When June had cried herself into dry sobs, Grandma led her upstairs, with me following close behind. From the door, I watched Grandma settle June on her bed and then sit down beside her.
"You rest, darling," she murmured. "Things will look better when you wake up, I promise they will."
While Grandma sang a soothing song to June, I went to my room. It was pretty clear she didn't want me. As I dumped my stuff out of the bureau drawers, I reminded myself I didn't care. Donny'd take me in. Maybe I wouldn't live right next door to William, but I'd still be able to come see him when he came back. And June, too.
"What are you doing, Gordon?" Grandma suddenly appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips, staring at me.
"What's it look like?" I made my voice ugly so she'd know I didn't care whether she wanted me or not.
Grandma studied the paper bags packed with my belongings. "It looks like you're planning on leaving."
"What if I am?" I narrowed my good eye to a slit and gave her my best Humphrey Bogart sneer. "I'm sure you'll be glad to get rid of me."
Grandma folded her arms across her chest. "You do beat everything, Gordon."
It seemed to me she was trying not to laugh but I figured I must be wrong. Nobody laughed at me. Not when I was looking my meanest.
Before I could think of a good comeback, Grandma said, "Didn't I tell your mother you could stay with me?"
"I figured you meant June, your darling, your honey." I spit out the last words, hating the sound of them.
"Did I say that?" Grandma asked. "Did I limit the offer to your sister?"
The old lady had me there. "No," I muttered, "but—"
Grandma interrupted me. "Have you ever known me to say anything I didn't mean?"
"No, ma'am," I admitted, feeling a little surge of hope run through my veins. "I have never heard you speak anything but the truth."
"Well, then." Grandma picked up my bags and emptied them onto my bed. "Put your things away," she said. "And make your bed. You're staying right here."
Grandma looked as if she expected me to argue, but I had a strange urge to throw my arms around her and hug her, maybe even kiss her. Instead, I started putting my underwear back in the bureau, working fast, hoping she wouldn't see the pack of Camels.
While I worked, Grandma paced around my room, finally coming to a stop by the window. She fiddled with the cord on the blind, running it up and down a few times as if she was testing it. Finally she spoke. "I don't know where your grandfather and I went wrong, but we surely missed the boat with Virginia. Now it seems the good Lord has given me a second chance at raising children. I mean to do it right this time, Gordon."
No doubt Grandma meant June and I were going to behave ourselves. Me especially. And not just at home. If I knew Grandma, I'd have to behave in school, too. And anywhere else I might go in Grandville.
Suddenly Grandma reached into the drawer I'd just filled with shirts and pulled out the pack of Camels. "I won't tolerate smoking," she said.
I gawked at Grandma, too surprised to argue. For an old lady, she sure had sharp eyes. Either that or I wasn't as quick as I thought.
"Did you steal these?" she asked. "I know you didn't have the money to buy them."
I felt my cheeks turn red. "I found them in the old man's car when I was hunting for whiskey. And not to drink, either," I added quickly, in case she believed what Mama had said. "He used to keep a pint in the glove compartment and another couple under the seat. I was just checking to see if he'd really quit, that's all."
Grandma gave me a long measuring look that said more than words ever could. "If I thought you intended to drink it," she said, "I'd send you off to reform school so fast your head would spin."
Suddenly she smiled a big smile, the first one she'd ever aimed at me. "Oh, don't look so mean, Gordy. You aren't nearly as bad as you'd like people to think you are."
I ducked away, embarrassed but kind of pleased, too. After all this time, she'd finally called me Gordy.
"Soon it'll be time for lunch," Grandma said. "Come on downstairs. I'll fix you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk."
Just as June and I were finishing the cookies Grandma had given us for dessert, Donny showed up, looking down in the mouth as usual. Maybe he had a hangover, maybe he'd had a bad night. Maybe it was just life in general. With Donny you couldn't tell.
"What's so important you couldn't say it over the phone?" he asked Grandma. "I have to be at work in half an hour."
