Sugar House (9780991192519) (16 page)

The boys left the theater completely
satisfied that they'd spent their twenty cents correctly. It was
only four-thirty, but the sun was beginning to set. November
sunsets come early in Detroit, and the air was cold and damp.

"Come on Joe! Let's go to one more
place!"

"We'd better not, Sam. I don't want to get
into trouble."

"Aw, come on. It's on the way home." Sam
started running down the sidewalk, dodging baby carriages and
shoppers. Joe hurried to keep up but could not. His lungs were
burning. He had to slow down to a walk. Sam was out of sight in
five seconds. Wandering down the crowded sidewalk, he searched for
a familiar landmark. Suddenly someone grabbed him by the back of
his collar and pulled him off the sidewalk into a store.

"Hey!" he yelled turning to knuckle his
abductor, stopping when he saw it was Sam.

"How you gonna run around the bases tomorrow
at the game if you can't keep up with me for a block?"

"Don't worry about me. I can beat you in
baseball any day of the week. Hey, where are we?" Joe asked looking
around.

"The palace of sweets—Sanders
Confectionery!"

Joe looked around and grabbed a chair at a
small rectangular wooden table near the front door while Sam went
to the counter to order.

"Pretty nice in here," Joe commented when Sam
returned.

"Yeah, my mom told me that the fountain over
there on the back wall won a prize or something at the World's Fair
in Chicago in 1893."

"Boy, that thing is really old," Joe
said.

A waiter in a red-and-white-striped apron
brought over two tall glasses and set them on the table with cloth
napkins and spoons. "Anything else, young men?" he said, smiling
down at the two boys.

"No sir," they replied in unison.

"What is this?" asked Joe.

"Ice cream soda—you never heard of it? Mr.
Sanders invented it right here in Detroit. Best thing you ever
tasted. Dig in, Joe!"

Joe picked up his spoon and took a bite. Sam
was right. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. Sweet and
tingly and spicy all at the same time. The boys ate every bite and
thought about ordering another to share, but Joe wanted to get
home. As they parted on their block Joe called out, "Thanks for the
movie and ice cream soda, Sam!"

"No problem, Joe! See you at the dance!"

Joe's mother was getting dressed upstairs when he
entered the house. His father was sitting in the living room
waiting for her to finish getting ready. The smell of onions hung
in the air from the supper that Joe had missed.

"Getting home kinda late, Joe?" his father
said, as Joe hung up his coat and hat in the front hallway.

"Yes sir. Sorry I missed supper."

"Matka left some for you in the icebox. Go
and eat."

"Thank you sir, I'm not hungry. I'll eat
later."

"Well, go on and get cleaned up for the
dance. Matka was worried you wouldn't be back in time to go with
us."

Joe climbed the stairs to his bedroom to
change his shirt. Matka met him at the top of the stairs. "Joe!
You're so flushed. Come let me feel your head." Joe obliged his
mother and let her take his temperature with the back of her
hand.

"You are very warm! Are you feeling ill?" she
questioned.

"Just a little tired. Sam and I ran around a
lot."

"But your eyes are glassy. I don't think you
should go to the dance. Come downstairs and I'll get you a cold
cloth for your head and a drink of water."

The kitchen was warm from the stove. Joe was
sweating. He drank the water and sat at the table with the cool
cloth covering his forehead.

"I feel fine, Matka. Please let me go to the
dance."

"I don't think so, Joe. I think you might be
coming down with something. If you want to play in that baseball
game tomorrow, you had better stay home and get some rest."

"Yes, Ma'am." Joe was disappointed to miss
the dance, but honestly he was extremely tired from the excitement
of the day and a silly dance was not worth missing the baseball
game.

"Eat your supper and you'll feel better," she
said, putting a plate of pork and onions in front of him. Joe knew
if he told his mother he was not hungry she would worry more, so he
feebly took a few bites to appease her.

