the stairs.
"It's Haille," Aunt Sara said. "Hurry, it's long
distance."
I rushed to the living room. Uncle Jacob sat in
his chair, smoking his pipe and thumbing through a
mail-order catalogue. He glanced at me and then back
at his pages, but he didn't get up. Aunt Sara stood in
the doorway, watching. I would have no privacy for
this phone call. Nevertheless, I seized the receiver.
"Mommy?"
"Hi Honey. See, I told you I would call you
first chance I got. Aunt Sara says you've already
started school there and you said you were right up
with the work."
"Yes, Mommy. Where are you?"
"We're on our way to New York City," she said
excitedly. Her voice dropped. "The people in Boston
weren't available when they told Richard they would
be so we never met them, but he has people for me to
meet in New York and then in Chicago. After that
we'll head for Los Angeles."
"Los Angeles? But Mommy, when will I. . .
when will we be together again?" I asked my question
as quietly as I could.
"Soon, honey. Real soon, I promise."
"I could still meet you someplace, Mommy. I
could take a bus and--"
"Now don't make things harder than they are
for me, honey. I've already suffered a serious
disappointment, Please, cooperate."
"But I need my things," I said. "You didn't
leave me any money, Mommy. I can't call my friends.
I can't call Alice or Mama Arlene. It's long distance." "I'm calling Mama Arlene as soon as I get to
New York," she promised. I heard a horn blaring and
some-one shouting.
"Coming!" Mommy shouted back. "I've got to
go, honey. I've already held us up longer than I should have. I'll call you as soon as I can. Be good, honey.
Bye."
"But Mommy--"
The phone went dead. I held it tightly'. Silent
screams stuck in my throat and tears froze behind my
eyes.
"Hang it up properly," Uncle Jacob instructed.
"I'm waitin' on an important call."
I cradled the receiver with my back to him and
walked out of the living room quickly, not glancing at
Aunt Sara either.
"Just a minute, there," Uncle Jacob growled.
"Get yourself right back in here, young lady." I sucked in my breath, turned, and marched
back. My heart thudded madly, drumming out a tune
of fright in my ribcage.
"Yes sir?"
"It's proper to thank people when you use their
things. Sara ain't your secretary."
"I'm sorry. Thank you, Aunt Sara."
"You're welcome, dear. Is everything all right
with HaiIle?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Good."
"Humph," Uncle Jacob grunted.
"I'll bring you a glass of hot milk tonight," she
offered. "You don't have to do that, Aunt Sara." "I always brought Laura a glass of warm milk. I
bring one to May as well." Her huge scared eyes
stared woefully at me. I glanced at Uncle Jacob. He
looked ready to pounce.
"Oh, then thank you, Aunt Sara."
Her face brightened, the darkness evaporating
from her eyes. I forced a smile and hurried up the
stairway. When I reached my room, I closed the door
behind me and threw myself on the bed, burying my
face in the pillow to smother my sobs.
I didn't want to be here! I hated it! No wonder
my father stopped speaking to his family. He was
nothing like Uncle Jacob. I would be happier if
Mommy had dumped me in an orphanage, I thought.
My shoulders shook with my muted crying. Suddenly,
I felt something touch my shoulder and I turned
quickly to see little May staring at me, her face full of
fear and sympathy. She had come in so quietly that I
had not heard her. Her hands moved rapidly,
wondering why I was so unhappy. What made me
cry?
"I miss my mother," I said. She tilted her head.
I let out a deep breath and located the book on sign language. I found the gestures and produced them. May nodded and signed how sorry she felt for me.
Then she offered me a hug.
How sweet, I thought, and how sad that the
only one in this house who made me feel at home was
the only one who couldn't hear the sound of my voice. Nor could she hear the sounds of scuffling and
footsteps above, but she saw where my gaze had gone
and understood.
"Car . . ry," she said and demonstrated the construction of a model ship.
"Yes. Do you go up there?" I signed. "Or
doesn't he even let you up there?"
She thought a moment and then shook her head.
"No?"
She shook her head and gestured "only.. ." She
pointed to Laura's photograph.
"Only Laura?" May nodded. "Only Laura," I
thought aloud and gazed at the ceiling. May grunted
and then signed about his great sorrow.
I gazed at the ceiling again. Cary was in pain, I
thought, and for a moment at least, I stopped feeling
sorry for myself.
May returned to her room to complete her
school work. After I finished mine, we practiced sign language until it was time for her to go to bed. I washed and dressed for bed myself and then Aunt Sara brought my glass of warm milk. There was something rolled under her arm. She took it out and showed me Laura's unfinished canvas of needlework. It was a picture of a woman on a widow's walk gazing
at the sea.
"Laura drew the picture herself," Aunt Sara explained. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes," I said.