"Daddy and Mommy left," June said through a mouthful of cookie. "They took Victor and Ernie and Bobby. Now I guess they'll have the pony, not me."
June had gotten over the worst of her crying but she was still upset about the stupid pony. I'd told her the old man was lying. There'd never be a pony. Not for her. Not for her brothers either. But for some reason she couldn't let go of the idea that she'd been cheated out of something.
Donny stared at June and then turned to Grandma. "What's she talking about?"
"It's true," Grandma said. "Your mother and father left this morning after one big hullabaloo. It's a wonder you didn't hear it all the way over on Seventh Street. They took the three little ones, but Gordon and June refused to go."
Donny touched my eye gently and scowled at Grandma. "Look at that," he said. "The old man hasn't changed. Why the hell did Mama go with him?"
"Virginia's a fool," Grandma said, not caring she was insulting our mother.
"The hell with both of them," Donny said, "and the damn pony, too."
I laughed but June started bawling. That pony was no joke to her.
"Watch your mouth, Donald," Grandma said, but she gave him a cup of coffee anyway.
Just as Donny got to his feet to leave, something on the radio caught his attention. "Hush," he said, turning up the volume.
The four of us gathered close to hear the biggest news since V-E Day. The United States dropped an atom bomb on Hiroshima. The announcer claimed it was the most powerful bomb ever made. Nothing like it had been used before. "We've unleashed the power of the universe," he said in a hushed voice.
Giving a loud whoop, Donny picked up June and waltzed her around the kitchen. "This is it, June Bug," he shouted. "The war will be over soon, just you wait and see!"
June hugged Donny, her eyes wide. No wonder she looked confused. The war had been going on longer than she could remember.
The only quiet one was Grandma. She stood still, her hands pressed to her heart, and gazed out the window at the blue sky. "Oh, Lord," she whispered, "a bomb the equal of twenty thousand tons of TNT. What have we done?"
Donny and I stopped yelling and stared at her. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Aren't you glad?"
Grandma pinched her lips together as if she was trying to keep someone from giving her a spoonful of poison. "So much destruction," she said. "Think of the innocent people. Children, babies..."
"Innocent people?" Donny frowned. "You think those Japs are innocent? Who started all this, Grandma? Who bombed Pearl Harbor? They deserve everything we do to them."
"It wasn't the children who bombed Pearl Harbor," Grandma said. "It wasn't the women and the old people."
"Grandma, we have to stop the war," Donny said. "Do you want more soldiers to get killed invading Japan? Haven't enough died already?" Donny's voice cracked and he turned away, reaching for his cigarettes.
"Just pray no one drops an atom bomb on this country," Grandma said before she went outside to pick beans for supper.
That would never happen, I thought, but June followed Grandma, looking worried. "Does Hitler have an A-bomb, too?" I heard her ask. Poor kid, she'd been scared of Hitler so long she couldn't believe he was really dead.
"Look at the time," Donny said suddenly. "I've got to get to work. I don't want Manny yelling at me for being late."
I tagged along behind my brother, but he stopped me at the gate. "Where do you think you're going, runt?"
"With you," I said, hoping to share an orang
e Nehi and shoot the breeze with the guys.
Donny shook his head. "No, siree. Manny's getting tired of seeing you following me from pump to pump, begging gum and soda pop. You don't want to get me fired, do you?"
"We just dropped the atom bomb, Donny. Nobody's going to care if you're late or if I'm with you. In fact, I bet good old Manny closes the station."
"I said no." Without looking at me again, Donny left, lighting a cigarette as he walked away.
I hung on the gate, swinging back and forth, watching my brother's back till he turned the corner. It seemed our family was getting smaller and smaller. Stu gone. Mama and the old man on their way to California with my little brothers. Donny living over on Seventh Street, drifting further and further away every day.
June was all I had now. And Grandma—who was going to yell at me for swinging on the gate if I wasn't careful.
Twenty-three
Two days later we gave Tojo another dose of the atom bomb. This time we hit Nagasaki. President Truman said we'd keep on bombing till the Japs surrendered, but, even though everybody was sure the war would end any minute, it wasn't till August fourteenth that we got the good news. At seven P.M., Truman announced it on the radio. The war was finally over.