"See? I am fine, Matka. Go to the dance and
leave Frank here with me so you can have a good time. I'll put him
to bed and go to sleep." Joe's mother was so excited she didn't
have to drag Frank to the dance that there was no further talk of
Joe's fever. An hour after his parents had bustled out the door,
Joe took Frank up to their room and read him a short children's
story from the newspaper. The paper published a one-page story
every Saturday, and Joe had kept the paper under his mattress to
read at night. Frank liked the story and quickly fell asleep, as
did Joe. He awoke a couple hours later extremely thirsty. He was
surprised to find his parents were still not home when he went to
the kitchen for a drink.
They must be having a good time
, he
thought, climbing the stairs back to bed. Joe quickly fell back
asleep dreaming of fly balls and running the bases.

When Joe awoke the next morning, he felt
better and he hurriedly got dressed and ran downstairs to the
kitchen. His parents were still sleeping, so he decided to whip up
breakfast, hoping to prove that his illness of the night before had
run its course. There was a definite chill in the air as he stepped
off the back porch toward the water pump. But the sky was blue and
clear and had the promise of a nice day. As he finished filling his
bucket, his cousin Marya walked down her family's steps to use the
pump.

"Morning, Marya," Joe said, trying to stay on
her good side today.

"Good morning, Joe. Missed you at the dance
last night. Aunt Blanca said you were ill. Are you sick or were you
too scared to go because you don't know how to dance?"

"Neither. Just didn't feel like watching you
fawn all over Tall Paul all night," he replied as he grabbed her
bucket and began to fill it for her.

"Joe Jopolowski! You had better stop
spreading false rumors. And Paul is a nice Polish boy. He'd better
not hear about you talking like that about me. He will beat your
brains out."

"Sure, Marya. Here's your water. Are you
coming to the baseball game? I think Paul is playing."

"I hope to, but I have to help my mother make
the picnic lunch and watch Emilia."

"You want to watch baseball? You hate
baseball. Boy, you must
love
Tall Paul."

Marya grabbed her bucket of water and turned
to walk back into the house. When she reached the first step she
turned and looked at Joe. "No, I really like watching strikeouts,
and with you playing there should be about a hundred!" With that,
Marya walked up the stairs into her house. Joe wondered why he ever
tried to be civil to his cousin.

He grabbed some wood by the shed. Balancing
the wood and the water bucket wasn't easy, but he managed to get
both into the kitchen. He lit a fire in the stove. While the stove
was warming up, he gathered the eggs from the chicken coop. Mikołaj
and Blanca came to the kitchen as Joe was finishing scrambling the
eggs

"Joe, you made breakfast!" Matka said. "You
must be feeling better. Thank you, kochanie (my baby). Let me feel
your forehead."

"I'm fine, Matka. I was just a little tired
yesterday. You were right. I just needed some rest." Joe knew that
by telling his mother she was right, he could avoid having her
check his temperature.

Frank wandered down the stairs still looking
sleepy, his bright blond hair sticking up like a porcupine's
quills. "Hungry," was all he said. Ojciec picked up Frank and set
him at the table. Matka buttered the toast that Joe had made on the
stove and gave him a piece. They bowed their heads to bless the
food before them and dug in.

"Did you have a good time last night?" Joe
asked his parents.

"Oh yes!" Matka replied. "It was a lovely
dance. The band played wonderfully. I haven't heard such good
polkas since we left Poland. Ojciec and I danced for hours! I'm not
sure what time we even got home."

"After one o'clock. Your mother was like a
teenager again. 'Just one more dance, Mikołaj, one more.' The only
reason I got her home was the band packed up and left. My legs are
going to be aching for a week!" He laughed. "Not sure I am in any
shape to play baseball this afternoon."

"Sure you will, Ojciec! You are the strongest
man I know," replied Joe.

"Thanks for the assurance, Joe. Well, I'm not
as old as your Uncle Alexy, and he's playing today too. When your
mother finally gave me a break from the dance floor I talked him
into to it."

Matka said, "I'll get the dishes, Joe. Why
don't you run off and get ready for your game. Thanks for getting
up and making breakfast. It's quite a treat for me to sleep in.
Good luck at your game. I will bring Frank later with the picnic
lunch and watch the end of it."

Joe didn't need any further encouragement to
leave for the ball field. Grabbing his coat and hat, he ran out the
door and down the sidewalk toward the park. The sun was beginning
to warm the air, and he could no longer see his breath. Halfway to
the park, he began to feel winded and slowed down to a fast walk.
Must still be a little tired
, he told himself. When he got
to the corner park, several boys were already tossing a ball around
and warming up.