"Don't you want to finish it for her, dear? I can't
get myself to do it," she said with a deep sigh. "I'd be afraid I would mess it up, Aunt Sara." "Oh, you won't, I'm sure. just leave it here and
bring up the threads tomorrow and show you the
stitch."
"I never did something like that before," I said,
but she didn't seem to hear or care.
"My goodness," she said, her gaze falling on
the two nearly identical stuffed cats. "Where did this
one come from?"
"It was mine, a present from my daddy. I
brought it with me in my suitcase."
"Isn't that remarkable. Cary won the other one
for Laura at a fair one summer. And this Teddy bear
you brought along, too?"
"Yes."
"Geminis," she said. "All of you."
She gazed around the room sadly, looked at me,
smiled and then left, after wishing me a good night's
rest.
I was tired. It had been an exhausting day, my
emotions on a rollercoaster. I had gone through the
tunnel of fear, been angry, sad, and curious. I enjoyed
being with little May and appreciated that she
sincerely welcomed me. That was the only ray of
sunshine in this gloomy world of sadness.
Impulsively, I picked up my fiddle and played a
mournful tune. It was the mood I felt and the music
came from deep within me. I closed my eyes and
pictured Daddy sitting on the sofa in our trailer living
room, a small smile on his face, his eyes full of pride
as I playe
d. Afterward, he would pull me to him and
give me one of his bear hugs, smothering my cheek
and forehead with kisses.
Suddenly, there was a loud rapping on the wall.
"Stop that noise!" Uncle Jacob ordered. "It's time for
everyone to sleep!"
My memories of Daddy popped like soap
bubbles. I put away the fiddle and crawled under the comforter. Then I turned down the oil lamp, closed my eyes, and listened to the roar of the ocean. The house was very quiet for a few moments, and then I heard what I recognized as the distinct sound of
someone sobbing.
"Just go to sleep!" Uncle Jacob commanded
gruffly, his voice seemingly coming out of the walls. The sobbing stopped.
The ocean came roaring through my window
again, the same ocean that had taken Laura from this
house and the melancholy world in which I now found
myself.
Following Aunt Sara's instructions the next
morning, I made lunches for both Cary and myself. It
was something Laura always had done and I assumed
it was to be one of my chores. We were to have a
sandwich and an apple, and we were given fifty cents
to buy a drink. May's lunch was provided for her at
the special school.
When we left the house, May took my hand
instead of Cary's. He paused for a moment, visibly
annoyed, but said nothing about it.
"Let's go. We don't want to be late," he
muttered and plodded along ahead of us, moving so
quickly, May practically had to run to keep up. We dropped her off first and then started for our school. I
tried to make conversation.
"How long have you been constructing model
ships?" I asked. He glanced at me as if I had asked a
stupid question.
"A long time and they're not toys," he added. "I didn't say they were. I know grown-ups can
have hobbies, too. Papa George used to carve out
flutes from hickory branches. He even made my
fiddle."
"Why do you call this person Papa George?" he
said disdainfully. "He's not your grandfather. This
Sunday you'll meet your grandfather."
"Papa George is the only grandfather I've
known. He and Mama Arlene are my real
grandparents as far as I'm concerned," I replied firmly. "Don't they have any children of their own?" "So why didn't HaiIle leave you with them
while she went rushing off to become a movie star?"
he asked, his eyes sparkling wickedly.
"Papa George is very sick. He suffers from
black lung," I replied.
He grunted. "That's a convenient excuse," he
said. Furious, I seized him at the elbow and pulled
him to a stop, spinning him around. He was genuinely shocked at my outburst of physical strength. I shocked
myself.
"It's not an excuse. He's very sick. I don't know
why you don't like me, Cary Logan, and the truth is, I
don't care to know. If that's the way it has to be, that's
the way it has to be, but don't think I'll let you ridicule
me or say bad things about the people I love." He went from astonishment and shock to what
looked like appreciation and pleasure, before
returning to his stoic self.
"I can't be late for school," he said. "I already
have two demerits."
He walked on and I hurried to catch up. "You have two demerits? What for?"
He was silent.
"What did you do?" I pursued, keeping pace
with him. I was curious what possible infraction of the
rules Mr. Perfect could have committed.
"Fighting," he finally replied.
"I wonder why that comes as no surprise?" I
said. I couldn't resist.
He glared at me and I thought if looks could
kill, I'd be long dead and buried. Then he pumped his
legs harder, remaining a foot or two ahead of me the
rest of the way to school.
Theresa Patterson was friendly and spoke to me
between classes, but since she didn't have to be my
guide any longer, she stayed with her own friends.
She didn't have to say it, but I knew if she brought me
along, her friends might resent it. Just as in my
school, and probably in most schools, clumps of girls
and boys clung to each other in cliques, feeling safer
and more comfort-able hanging around with those
whom they perceived to be their own kind.
