would say. But she knew he was thinking about Valerie and Vince wanting his apartment for themselves. He’d said no, sorry no, but her parents weren’t taking no for an answer. Both her father and her mother had come downstairs several times to talk to Grandpa again quietly and seriously. Gail had been up and down, too, getting ready for the party she was giving in the other side of the cellar. The whole thing made Jenny sick. Why didn’t they all stay upstairs where they belonged?

  Now she went to the sideboard and took out the deck of cards and sat down opposite Grandpa at the table. “Let’s play cards.”

  “Cards?” His eyes focused on her.

  “Unless you want to sit here thinking some more.”

  “Eh,” he said in disgust. “Thinking. What’s the stakes?”

  “Quarter of a penny a point.” She shuffled the limp cards, rippling them together, then breaking them apart for another shuffle. Footsteps pounded down the cellar steps outside Grandpa’s apartment. “Play this record,” a boy’s voice said, coming clearly through the wall.

  “Who’s that?” Grandpa said.

  “Gail’s having a party. I thought I told you.”

  A moment later music filled the air, the heavy beat of a drum and a girl singing about love in faraway places. There were more steps, voices, and laughter.

  Jenny turned up the top card. “The party was Valerie’s idea. Gail lost two pounds sticking to a diet Valerie gave her, and Valerie said she ought to reward herself with a party. And Mom and Dad are out tonight, so they both thought it would be a perfect night.”

  Grandpa held the cards close to his nose. “You didn’t shuffle these cards very good.”

  “You always say that.” The top card was a three of hearts. “You want that?”

  “I’m thinking it over,” he said loftily. He studied his hand, studied the top card, then shook his head. “I don’t want it. I suppose you do.”

  Jenny took the three of hearts, fitting it into her hand. She laid down a jack of clubs. Grandpa moaned in mock anguish. “You dealt me the worst cards in the deck.”

  In the other part of the cellar the noise was escalating—the heavy pounding beat of the music, shrieks, and laughter, all of it mixed with loud thumps against the wall. Jenny and Grandpa played several hands, all of which Grandpa lost. “You’re not paying attention,” Jenny scolded. Her foot beat in time to the music pouring in through the thin walls.

  “That racket is distracting me,” Grandpa said, putting down his cards. “I’ve had enough of this. What do I owe you? Add it up.” He got up and lit the fire under the tea kettle on the stove. “You want some tea, child?”

  “Sure,” she said, biting the end of the pencil. “Grandpa, you owe me twenty-five cents. How about that?” Smiling, she looked over at him, but he didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes were focused inward.

  “Well, Jenny,” he said, coming back to the table and slowly lowering himself into his chair, “should I do it? Should I give Vincent and his wife my apartment? Your father has got me more than half convinced I’m a selfish old fool.”

  “You’re not!” Jenny’s face heated. “You’re not selfish, don’t let them talk that way to you.” She jumped
up and hugged him around the neck. “Why’d they have to come home, just to make trouble?”

  He unwound her arms. “They’re doing what they have to do. Young people have to get together, get married, have a place to live—”

  “That’s all right,” she said fiercely, “but this is your place!”

  “My place,” he said. “My place. Well, is it my place? Or is it your father’s?” The music rose louder than ever on the other side of the wall, and he reached for his aspirin bottle. He put two more tablets in his mouth and chewed them. His hands shook clumsily as he recapped the bottle. Again the volume of the music soared and waves of sound reverberated through the apartment. “Are they all deaf out there?” Grandpa said. His mouth was thin. “Crazy kids, what are they doing down here anyway?” Spots of color came to his cheeks. Jenny saw how agitated he was—not about the kids and the music, really, but the apartment and the pressure on him to give it up. “Turn the damn noise off,” he shouted, but the music, laughter, and thumps on the wall continued as before. He half rose.

  “Wait, Grandpa, I’ll go out there and get them to be quieter,” Jenny said. “You stay here. Don’t yell, Grandpa, I’ll tell them.” She slipped out of Grandpa’s door, closing it carefully behind her, and into the cellar, which Gail and Valerie had spent the afternoon decorating with balloons and twists of crepe paper.

