Last Night at the Blue Angel (36 page)

BOOK: Last Night at the Blue Angel
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The hard-hat man smiles and shakes his head.
Now
,
ma'am
,
ain't nobody been in this building for six months
. He pats her arm with his big gloved hand and points to the doors and windows at street level, talking to her like she's a child.
See there? She's all boarded up
.

I move myself in front of Mother.
I've been in it. I was just in it last month
.

He looks at me and tilts his head.
I don't think so
.

I have so!
I shout.
You don't know!

He raises his arms to the side.
Why don't you two girls head on home now
.

I zip around him and run for the building. He tries to follow me, yelling,
Hey! Kid
,
you come back here this minute!

I go straight for Jim's secret entrance and slide the small pallet of boards off the opening. Inside there is only dust and darkness, and I try to walk, feeling my way through the mess with my feet, my arms outstretched and reaching. I try to remember what way we went but I'm so scared I can't think or tell where I am at all. Through the commotion, I can hear Mother's voice calling my name. Then my arm runs into a railing and I grab the banister, turn myself around it, and head up the stairs. I get pretty far until somebody snags me like a cat, carrying me down and back outside.

The hard-hat guy sets me down on the pavement and crouches in front of me.
You telling me the truth that you been in there recently?
Mother rushes over to us.

I cry and cough.
He could be in there. Please
,
pretty please
, I say.

This better not be some kinda prank
. He points at me.

How dare you?
says Mother.

I'm telling the truth
, I say.

He stands and puts his hands on his hips.
Shit
. He walks over to a group of men and talks to them. They look at us and at the building. Then they all go to Jim's secret entrance and file in one at a time.

Mother and I sit on the curb and wait. She holds me, rocks me, and hums a little. Now that I've started crying, I can't stop. A fire truck arrives and some police cars.

It starts to get dark. A policeman walks up to us and asks Mother a lot of questions. What does Jim look like? What was he wearing last time you saw him, on and on.
And what was he taking pictures of exactly?

Mother looks at me.

The railings
,
windows
,
little beautiful things
, I say.

He frowns at me and says,
I see
.

He tells us to go home and promises to let us know if they find anything.
I seriously doubt that your boyfriend is in this building
,
ma'am
, he says as we begin to leave. Mother looks at me and nods, trying to smile. I look away.

At home we sit in the living room with the lights off. We don't want to see or talk or eat or anything. We just wait.

Hours pass and the apartment is almost black. The only light is the light leaking in from the street and the flaring tip of Mother's cigarette.

Then there's a knock on the door.

We don't move.

Mother breathes heavily. Then she bends over, holds her head, and makes a sound.

I walk toward the door, stop to turn on a lamp, and open it. It's the policeman who talked to us. He turns his hat in his hands.

He seems to not know what to say. We just look at each other. He swallows.
Is your ma here?

I am frozen.

He steps closer.
Sweetie
,
is your ma home?

I hear her get up and take a few steps toward us but not all the way.

He looks at her and thinks very hard about every word he chooses.
Ma'am. We have uncovered . . . a man we believe to be your friend. There is a chance it's not. But he fits the description you gave me exactly
.

She moves silently back into the room.

I'm sorry
, he says, looking down at me. He shakes his head and walks away.

I stand there staring at the hallway for a long time while Mother makes terrible, painful sounds in the dark. In between, when she's catching her breath, I hear the hallway lights buzz. I can't shut the door. I will wait forever. And watch. I will stand here all night.

CHAPTER 52

A
LL THE NEXT
day, Mother doesn't leave her room and I stay home from school. In the afternoon, I sit at Mother's desk and write a note to
Look
magazine telling them what happened to Jim. I think it's their fault, though I don't say that. I place the note in his box of photos and take it downstairs. Sal is at the front desk, so I ask him how to get to the post office.

You need to mail that?

Yes
.

You got money for postage?

I look at the box, uncertain.

Let me take it for you
. He reaches out to take the box.

It's very important
, I say, before I let him have it.

Okay
,
kid
.

Thank you
,
Sal
.

I go back up to the dark apartment and sit. Sister shows up around four.

Why weren't you in school? Are you ill?
She walks in and turns on a light.
What's going on here? Honey
,
talk to me
.

I stare at her. Her face gets stern.
Sophia!

I want to tell her and believe I can somehow divide the pain if I can tell her but I cannot speak.

What on earth
, she says to herself as she walks into Mother's room. I stand in the hall and listen to them, to the clock on the shelf, to the horns on the street. I walk to the window and it's the same as always—cars, yelling, honking, wind, the El—like nothing has happened, like everything is fine.

Sophia
, says Sister when she eventually comes out. Her eyes are red and her voice shakes.
I would like you to gather up some things. You're going to stay with Rita and me for a few days. Mama needs to rest
. She walks into my room and pulls my blue-and-green-flowered suitcase out of my closet.

Help me
, she says.

I hand her my uniform skirt, blouse, and shoes, and my nuclear-fallout book. I start to hand her the Heathkit from Jim but decide I want to hold on to it.

Before we leave, I check on Mother. She's barefaced with all her freckles showing.

Just a few days
, she says.
You need to be taken care of right now
.

W
hen we arrive at Sister's apartment, Rita says,
I just heard
.

Can I speak to you alone?
says Sister.

After talking awhile, they come out of the bedroom and Rita walks to me with her arms open. She hugs me, sniffling. Sister stands nearby with her eyes closed.

Are you talking to God?
I ask her.

She nods and I stare at her. There is no such thing, there is no such thing, there is no such thing. Sister opens her eyes and looks at me like she heard my private thoughts. I look away.