"Hey Joe!" one his friends called. Joe joined
them and quickly forgot about being tired, as he threw the ball and
took some warm-up swings with a borrowed bat. Father Gatowski
pulled up in his horse and carriage half an hour later. The round
priest was dressed all in black except for a Tigers baseball cap
perched on his head. The boys giggled to themselves at the sight of
the monsignor in a baseball cap.

"Let's play ball!" He sorted the boys out
into two even teams of nine. Joe's team was first up to bat, and he
sat down on the sideline to cheer on his friends. Tall Paul was
pitching for the other team, and his throwing arm was in excellent
shape today. The first boy got on base, but he was left stranded
after the next three batters struck out.

Joe's team took to the field. Joe, being one
of the younger players, was stuck in the outfield. The first two
batters were tagged out at first, and the third struck out. Joe's
team ran off the field laughing. Joe yelled, "We hardly had time to
get into position."

Joe was first up to bat. Standing at home
plate, he looked small and unintimidating. Tall Paul's first pitch
sailed by him. The catcher on the other team called, "Move in! He
can't hit." Joe dug his feet into the dirt and grabbed the bat,
hands apart like he'd seen the Georgia Peach do. The next pitch
came high, and Father Gatowski called a ball. Tall Paul threw a low
slider and Joe swung the bat at the right moment. The ball went
over the first baseman's head and stayed fair. He sped off toward
first base and was safe. His team cheered. Tall Paul looked
impressed. Sam was up next and hit a ground ball back to Paul. He
was out at first base, but Joe slid safely into second.

Joe pondered stealing third. He stepped off
the base to get a lead. Tall Paul threw to second, and Joe slid
back just in time. Leading off closer to the base this time, he
watched a boy a couple years older take a couple of practice
swings. Tall Paul threw a fastball, and the boy hit it over Joe's
head. Joe took off toward third. He rounded the base and headed
home. Feet first, Joe slid into home and his team took the lead.
The runner was batted in and Joe's team was up 2-0.

Joe was sweating as he jogged to the outfield
for the bottom of the second inning. The sun was beaming down, and
he wiped his brow with his cap. Tall Paul's team scored one run and
the game was getting off to a competitive start.

Joes' family came to watch as the game
entered the bottom of the eighth inning. Tall Paul's team had
pushed ahead 4-2. Blanca laid a blanket down and began to set up
the picnic lunch as she observed the game. Frank ran off toward the
swings and Mikołaj joined a group of men who were already watching
the game. The crowd was growing, and the excitement and cheering
were rising in the park. The boys' intensity increased as Father
Gatowski called out three strikes for Tall Paul's team and the
ninth inning got under way.

Joe was up to bat. He walked nervously toward
home plate. The other team backed up slightly, and Joe suppressed a
grin. Tall Paul threw a spitball, and Joe let it fly by.

"Strike!" Father called. Joe looked at
Ojciec, who winked back at him. Tall Paul threw a low ball enticing
Joe to pop up, but Joe knew that was the pitcher's plan. He swung
the bat around grabbing it with both hands and lightly bunted it
toward the pitcher's mound. Joe took off down the baseline and was
safe before Paul had retrieved the ball. The crowd cheered. Joe
panted and smiled at his father. Sam was up next and hit a low ball
toward the shortstop. Joe ran toward second. Halfway down the base
line he felt his lungs suddenly seize up and he had to slow down.
Father Gatowski called him out. Joe walked back toward the first
base line and sat down hard on the grass.

Joe's teammates patted him on the shoulder
and head, saying "It's okay, Joe," and "Nice try, Joe." Joe was
angry he hadn't run faster but brushed it off to watch the end of
the game. Sam made it home from a grounder to right field, but the
game ended 4-3.

Tall Paul and his team ran around the bases,
whooping and hollering. Father Gatowski declared them the champions
of the St. Josaphat Boys' Baseball Game and gave each a baseball as
an award. Joe hadn't known there would be a prize. He was even more
dejected as he watched the team congratulate themselves and throw
their new balls in the air.