Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself

  “Have you been reading my letters?” Carolyn asked.

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know about Love and other indoor sports?”

  “I saw it, on the bottom of your letter, but I didn’t read anything else … I promise …”

  “I hope you’re telling the truth,” Carolyn said, “because you know what happens to nosey little girls, don’t you?”

  “No … what?”

  “Nothing very good!”

  “Can’t you just tell me what Love and other indoor sports means?”

  Carolyn laughed. “Some day you’ll find out.”

  So far she hadn’t. But Christine wouldn’t know that Sally didn’t know.

  They ate lunch in their seats. The wicker basket was filled with roast chicken sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies and fresh fruit. When they’d finished, Ma Fanny offered some of the extras to the soldiers sitting behind them.

  After lunch Mom and Ma Fanny dozed off and Sally and Douglas walked to the club car. It was fixed up like Alice Ingram’s recreation room, with a bar, sofas, and tables and chairs. Douglas bought two Cokes and he and Sally sat at a card table and played a few hands of Go Fish. Douglas won every time.

  “Are you glad we’re going to Florida?” Sally asked.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Same here.”

  Douglas reminded Sally of a grasshopper. His legs were growing very long and the shape of his face was long too, and thin, with big brown eyes. He had very nice hair, blonde and wavy, the kind Sally would have liked because then Mom wouldn’t have to set hers in rag curlers each night.

  “Did you know when I first got my kidney infection it burned when I pissed?”

  “It did?” Douglas was always trying to shock her with bad words.

  “Yeah … something awful … I wanted to climb the walls.”

  “You said funny things when you had your fever,” Sally told him.

  “Like what, for instance?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember exactly … a lot of mumbo-jumbo stuff …”

  “No kidding?”

  “Honest.”

  “Could you make anything out?” Douglas asked.

  “No … I didn’t get to listen that much … I was at school all day and then they wouldn’t let me in your room most of the time …” Sally took a sip of her Coke and promptly got the hiccups.

  “You shouldn’t drink that stuff.”

  “But I like it.”

  “Yeah … but you get the hiccups every single time.”

  “They’ll go away.”

  “I thought I was going to die,” Douglas said. “And I didn’t even care … that’s how bad I felt.”

  “I thought so too … for a little while.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Really.”

  “Were you sorry?”

  “Well, naturally … who’d want to be an only child?”

  “I figured you’d inherit my bicycle.”

  “Why would I even want your bicycle?”

  “It’s newer than yours … and bigger …”

  “So … I wouldn’t want you to die just because of that … don’t you think I have any feelings?” She hiccupped loudly and the bartender started to laugh.

  When they got back to their seats Mom was still dozing and Ma Fanny was reading The Forward, her Yiddish newspaper. Across the aisle and two seats ahead of them was a Negro woman with two little boys and a baby girl. The boys had been watching Sally all morning and now she took some cookies out of the basket and crossed the aisle, offering them to the children.

  “How nice,” their mother said. “Say, thank you, Kevin and Kenneth.”

  “Thank you Kevin and Kenneth,” they said at the same time, making Sally laugh. She wasn’t as interested in them as she was in the baby, who sat on her mother’s lap.

  “My name’s Sally Freedman and I’m going to Miami Beach because my brother, Douglas, who’s sitting right over there, has been sick with a kidney infection …”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I’m Mrs. Williamson and this is Kevin and this is Kenneth.” She touched each boy on the head as she said his name. “We’re going to Miami, too. We’re going to visit our granny, who’s never seen Loreen.” She held up the baby.

  “She’s so cute,” Sally said. “How old is she?”

  “Eight months.”

  “Hi, Loreen …” Sally said. The baby smiled at her. “I think she likes me. Can I hold her?”

  “Sure … if you sit down. Kevin, come sit by me and we’ll let Sally hold Loreen for a while.”

  “You’ll be sorry,” Kevin said. “She makes pooeys.”

