Sylvia had ordered huge trays of gourmet sandwiches from a deli, and we furnished the rest—macaroni salad, tomatoes and mozzarella, platters of fruit and veggies, and a couple of chocolate fudge cakes.
I went up in my room for a final check in the mirror. I’ll have to say I looked hot. I was wearing tight white pants and a black halter top, exposing most of my back. Black strappy sandals with short heels. Too bad we hadn’t invited any guys my age; Lester’s friends would have to do.
As I started to turn away, I saw my mother’s eyes watching me. There’s a photo on my dresser of me on my mom’s lap. She was wearing a blue dress with white buttons, and I was playing with those buttons and laughing. I was probably about two.
Oh, Mom, I thought. Look at me now. Dad told me once that of all his daughters-in-law, Gramps had said he liked Marie best because of her smile. I bent over and kissed the picture before I went downstairs.
The streamers were strung on the back porch, the beer on ice, folding chairs around the lawn, and a CD player at the ready. We’d start our guests on the veggies and cheese, we decided, but wouldn’t bring out the rest of the food till everyone was there.
We’d told guests to come at six thirty sharp, and we were putting the finishing touches on everything when the doorbell rang at six.
“I’m not even dressed yet!” Sylvia said, starting for the stairs.
“I’ll get it,” I said, and opened the front door.
There stood a woman in her early twenties in jeans and a T-shirt, with a wild mane of frizzy hair around her head.
“Loretta!” I said.
“Alice!” We threw ourselves in each other’s arms. Here she was, a half hour early and looking great. Her hair was still bushy but was well-trimmed, and she was slimmer than she’d been back in her days at the Melody Inn.
She smiled broadly, and I remembered how she used to smile that way at Lester.
“So how are you?” I asked, after introducing her to my friends.
“I’m great!” she said. “My little girl is amazing, my husband’s got a job he likes, we finally got our own apartment, and I’m hoping to have another baby. How’s that for a progress report?”
Dad introduced her to Sylvia, and we were still exclaiming over how great Loretta looked when we heard a car door slam and looked out the window to see … Lester!
“Lester!” I shrieked to the others.
“Tell him we’re upstairs packing!” Dad said, racing for the stairs.
“Put the food away!” yelled Sylvia.
“Quick! What’s the story line?” Loretta asked me.
“He’s supposed to be driving Dad and Sylvia to Dulles—they’re on their way to London—and I’m supposed to be staying with Liz while they’re gone,” I said.
Gwen and Liz and I were already zapping the platters of sandwiches into the cold oven, the dishwasher, the cupboards. The macaroni salad went under the sink, the chocolate cakes in the fridge… .
We heard the screen door open, and then Loretta opened the front door before Lester could.
“Lester!” she cried.
He stared at her incredulously. “Loretta?”
“I just stopped by to see your dad and found that everybody’s leaving!” she said. “They’re going to London.”
“Yeah, I’m driving them to the airport,” said Les. “What about you? How are you?”
“Oh, Les, I could talk all night,” Loretta said. “Do you really want to hear? I’m fine, and—Here! Sit down a minute. Your dad’s still packing and I’m leaving soon, but, hey! You look great! What’s with you? You don’t live here anymore, do you?”
Lester looked around uncertainly as he sat down at one end of the couch.
“Liz and I are making dinner to take over to her house for our friends,” I said, poking my head through the kitchen doorway. “I’d give you some, Les, but we’re sort of having a party over there.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll talk with Loretta.”
I slipped back into the kitchen as Loretta chattered on.
“What are we going to do?” I whispered in a panic to Gwen, Liz, and Pamela. “Should I go outside and direct people around to the back before they can knock?”
“He’ll hear car doors slamming and people talking. He’ll know something’s up,” said Pamela.
Loretta must have been giving him an account of every day of her life since he saw her last. He was probably feeling trapped all over again.
Then the doorbell rang a second time. I answered to find Rosalind and her older brother Billy.