  Gail had invited about a dozen of her friends. On a card table were two huge bowls of popcorn and several large bottles of soda. Gail’s best friend, Francine Jones, was doing handstands against the wall of Grandpa’s apartment. Thump! Thump! Francine’s feet hit the wall, her skirt covered her face, and her bright yellow panties showed. Gail was dancing with Wally Franklin who had taken off his shirt and was bare-chested.

  “What are you doing here?” Gail said, noticing Jenny. “I told you this party was private.”

  “Wild party,” Jenny said.

  “Whoop-ee-do,” Gail said in a bored voice.

  “It’s too noisy for Grandpa.”

  “You joining the party?” Wally asked.

  “Not her,” Gail was emphatic.

  To annoy Gail, Jenny said, “I’ll come if I want to.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t!”

  “It’s a free country.”

  “Hooray for freedom,” Wally said.

  “How come you’re not wearing your shirt?” Jenny said. Wally grinned. He had little red pimples on his forehead.

  “He’s showing off his wonderful body, child,” Gail said.

  Thump! Thump! Francine did another handstand. At the same time, a girl shrieked, “The pig spilled Coke down the front of my blouse!”

  Jenny shook Gail’s arm. “You better get them to keep it down. Grandpa is real nervous.”

  “What do you mean Grandpa is nervous? Tell him to take a tranquilizer if he’s so nervous.”

  “Gail, don’t be a pig! Just get everyone to keep it down, okay?”

  “It certainly isn’t okay,” Gail said. “Who do you think you are, barging into my party and telling me how to run it? My friends are just having f—”

  An angry voice interrupted, “Turn that racket down!” It was Grandpa, angrily stomping over to the record player and yanking the cord out of the wall. In the sudden silence, Francine remained standing on her hands. “Get your feet off the wall, you ridiculous child,” Grandpa said.

  A wave of laughter swept the room. Several of the boys began jeering at Grandpa. “Yes, ridiculous child … oh, you ridiculous child … stop that, you ri-dic-u-louse CHILD!” They ran toward Grandpa, shouting, then as he shook his fist at them, they pretended to dash away in fright. He caught one of the boys, Eddy Tanner, and gripped him by the shoulder.

  “You fresh little punk,” he said, “you want me to shake some sense into you.” His voice was high.

  Eddy, a skinny boy in a pink shirt, looked scared. “Let go of me. What do you think you’re doing!”

  Gail’s face had turned a furious red. “Grandpa, stop that! Let Eddy go.”

  “Let Eddy go,” someone else echoed. “Free Eddy Tanner.” A mad hilarity seemed to take hold of the group. “Free Eddy Tanner, free Eddy Tanner,” they yelled, laughing and surging toward Grandpa.

  Frightened by the pinched look around Grandpa’s mouth and the way his hand was dug into Eddy’s shoulder, Jenny ran to the old man. “Grandpa, stop. Let’s go in and play cards again. Grandpa, come on!”

  “Ow, man, you’re hurting me,” Eddy howled. “Let go of me. Let go, you old fart!”

  Just then three boys charged toward Grandpa, knocking into him. The force of their combined weight shook his hand from Eddy’s shoulder and slammed him against the wall. “We freed Eddy,” they yelled. Then, laughing hysterically, most of the party spilled up the concrete steps leading to the backyard.

  “Are you all right, Grandpa?” Jenny said. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  Breathing heavily, flushed and sweating, Grandpa remained leaning against the wall. He waved his hand slowly back and forth to indicate he was all right, but he seemed stunned. The cellar was nearly empty. Voices shouted down the street. Gail looked around, then turned on Grandpa. “You ruined my party!” Her voice was choked with tears. “It’s all your fault, all your fault, Grandpa!”

  “You shut up,” Jenny said. “Just shut up!”

  Chapter 10

  Sunday morning at breakfast, Gail complained bitterly to her parents about Grandpa’s ruining her party. “It wasn’t his fault,” Jenny broke in. “I told you to turn down the noise. You wouldn’t listen.”