Do you have a bomb shelter here?
I ask.

Sister and Rita look at each other. Sister shakes her head no but Rita stops her.

Of course it does
, says Rita.
Come with me
. She grabs her keys and we leave.

I follow her down several sets of stairs and through a door. It's dark. She flips on the light and there is a long aisle lined with cages, each cage has a padlock on it. We walk down the aisle, looking in the cages. They are full of stuff, some more than others. Furniture, boxes, lamps, a few lanterns, rolled-up rugs, Christmas decorations, crates of records.

What is all this?
I ask.

Stuff we might need
, says Rita.
After the bomb
.

I look into the cages. A box of toys. A bassinette. A guitar case.

Do you feel better?
says Rita.

I don't know how to tell her that I will never feel better for the rest of my life. She rests her hand on my back.
Let's go back upstairs
.
Bomb shelters do nothing for the spirit
,
do they?

Sister makes noodles and butter and I eat three helpings. She asks,
When did you last eat?
I shrug.

The apartment is small but there is a large closet. I take Jim's Heathkit into the closet with me and rest my hand on it. I just sit there and listen to myself breathe.

CHAPTER 53

M
Y FAMILY—MOTHER
, Sister, Rita, David, Laura, Hilda, and the people from the Blue Angel—take up one whole row at the funeral home. Jim's body is in a casket in the front and people walk in and go straight up to see him. I want to go but I'm sitting in the middle of the row and everyone is arguing in whispers about whether or not it's right to let a child view the body. Sister is on my left and Mother is on my right. Sister rests her hand on my leg.
Whatever they decide
,
if you move
,
I will catch you. You are not going up there
.

I want to see him
, I say.

Look at me. He is not there. We are spirit and light and love. That is what we are. What is up there is just a body
.

I push her hand off my leg and think of Jim's mustache and glasses and his crooked bottom teeth and the little stains on his fingers from cigarettes and the way his hair went every which way.
I never know what you're talking about
, I tell Sister without looking at her and hide my face with my hands and cry.

Toward the end of the little service Mother walks to the front, resting her hand on the end of each pew as she goes, like she might fall down.

Sister closes her eyes like Mother is going to sing a prayer for us. Mother sings,
“Black is the color of my true love's hair. His face so kind and wondrous fair. The purest eyes and the strongest hands. I love the ground on where he stands.”

The sad in her voice pulls the sad out of me, out of all of us.

After the service, I stand with Mother in the parking lot.

I could come home with you
, I say.

She puts her hand on my shoulder, which means no.
You need more than I have right now
.

No
,
I don't. When did I ever need anything?
I raise my voice. She hugs me.

Soon
, she says.
Be patient for me
,
okay, kitten?
I watch her walk away and she seems unsteady, like her heels are too tall or her dress too tight. David catches up to her but she waves him away.

B
ack at the apartment that afternoon, Sister and Rita decide I should go to school. When I get there the next day, Elizabeth has a thousand questions.
Please don't make me talk about it
, I say to her.

I'm sorry
, she says, resting her hand on my arm, thinking about what to say next.
My mother has raised the ban on our friendship. Temporarily
.
So that's one good thing
.

Elizabeth stays right by my side, like she's guarding me. She doesn't leave my side for days.

One day while I'm at school, Rita shoves all the coats and wraps in the closet to the back, pushes the hatboxes to the side, puts a cushion on the floor and a small lamp, and makes a little desk out of a stack of photography books.
Stay in there as long as you like
, she says. I go in and look around. I like my secret room but it also seems to mean that I'm going to be here for a while, which nobody has actually said out loud. I look at my Heathkit and I want to put it together so bad. I just know if I can build that radio, I will be okay. I just know it and cannot wait another day.

Rita is smoking on the couch. I grab the instruction booklet for the Heathkit and put it in front of her face.

Yes?
she says.

Can you help me figure this out?

She squints at it like it's something dead.

No
,
darling
,
I cannot. You know I don't do these sorts of things
.

Can't you try?
I ask.

Why are you asking me? Why not Idalia?

You're the only man in this house
, I say, resting my finger on the head of the dad on the cover of the Heathkit manual.

I feel Rita staring at me. I wonder if she's breathing at all. Neither of us moves for a while.

I know what you're doing
, she says.

I'm not doing anything
, I tell her.

You're mad
.

I am not
, I say.

CHAPTER 54

O
N WEDNESDAYS, AFTER
school, I go to Elizabeth's house on the South Side, where all the Negro folks live. Sometimes Mrs. LaFontaine fixes my hair. It's the first time my hair has looked good in my whole life.

Mr. LaFontaine says,
How's that Heathkit coming along?
and Mrs. LaFontaine gives him a sharp face, like no one is supposed to say anything that will make me think of Jim.

Not so good
, I say.
The diagrams are hard
.

Oh
,
not really
, he says, tossing a yellow notebook on the table and sitting down in front of it.

He draws a diagram that makes more sense to me than the one in the manual. Then he explains what all the parts do—resistors, capacitors, diodes, transistors—and how to read the chart so I know where they go.

Is this what sociologists do?
I ask him.

He thinks.
In a word
,
yes
.

I work on the radio as soon as I get home. Sister peeks in to see if I'm doing my homework and just smiles when she sees that I'm working. She and Rita have an argument about how I'm falling behind and how they're responsible for me now.

Sister says,
Let her do what she needs to do
.

You coddle her
.
Did that go so well with Naomi? No
,
it did not
, Rita says as she marches around the apartment in heels, watering the plants with a bright pink watering can.

BOOK: Last Night at the Blue Angel
11.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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