“Lester’s here, but he doesn’t suspect anything yet,” I whispered as I motioned wildly toward the living room. Rosalind nodded.
“Oh, hi, Roz!” I said, louder. “We’re about ready to go over to Elizabeth’s. We’re making dinner here to take over.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Want me to carry something?”
And then Les saw her brother. “Bill!” he exclaimed, getting up.
“Heeeey! Drummer boy!” Bill said. “What are you doing here? I just dropped Roz off, but I didn’t know you lived here too.”
“I don’t,” said Les. “I’ve got an apartment in Takoma Park, but I’m driving my dad and stepmother to the airport.” They shook hands. “Sit down. I’ve got some time yet,” Lester said, and introduced Loretta to Bill.
More shaking of hands. But the doorbell rang again.
This time Lester’s housemates—Paul and George—walked in, and they had old Mr. Watts with them.
“Where’s the cake?” the old man asked loudly, and, seeing Lester, he joked, “Never mind the birthday boy. Bring on the cake!” And then Les knew.
Dad and Sylvia came downstairs, laughing.
“You guys!” Lester said, slapping his forehead.
“The trip’s off,” Dad said, grinning. “We decided we’d rather stay here and help celebrate.”
“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Lester said.
“We can’t either,” I told him. “What do you mean, showing up almost an hour early?”
“I was hungry,” Les confessed. “I figured whatever you had in your fridge had to be more than I’ve got in mine.”
And did we party! Lester’s baseball buddies came next, and soon everyone was out in the backyard feasting on sandwiches and salads. I’d put on one of Lester’s favorite CDs that was a favorite of mine, too.
It was fun having Lester’s friends around. I hadn’t met any of the people he hung out with at school and only a couple of the guys he played ball with. It’s weird in a way. It’s like seeing a whole other part of your brother—a different personality, even—and you have to remind yourself that he has a life completely separate from yours.
When guests found out that Lester and Bill used to play in a band together, they demanded a concert. Bill had a couple of acoustic guitars in the car, so he and Les performed right there in the backyard. It was only a couple of numbers, but I could tell that Les was enjoying himself.
A group of guys were gathered in one corner of the yard, beers in hand, laughing and telling stories about Lester. George Palamas had stayed about forty-five minutes and then taken Mr. Watts back home. But Paul Sorenson sat on a folding chair at the edge of the group, looking about as stiff and out of place as a paper clip in a bowl of rubber bands. He’d smile from time to time at something one of the guys said, but he didn’t know any of them, and I could tell he wasn’t really a part of the conversation. He glanced at his watch once, propped his left ankle over his right knee, coughed, and reversed it.
He was very tall, gangly, with blondish hair. Decent-looking but too serious, I thought, for his own good. Maybe it was because I knew he was feeling out of place, or because he was shy, but before Pamela could notice and grab him, I went over. Someone had put on a polka.
“Come on,” I said, reaching out my hand. “Let’s dance.”
Paul looked up. Looked startled. “No,” he said, laughing a little. “I can’t.” He leaned
back away from me slightly, a faint blush spreading on his face.
“Sure you can. I’ll teach you,” I said, tugging at his hand.
I really hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but I realized then that I had. He had to choose between the awkwardness of refusing me or a possible humiliation out on the lawn. Liz and Gwen and Rosalind were already dancing, while Pamela tried to sneak a beer. I smiled at Paul encouragingly, and he gave in. Liz saw us and mouthed, Go, Alice!
I took Paul’s hands, facing him, and waited for the beat. “AND one two three AND one two three …” I said as he watched my feet. “It’s sort of like a gallop across the yard,” I told him.
Gamely, he gave it a try. He tripped once or twice, but then he caught on, and we went hopping across the grass, first one foot, then the other. I heard a little chuckle come from his throat as we almost collided with Dad and Sylvia, and I could feel him relax just by the way he held me.
“Isn’t this great weather for a party?” I said.
“Wonderful,” said Paul.