  “So did you when you were a baby,” his mother reminded him.

  Sally got comfortable with Loreen on her lap. As soon as she did the baby grabbed a fistful of her hair and tried to get it into her mouth.

  “No, no …” Sally said, forcing the baby’s fist open.

  “And she eats hair,” Kevin said. “That’s how dumb she is.”

  Loreen laughed and made gurgling noises.

  “She’s teething,” Mrs. Williamson said. “Here … give her this.” She passed a teething ring to Sally. Loreen put it in her mouth and went, “Ga-ga.”

  “That’s all she ever says,” Kenneth told Sally.

  Sally held Loreen until the baby fell asleep. Then she gave her back to Mrs. Williamson and went to her own seat.

  “What were you doing over there?” Mom asked.

  “Playing with the baby.”

  “You shouldn’t be bothering them.”

  “I wasn’t … I was helping …”

  “From now on just stay in your own seat and read a book or something … it’s almost time for dinner.”

  “Okay …” Sally said.

  They ate in the dining car, and after took a walk to the club car, where they played checkers. Then it was time to get ready for bed. Sally, Mom and Ma Fanny changed into night clothes in the Ladies’ Room and when Sally brushed her teeth Mom warned her not to put her mouth on the fountain when she rinsed. “You could get trench mouth that way, God forbid.” Sally was careful.

  There were sleeping compartments on The Champion but Sally and her family slept right in their seats. The porter gave them each a pillow and a blanket and showed them how to tilt their chairs way back. The lights in the car dimmed and the steady rhythm of the train soon put Sally to sleep.

  She half awoke sometime in the middle of the night, vaguely aware that the train had stopped and that Ma Fanny was snoring softly.

  In the morning Loreen and her family were gone. “But they’re going to Miami too,” Sally said. “Mrs. Williamson told me.”

  “They had to change cars,” Mom said.

  “But why?”

  “Because they’re Negro.”

  “So?”

  “We’re in a different part of the country now, Sally … and colored people don’t ride with white people here.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Maybe not … but that’s the way it is.”

  Sally was bored without Loreen, and angry that Mom didn’t seem to care that the Williamsons had to change cars. The day dragged on and on. Breakfast turned into lunch and lunch turned into supper. Douglas kept pointing out the change in the scenery. They had to be getting close, he said. There were palm trees everywhere. Sally was tired of just sitting. She wished she could get off the train and run around.

  Finally the conductor called, “Next stop … Miami … Miami, Florida …”

  Finally they were there.

  Sally stepped off the train, stretched, and yawned loudly. Now her adventure would begin. But what did that mean? Maybe I don’t want an adventure, Sally thought. Maybe I’d just rather go home. Her stomach rolled over, and tears came to her eyes. “I want to go home,” she said, but no one heard. They were too busy trying to find a porter.

  They took a taxi to 1330 Pennsylvania Avenue, a pink stucco, U-shaped building, with a goldfish pool in f
ront. Their apartment was ugly. Ugly and bare and damp. Mom opened the windows while Sally went looking for the bedrooms, but all she could find was a tiny kitchen, a breakfast nook, a bathroom and an alcove.

  “I thought you said this place was interesting,” Sally said to her mother.

  “And it is,” Mom answered. “Look at this …” Sally followed her into the alcove and watched as Mom opened a door in the wall and pulled down a bed. “You see … it fits right into the wall … it’s called a Murphy bed … isn’t that clever … and interesting?” But she didn’t sound as if she really thought so herself.

  “Who sleeps on that?”

  “Me and Ma Fanny,” Mom said. “You and Douglas get the day beds in the livingroom.

  “You and Ma Fanny are going to sleep together … in the same bed?”

  “Why not?” Ma Fanny asked. “I don’t take up much room.”

  “But what about when Daddy comes?”

  “Oh, well … when Daddy comes Ma Fanny will sleep on the bed that’s tucked away under your day bed. We have plenty of room … plenty …” Mom brushed some loose hairs away from her forehead.