At lunch I sat at a table alone until Lorraine,
Janet, and Betty brought themselves and two other
girls over to join me. I saw by the mischievous
twinkle in Betty's eyes that they had been plotting
something.
"So after nearly two days here, how do you like
our school?" Lorraine asked innocently.
"It's okay. The teachers are nice," I said. "Are the boys better looking than the boys in
West Virginia?" Janet asked.
"I haven't had a chance to look," I said. When
they all looked skeptical, I added, "It's hard starting
someplace new during the last quarter of the year. I've
got to take the same finals you will take."
One of the new girls looked sympathetic, but
Betty tucked in the corner of her mouth and said, "You don't look like you're going to have a problem
with schoolwork."
"Grandpa might have a problem, though," Janet
said. "He's barely passing. He might not graduate, I
hear."
"Billy Wilkins told me Grandpa is going to fail
English," Lorraine said nodding.
"Maybe you can tutor him," Betty suggested.
"That's right, like show him how to do it," Janet said.
They all laughed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. The
girls glanced at each other and ate.
"Do you sleep in the same room?" Betty asked
me. "Same room?"
"With Grandpa? We heard Laura and Cary slept
in the same room ever since they were born." "Of course not," I said. "And they didn't." "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Lorraine
said.
"Laura had a very nice room. That's the room I
use. None of you have ever been in my aunt and
uncle's house?"
"No," Betty said.
"Laura was a very strange girl," Janet offered.
"That whole family's strange."
"She didn't want to do anything with girls her
age,"
Lorraine said. "She was like an old lady--
cooking, cleaning, canning fruit with her mother." "I hardly saw her at any of our dances," Janet
complained.
"Robert Royce was the only boyfriend she ever
had," Lorraine said.
"Unfortunate for him," Betty added.
"Whereas, Grandpa has never been with anyone
we know," Janet said.
"Now we have someone who will tell
us,"Lorraine said, eyeing me. "Tell us, Melody." "Tell you what?"
"Does Grandpa spend a lot of time in the
bathroom, maybe sneaking in with girlie magazines?" More laughter. The blood rushed to my neck
and face. "When he goes to sleep, do you hear the
bedsprings squeaking?" Betty continued. The girls
giggled.
"You're all disgusting," I said. Their laughter
stopped.
"Oh come on, Melody. I'm sure you're curious
/>
about him, too," Janet said.
"He's not bad looking," Lorraine offered gazing across the cafeteria at Cary. He stared back at us. "Maybe you can get him to loosen up, relax. We could
help you."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
The girls were quiet a moment, all eyes on the
teacher monitor. Betty nodded at Lorraine. She
opened her school bag, which she had set between me
and her, and took something out quickly. Then she
pressed it into my hand. I gazed down at what looked
like one of Papa George's self-rolled cigarettes. "I don't smoke," I said.
"That's not a cigarette, stupid," Betty said. "And
keep it below the table so Mr. Rotter doesn't see." "What is it?"
"It's a joint," Lorraine whispered loudly. "I don't want it," I said and tried to give it back,
but she pushed my hand away.
"Just keep it in case you get a chance to offer it
to Grandpa. It'll loosen him up."
"Just tell us what happens, that's all," Betty
said. "Put it away, quick," Lorraine said as Mr. Rotter
started down the aisle between the tables.
Little butterflies of panic fluttered in my head.
Gazing around, it seemed as if everyone were looking
at me, waiting to see what I would do.
"Hello, girls," Mr. Rotter said smiling down at
us.
"Are you making our new student feel at
home?"
"Yes, Mr. Rotter," Lorraine fluttered her
eyelids. "Is that true, Melody?" he asked me. I was afraid my voice would crack. "Yes sir," I
said. "Good. Good." He continued through the
cafeteria. I let out my breath.
"Very nice. You did well," Betty said. The
other girls apparently agreed.
"We're having a beach party Saturday night.
We'll meet about eight at Janet's house. You want to
come? It will be a chance for you to meet some
normal boys," Betty said.
"I don't know if I can. I'll ask my aunt." "Don't tell her where you're going," Janet said,
"or she won't let you come. Just say you're coming
over to my house to study for a test. That always
works."
"I don't like to lie," I said.
She smirked. "You haven't been living with the
Logans long. After a while, you'll get to like it." The bell signalled the end of lunch period.
Everyone rose to leave. I was the last to get up, not realizing until that moment, that I still had the joint of marijuana clutched in my hand. I dropped it into my sandwich bag and then dropped the bag in the garbage
can on the way out of the cafeteria.
At the doorway, someone bumped into me
hard, and I turned to look into the most perfect face I