What would it be like, I wondered, to date “an older man”? Paul was probably older than Lester, even. What would we talk about if he took me out? If we were with another couple? I wondered if what Lester talked about at our dinner table was just watered-down ideas he thought I could understand, or if guys like Paul Sorenson liked some of the same things I did.
The polka was over, and we were both breathing hard. Paul’s forehead glistened, and he grinned at me.
“Well, that was fun!” he said.
“We did all right!” I said, smiling back. For a second or two I didn’t release his hands, even when I felt them relax. Was I crushing on him? I wondered. Lester’s roommate? I’d been to his apartment! I’d seen him in his stocking feet! I’d seen a hole in his T-shirt!
“Enjoy the party,” I said, reluctantly letting go of his hands and my daydream both.
Later, the way Les lit into that chocolate cake, it appeared to me that he still had a lot of reasons to live and wasn’t going to stay depressed too much longer. Besides, Dad told me later, twenty-four is still too young for a guy to settle down. Especially Lester.
I wanted to connect with my relatives more—not just when I had a question or a favor to ask—so the next morning I called Uncle Milt and Aunt Sally, just to tell them about the party.
“What’s the matter?” Aunt Sally asked as soon as she heard my voice. With my aunt, it’s always an emergency if I call first.
“Nothing! I just called to say hello before I get too busy at school,” I said. “And I wanted to tell you about the surprise party we gave for Lester.”
“Oh, tell me about it!” she said, relieved. “What fun! My goodness, he’s twenty-four years old! I married at twenty-four.”
I was about to say that Lester would have married too if Tracy had said yes, but I stopped myself in time. I told her how he thought he was coming to drive Dad and Sylvia to the airport, but he had been the second person to arrive, and how we had to hide all the food.
It was wonderful to hear Aunt Sally laugh. I wished I could have been in Chicago in person, telling her all this, sitting there in their living room between her and Uncle Milt, laughing the way we used to when I was little.
“That reminds me of a party your mother and I gave when she was twelve and I was sixteen,” Aunt Sally said. “We decided to give a come-as-you-are party for our friends. Everyone was supposed to show up wearing whatever they had on when they got our phone call. And of course we made our calls early in the morning or late in the evening, hoping to catch friends in their pajamas.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“Worse than that,” said Aunt Sally. “Oh my goodness, we opened the door to one guest, and all he had around him was a towel. He said he’d gotten out of the shower to answer the phone when we called, and that’s all he was wearing.”
I laughed.
“I tell you, we spent the whole evening trying to figure out if he had any shorts on under that towel, and it was a party to remember.”
“Wow!” I said. “Aunt Sally, you were hot! It’s nice that you and Mom did things together even though there was a four-year age difference between you.”
“Oh, she was my precious baby sister,” Aunt Sally said. “I was so protective of Marie. And … in the end … I couldn’t protect her at all, could I?” I heard Aunt Sally sigh. “But you know, the more protective I was of her, the more … adventurous she became. Mother always said that half the gray hair on her head came from old age and the other half came from raising Marie.”
“Really?” This was news to me. “What did Mom do?”
“Oh, things like hitchhiking once with a girlfriend to the next town. Dad was really angry about that. And the time she rode a bike through downtown Chicago. And the time she spent the night on our roof… .”
It suddenly occurred to me that my mother had had a more exciting life than I had. It must have seemed that way to Aunt Sally, too, because she began to backpedal. “Listen, Alice, I only told you these things as a cautionary tale. Don’t you go trying them yourself. Marie had more sense after she grew up. We just didn’t know whether she’d live to grow up, that’s all.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” I asked.
“For the very reason that we wanted you to live to grow up too,” she said.
“I love everything you tell me,” I said. “I never get tired of hearing about her.”
“I know,” said Aunt Sally. “And I never get tired of telling.”
* * *
A few minutes after I hung up the phone, it rang again. Sylvia was raking leaves in the backyard, and I saw her look toward the house.
“I’ll get it,” I called out to her, and answered. It was Dad.