  Sally thought of the four big bedrooms in her house in New Jersey. Of her own room with twin beds so she could have friends sleep overnight. And then she remembered how Christine had said that only millionaires spend the winter in Florida and she felt like laughing, not because it was funny but because if Christine could see this place she’d change her mind pretty quick.

  “So what do you think?” Mom asked Ma Fanny.

  “With new slipcovers and curtains, a few plants, some knick-knacks, a throw rug here and there, a picture or two on the wall … not bad. Maybe not worth what you had to pay under the table, but not bad. It could be worse.”

  “We had no choice,” Mom said, her voice breaking, “everything’s so scarce right now.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ma Fanny said, touching Mom’s arm, “as soon as my Singer gets here you’ll never recognize the place.”

  “Where’s the telephone?” Douglas asked.

  “We ordered one,” Mom said, “but it takes a long time … there’s one in the lobby for emergencies though.”

  Douglas nodded.

  “At home we have two,” Sally said, suddenly angry. Why were they pretending? Why didn’t one of them just admit the truth. This place was a dump. Then she added, “And we have rose-beige carpeting too!”

  “Why don’t you just shut up?” Douglas said.

  “Who’s going to make me?”

  “Enough!” Mom said. “It’s been a long trip. Let’s get ready for bed. We’ll all feel better in the morning.”

  It was hard to fall asleep even though Sally felt tired. She tried a story inside her head but that didn’t work either. She wasn’t used to the smells here, to the strange night noises, to the day bed or having Douglas in the same room, breathing heavily. She missed her father. She wished he was there to tuck her in, although she wasn’t under any covers. It was too warm. Just a sheet was more than enough. She wished Daddy was there to give her a treatment.

  Two days later Sally got ready for school. She wore her red loafers, her Gibson Girl skirt and blouse and the pin Christine had given to her. Mom braided her hair, then pinned it on top of her head in a coronet because it was too warm to let it hang loose. Ma Fanny kissed her cheek and said, “Such a shana maidelah.” Sally understood Ma Fanny’s Yiddish expressions well enough. Shana maidelah meant pretty girl.

  Outside, Sally stopped for a look at the goldfish pool, then she and her mother walked up the street, past yellow and blue and other pink stucco apartment houses.

  “One of the reasons we wanted this apartment so badly is that it’s very close to school,” Mom said. “Just one block up and two blocks over …” At the corner they crossed the street. “That’s where Douglas will go,” Mom said, pointing to Miami Beach Junior-Senior High.

  “When will he start?” Sally asked.

  “Tomorrow, I think. First I want Dr. Spear to give him a good going-over.”

  “Who’s Dr. Spear?”

  “He’s going to be our doctor here … he was highly recommended … he’s the best …”

  “Do I really need this jacket?” Sally asked. “It’s so warm out.”

  “I guess not. Give it to me and I’ll take it home.”

  Sally wriggled out of it.

  “You’re not nervous are you?” Mom asked.

  “No … why should I be nervous?”

  “I don’t know … you didn’t eat any breakfast and you’ve been picking at your cuticles.”

  “I’m not used to eating here yet and my cuticles itch … that’s why I pick at them.”

  “I know you’ll do just fine,” Mom said, “so don’t be scared.”

  “Who’s scared?” Sally snapped a big red flower off a bush next to the sidewalk.

  “That’s a hibiscus,” Mom said.

  “It’s pretty.” She tucked it behind one ear and twirled around. “How do I look?”

  “Just like Esther Williams,” Mom said.

  Sally smiled. Esther Williams was her favorite movie actress. Some day she was going to swim just like her, with her hair in a coronet and a flower behind her ear. Swimming along underwater, always smiling, with beautiful straight white teeth and shiny red lipstick. Esther Williams never got water up her nose or had to spit while she swam, like Sally, who didn’t like to get her face wet in the first place. And Esther Williams never splashed either. Not even when she dove off the high board. You’d never know you had to kick to stay afloat from watching Esther Williams. And when she swam in the movies there was always beautiful music in the background and handsome men standing around, waiting. It would be great fun to be Esther Williams!