  “Noise! It was music. I think I ought to be able to have a party in my own home once in a while. Mom, do you think that’s wrong?” Gail’s eyes filled with tears and the lids reddened. “It was so humiliating. Grandpa roaring around like a crazy man, scaring everyone, and practically wrecking the phonograph—”

  “He did not!”

  “Jenny, be quiet. Let Gail finish her story.”

  “Story is right. What about her hoody friends—”

  “Jenny!”

  “And then he caught Eddy Tanner and shook him like a dog. I mean, he acted crazy! Like a little music drove him crazy.”

  “It’s really too bad the way things turned out,” Valerie said. “Too bad Gail’s party was wrecked, too bad Grandpa got upset.” And she added that if she and Vince had been living in the basement apartment, nothing like this would ever have happened. They wouldn’t have minded the noise and spirited activities of Gail’s friends because they were, themselves, part of the young generation.

  You sound like a soft-drink ad, Jenny thought. She poked at the yolk of her soft-boiled egg.

  “Maybe there was a lot of noise,” Mr. Pennoyer said. “I know how kids can get, but Pop overreacted.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Gail sniffled. “He acted like an old madman!”

  “I can’t eat this egg,” Jenny said, pushing away her saucer. “It’s making me nauseous.”

  “It’s a perfectly good egg,” her mother said, pushing the saucer back toward her. “Do you know what fresh eggs cost?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Eat your egg,” her father said. “Your mother’s got enough on her head without arguing with you.”

  Jenny poked the spoon into the yolk. Slimy. She touched the tip of her tongue to the spoon and shuddered.

  “It seems like there’s not a moment of peace around here anymore,” her mother said. “Why is Grandpa so stubborn?”

  “Maybe he’s stubborn, but I can out-stubborn him,” her father said. “We’re not going on this way indefinitely, I can tell you that right now.”

  Jenny let another slimy drip of egg slither down her throat. She did feel nauseous. This whole conversation was making her nauseous. Didn’t any of them understand how upset Grandpa had been last night? And whose fault was it that he was so jumpy and upset? Theirs, because they wouldn’t leave him alone. It wasn’t fair. No matter how she looked at it, the unfairness made her quiver w
ith rage. Grandpa didn’t bother anybody. He only wanted to be left alone to do the things he liked to do—take walks, play cards, read his old newspapers, and smoke his pipe. Sometimes he put little messages on the bulletin board just to remind them all that he still knew what was going on around him. But that was no crime. They weren’t perfect, either.

  After breakfast, when the dishes were done and Ethel had been taken for a walk outside in her stroller, Jenny went downstairs. “How are you, Grandpa?” she said, hugging him. “Are you feeling okay? Did you rest okay last night?”

  He took his sweater off a hook on the wall and put it on. “It’s chilly early this year,” he said.

  “No, Grandpa, it’s a fantastic day outside,” Jenny began. “I took Ethel for a walk, and it’s really warm—” She stopped because he wasn’t listening; he’d gone inward again. Jenny wanted to rush to him and hug him again and tell him not to worry, he was strong, and nobody could push him around. She tried to conjure up the picture of herself and Grandpa holding that lance across the door of his apartment, but remembering the stunned look in his eyes when those boys hurled him against the cellar wall, she found her imagination blocked.

  “I’ll do your dishes,” she said, turning on the hot water tap.

  “Eh?” Grandpa said. She’d never noticed before that he said “eh?” like an old man. She ran a glass under hot water. “Shall I put the kettle on for you, Grandpa? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

  “Don’t fuss at me, child,” he said. Someone tapped at the door. “Come in, come in!”

  It was Mrs. Pennoyer, a yellow cardigan around her shoulders. “Grandpa, I—” Then, seeing Jenny, “You down here, Jenny? I told you to take Ethel out for a walk.”

  “I did,” Jenny said quickly. “I walked her all the way up to Jericho Park, pushed her in the swings for a while, and then walked her back.”

  “Well, what are you doing now?”

  “Just visiting Grandpa. Washing a few dishes for him.” She tipped a cup into the drain.