“Alice, I’ve been trying to get you for the last ten minutes,” he said.
“I was on the phone with Aunt Sally,” I explained.
“Well, I just got a call from Howard,” he told me, meaning one of his twin brothers down in Tennessee. “Dad’s very sick, and I think we should all fly down to Tennessee this afternoon.”
We?
“Uh … how bad is it?” I asked in a small voice.
“It’s congestive heart failure. The doctors don’t expect him to live more than a few days, at the most.” I heard a catch in my father’s voice.
“Oh, Dad!” I cried.
“I’ve already called Lester, and we’ve got plane reservations for the four of us leaving National at two thirty. Paul Sorenson’s going to drive us to the airport. Would you ask Sylvia to pack for me? I have to finish something up here, and then I’ll be home.”
“Y-Yes,” I said. “Dad, I’m so sorry.”
I went out on the back porch and told Sylvia. She left the rake where she’d dropped it and started for the house. At one that afternoon we were standing in line for our boarding passes at the airport.
18
And Life Goes On
I’d wanted a reunion. I’d wanted the whole family to gather, but not like this. I’d imagined Uncle Howard and Uncle Harold, Aunt Vivian, Aunt Linda, and Aunt Marge all coming to Maryland for Lester and Tracy’s wedding, bringing Gramps with them in his wheelchair.
Instead, we sat on vinyl seats in the airport, watching planes come in and take off. I wished Dad would talk to me, but he seemed locked inside himself, not saying much to anyone. Sylvia didn’t talk much either. She held Dad’s hand, and now and then she patted his arm. I was stuck with Lester, who had brought one of his philosophy textbooks with him and was writing notes in the margins.
I wished we were driving to Tennessee in our car, me curled up in the backseat with my CD player. On the train. A bus, even. I felt like my life was shaky right now, like I needed something solid beneath me. My thoughts traveled back and forth from Grandpa McKinley dying down in Tennessee to the lines of people moving through the doors and down the ramps to their planes. How did those huge planes, weighing tons, make it up in the air, anyway? I never di
d understand it exactly.
An attendant was moving toward the door now and took the rope away from the entrance to the ramp. “Flight 3651 to Nashville,” she said to one section of the waiting area.
People began gathering up their things. Lester closed his book and stood up. Dad and Sylvia stood up too and reached for their bags.
It felt as though there were a balloon in my chest growing larger and larger. I couldn’t understand it. It was a strange, hollow feeling I’d never had before, though it was something like the dread I used to experience when facing the deep end of the swimming pool. Thumpa … thumpa … thumpa went my heart as I followed them to the doorway and showed my boarding pass.
I felt weak, and my hands were cold. I’d never been on a plane before that I could remember. The only movies I’d seen about planes were disaster movies. Dad and Sylvia had gone on ahead, and I was tagging along behind Lester.
“Les,” I said in a quavery voice, “do pilots ever drink and fly?” He turned and raised one eyebrow at me, but I scurried up alongside him. “Do they?” I insisted.
“They’re not supposed to have a drink within eight hours of a flight,” he said.
“‘Not supposed to’ isn’t the same as ‘don’t,’” I said.
“Well, if they do, they can lose their jobs,” said Lester.
Why would that matter if the plane went down? I thought. They’d certainly lose their jobs then. We followed the ramp to the door of the plane. Two flight attendants stood just inside and smiled at us. Never mind the attendants, I decided. The door to the cockpit was open a few inches, and I inhaled as we passed. No booze that I could detect.
Les and I had seats by the emergency door a few rows behind Dad and Sylvia. A businessman in a pin-striped suit sat in the window seat reading a newspaper. I slid in next to him, and Lester took the aisle seat.
Passengers were putting their carry-on bags .in the overhead compartments, and attendants moved up and down the aisles to help out. The FASTEN SEAT BELTS sign was on, and I buckled up, the dread in my chest growing stronger and stronger. There was still time to get off if I wanted. Should I? Life or death. Which should I choose? My breathing came fast.