I jumped up, yelling and cheering, but Grandma just sat there, staring at the radio. "Thanks be to God," she said. "I can't condone the bombing but I'm glad the fighting and killing are over at last."
"You're as bad as Stu," I said, but Grandma was looking at the picture of President Roosevelt hanging over the radio.
"If only he'd lived long enough to see this day," she said. "Who would have guessed the end would come without FDR?"
June leaned against Grandma's side. "Is the war over in California, too?"
"Of course, honey. I imagine your mother and father are as happy as we are."
"I wish they were here," June said, getting all teary-eyed and sad. Which goes to show our family could turn the happiest of times into the unhappiest. Here we'd finally won the war, and June was crying for Mama and Grandma was fretting about President Roosevelt and the atom bomb. Soon we'd all be boo-hoo-hooing.
It was Donny who saved the day. Bounding up the front steps, he opened the screen door and stepped into the hall. "Hey, June Bug," he called. "Come on outside. I've got a surprise for you and Gordy."
We followed him to the backyard. Pulling a handful of cherry bombs out of his pocket, he said, "I've been saving these for this moment."
Donny set them off, one after another. Bam, bam, bam—just like artillery fire. I begged him to let me light at least one but he said I might blow off a finger or something. It made me sore to be treated like a little kid so I watched all by myself from the porch steps. If William had been there, it might not have been so bad. We could have made jokes about Donny, called him names, teased him—things it's no fun to do by yourself.
I looked over at the Sullivans' house. A man was mowing the lawn. He came once a week to keep the yard in shape. When he saw me looking at him, he raised his hand and made a V for Victory sign. I grinned and made the sign to him. But I wished I knew where William was and what he was doing. And if he was ever coming back.
After Donny used up all his firecrackers, we could hear others popping and banging all over Grandville. It was better than the Fourth of July. Horns blew, church bells rang, the fire siren down by the train tracks blasted the All Clear. Inside, the radio played "When the Lights Go on Again All Over the World." A bunch of kids marched past the house wearing old Civil Defense helmets and waving little American flags. They were trying to sing "The Star-Spangled Banner" without much success.
When June saw her friend Nancy, she ran to join the parade, laughing and singing, Mama forgotten.
Donny sat down beside me and lit a cigarette. I was tempted to ask for a drag, but Grandma was watching from the doorway. Most likely Donny would have said no anyhow.
We talked for a while about the atom bomb. What might have happened if the Nazis had invented it first. What it must be like to see that mushroom cloud towering over your head. How it might change things forever.
Though I didn't tell Donny, the newspaper pictures of what the bomb had done scared me. We'd blasted Hiroshima flat. Miles and miles of rubble and twisted metal. People with their clothes and hair burned off. Some incinerated in a flash, the paper said. Lots of kids no bigger than my little brothers had been killed or injured. We'd done the same thing to Nagasaki. Like Grandma, I hoped nobody would drop that bomb on us.
When Donny and I ran out of things to say about the bomb, we drifted off into baseball. "Remember the time the old man took you and me and Stu down to Griffith Stadium to see the Senators play?" Donny asked.
I scowled. It was just like that trip to Ocean City he'd told me about. Why had all the good things happened when I was too little to remember them?
"You had a great time," Donny went on. "Stu carried you on his shoulders and some lady took your picture because she thought you were so cute." He laughed and tweaked my cheek.
I pulled away, mad. I didn't like being treated like a dumb little kid. "Well, I'm not cute anymore," I said.
"That's for sure," Donny agreed. "Man, you'd break that poor lady's camera if she aimed it at your ugly mug now." He laughed to show he was joking, and I laughed, too. Though I didn't really think it was all that funny.
Just when I thought Donny was going to stick around, he got to his feet. "Time to meet Charlie," he said.
"What are you and him going to do?" I asked. Even though I knew better, I wished he'd say they were going fishing or to play ball and I could go with them.