  “This is it,” Mom said. “Central Beach Elementary School …”

  “It doesn’t look like a school,” Sally said and her stomach growled. “Oh, be quiet,” she told herself.

  “It doesn’t look like your school at home,” Mom said.

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “It’s Spanish style … see the red tile roof … and all the archways … it’s very pretty …”

  “But it’s so big,” Sally said. At home there was just one class for each grade. She knew all the teachers and they knew her. She’d had the same kids in her class since kindergarten. This school was one floor, but it extended for a full block. It was U-shaped too, and made of white stucco. “And look at all those trailers,” Sally said. “What do you suppose they’re for?”

  “They’re portable classrooms,” Mom told her. “The schools down here are crowded.”

  “A person could get lost in a school like this.”

  “You’ll find your way around in no time.”

  “And it looks about five hundred years old, too.”

  “I doubt that it’s that old,” Mom said, looking around. “Now, first of all we’ve got to find the office.” She stopped a freckle-faced boy. “Can you tell us where the office is?”

  “Yes, Ma’am …” he said, “right around the corridor and second door to your left.”

  “Thank you.”

  “He called you Ma’am,” Sally said.

  “Yes, he was very polite.”

  “That sounds so funny.”

  “I think it sounds nice.”

  They found the office and Mom presented Sally’s transfer card and school records. The clerk said, “Well, Sally … you’ll be in 5B, Miss Swetnick’s class … and she’s one of our nicest fifth grade teachers. I know you’ll like her.”

  “Thank you,” Sally said, wondering if she should add Ma’am but deciding against it.

  “Now then …” the clerk went on, “the nurse’s office is around the corridor to your right, past the portables and the library, until you come to the art room, then turn left and continue down that corridor until you come to the fourth room on your right … it says Nurse on the door … got that?”

  “I think so,” Mom said.

 
“Why do I have to go to the nurse?” Sally asked.

  “It’s just a formality,” the clerk told her.

  The nurse was fat, with bleached blonde hair in an upsweep. Sally knew it was bleached because the black roots were showing along the part, like when Mom needed a touch-up. She had two chins and a huge bosom, the kind that went straight across her chest with no space in-between. “Good morning …” she sang, taking the folder from Mom. “And who do we have here?” She looked inside the folder. “Sally Freedman?” she asked, as if she were guessing.

  “Yes,” Sally said.

  “Just get in from New York?”

  “New Jersey …” How did she know?

  “Okay, Sally … your mother can wait right here while you come with me …” They went into another room. It smelled like alcohol. There were small cots lined up against the wall, with white curtains between them. In the corner was a doctor’s scale and next to it, a glass cabinet filled with bandages, bottles and instruments. Sally hoped she wasn’t going to get a shot.

  “Shoes off, Sally … and step on the scale,” the nurse said. As she weighed her she added, “Don’t eat much, do you?”

  “Enough,” Sally answered.

  “Not very tall either.” The nurse adjusted the marker so that it just touched the top of Sally’s head.

  “I’m still growing,” Sally said.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  After that the nurse handed Sally a piece of cardboard. “Cover your left eye, look at the chart on the wall and tell me which way the E is pointing … up, down, left or right …”

  “Don’t you have the alphabet here? At home we have charts with all the letters …”

  “Up, down, left or right … if you don’t know your left from your right just point …”

  “I know my left from my right,” Sally said and she began to read the chart. “Up … left … right … up … down …”

  When both her eyes had been tested and the nurse was satisfied that Sally could see, she said, “Now have a seat and unbraid your hair.”

  “But my mother just fixed it for me …”

  “And it looks very pretty … but I have to check your head before you can be admitted to class, so the sooner you take down those braids the sooner you can get going …”