"What do you think?" Donny laughed. "Get loaded and sleep it off tomorrow. Manny's closing for V-J Day."
After he left, Grandma came out and made herself comfortable beside me. "Sure is hot," she said.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead. My shirt stuck to my back and the waistband of my shorts was soaked through. "If it would just rain," I said.
Grandma sighed in agreement. "We could use it. The corn's drying up in the fields outside town."
We sat there for a few minutes, thinking our own thoughts. Finally Grandma asked where Donny had gone.
"Down to Fourth Street with Charlie McBride," I said. "They're celebrating the end of the war in some bar."
Grandma sighed. "I guess one excuse is as good as another." To my surprise, she put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick hug. "You miss William, don't you?"
I shrugged. "Do you think he'll ever come back?"
"Summer's almost over," Grandma said. "He's bound to come home soon."
"He'll probably still be mad at me."
"I doubt it, Gordy. By now, William probably realizes you didn't intend any harm."
"But I did," I muttered.
Grandma stared at me. "What do you mean?"
I felt my face heat up like an oven. "I got so mad at him down in the park that day—first because I thought he wasn't trying and then because he wouldn't do anything but cry and cuss and act like he hated me. I wanted to hit him, I wanted to beat him up. I almost did, too."
Afraid to look at Grandma, I clenched my fists and pounded my own knees. "I'm just like the old man," I said, itchy with shame. "Hitting people. Even people like William who can't fight back."
There. I'd said it. I'd told Grandma the worst thing about myself. Something much worse than cussing or smoking. I was sure she'd get up and go inside, maybe even call the reform school to come and get me. A boy who wanted to hit a crippled kid. I belonged in jail, all right.
"But you didn't hit him, did you?"
I stared at Grandma, surprised by her soft voice. Her eyes probed mine, seeking the truth.
"No," I said. "I didn't hit him, but it was all I could do to stop myself. I really wanted to."
"Well," Grandma said, "I think that says a lot about you, Gordy. You wanted to, but you didn't. That took strength of character, young man."
I couldn't think of anything to say,
so she went on. "Look at it this way. Your father's been hitting you all your life, taking his temper out on you and your mother and your brothers and sister. It's all you've known, Gordy. Bullying people to make them do what you want."
Grandma put her arm around my shoulders and gave me another little hug. "Now it's up to you to learn a different way. Find out who you are. Follow your own footsteps, no one else's."
I studied my feet as if they might hold some clues as to where they planned to take me, but they were just their ordinary old dirty selves.
"There's a song we sing in school," I said slowly. '"This Land Is Your Land.' Do you know the one I mean?"
Grandma smiled and nodded. "I know it well."
"It has a part about roaming and rambling and following my footsteps...."
Grandma began singing and I joined in. We sang about the redwood forest and the Gulf Stream waters, the ribbon of highway and the endless skyway, the golden valley and the sparkling sands of the diamond deserts. Then we just sat together, nice and quiet. Strange as it sounds, I actually enjoyed being with Grandma. Most grown-ups talk you to death or nag and carry on or cuss you out, but not her. She was peaceful to be with.
"Speaking of school," Grandma said, long after I'd forgotten mentioning it. "You'll be starting Orville Wright Junior High in a couple of weeks. Brand-new teachers, Gordy. A chance to make a fresh beginning."
She spoke cautiously, feeling her way along like a soldier in a minefield. She knew I hated school. Why had she gone and ruined everything by bringing the subject up?
"New teachers," I muttered, "but not new students. I'll still have to see Langerman's ugly face every day."
Grandma laughed. "Didn't I tell you the latest gossip?"
"No."
"Well, Mrs. Maxwell told me Dr. Langerman caught Jerry behind the garage sharing his best bourbon with a couple of other boys. His most expensive cigars, too. Havanas, Mrs. Maxwell said. Cost a fortune."
"I hope he whipped Langerman's tail," I said, picturing the scene.
"Better yet," Grandma said. "He's shipping him off to a military academy in Pennsylvania."