“Hey, Michael,” he called.
I turned to see who called me, but then kept on walking. He caught up to me.
“Hey, can you wait up a minute?”
I kept walking.
“I just wanted to say I was sorry. That’s all. If you don’t wanna talk to me no more, that’s okay.” He shouted down the hall after me, “I just wanted to say I was sorry before you stopped talkin’ to me, that’s all.” He tailed off his last few words.
I reached the door to leave, then turned back. Eddie was already walking in the opposite direction. The old man was sitting by himself, I thought, because he had no friends. He never talked to anybody, so he was always alone.
“Eddie!” I shouted.
He turned around. He smiled the biggest smile and ran toward me.
Eddie and I were friends from then on. Some of the other kids apologized to me, and I accepted. I still didn’t have very much time to do anything but schoolwork and extra lessons, but I did get asked to play tag and Johnny-ride-the-pony at lunchtime.
Sal told me he was very proud of me for not holding a grudge. He told me holding grudges was easier than forgiving. He was right, too. I didn’t really like accepting some of the apologies, but I did and I felt good that I did, later.
It was late in March when Sister Gerard handed me a note.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s for Mr. Frazier.”
“Is it a report card?”
“No,” she said. “Just give it to him. It’s from Sister Regina.”
I worried all day about the note. I couldn’t wait to find out what it said.
At dinnertime I gave the note to Mr. Frazier.
“He was probably kicked out of school,” Donald said into his plate.
“If the note came from you, I’d agree,” he said.
“Charles! Is that any way to talk about your son?” Mrs. Frazier said.
“Is it all right for Donald to say things like that about Jennings?” he asked, instead of answering her. “Well, never mind.” He said, “Jennings is leaving.”
“Leaving!” Mrs. Frazier said.
“Yes, he’s going home.”
“Home! I’m going home?”
“Your brother is coming for you tomorrow. Sister Regina wants us to send you to school with all your belongings. George will pick you up at three o’clock.”
“Wow!”
“What’s all the excitement about:” Martha asked as she entered the dining room.
“The kid’s leaving,” Donald mumbled.
“I’m going home, Martha.”
“Oh, baby, that’s wonderful.” She hugged me.
“How about serving dinner?” Donald said in a grumble.
“Donald!” his mother snapped.
“Martha’s goin’ miss her baby,” she said as she continued to hug me.
I was very embarrassed.
After dinner, I said good-bye to the Fraziers and thanked them. Martha took me to my room to help me pack my things. I piled all the things Mr. Frazier had bought me in a separate pile.
“Aren’t you going to take them?” Martha asked.
“No,” I said. “They don’t belong to me.”
“Whatcha mean, they don’ts belong to you? ‘Couse they do.”
Martha stomped out of the bedroom. She returned a few minutes later with Mr. Frazier.
“Now, tells him,” she said.
“Don’t you want the things I bought you?”
“Yes, sir. But I didn’t think they were mine.”
“Well, they are, and you’re welcome to them.” He sat at the edge of the bed. “You know, Jennings, I haven’t been as attentive to your needs as I should have been, and I’m sorry. I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, call me. All right?”
“All right, sir. Thank you.”
He stood up and gave me a little hug. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will, sir. And thank you again. You know, for letting me stay here, and for the clothes.”
“My pleasure,” he said as he reached the door. “Oh, by the way, I know you caught that striper. Donald couldn’t catch a fish in the bathtub.” He winked.
“Now, get yourself ready for bed,” Martha said. “I’ll be right back.”
I finished packing my things. I thought about Mr. Frazier and how nice he was to me. Rich people aren’t all mean, after all.
I was deep under the covers with Doggie when Martha returned. She turned out the lights and took a seat at the edge of my bed. She brushed back my hair.
“I wish you was my little boy,” she said.
A warm tear ran down the side of my face.
“You’ve had some hard and troubled times for such a little boy,” she whispered. “I wants you always to know, you gots someone here who loves you. If’n you ever find youself alone or in trouble…you jist get yourself back to Martha. I’ll always be here for you.”
She began to hum as she rocked back and forth on the side of the bed. She hummed so softly, I almost didn’t hear her. I heard her more in my heart than in my ears.
10
George and I sat toward the rear of the bus as it rumbled down Main Street. I had the shopping bag between my legs, and Doggie tucked under my arm.
“Do you have to carry that thing?” George asked. He motioned with his head toward Doggie.
“He doesn’t like traveling in the bag. It’s stuffy.”
“The way you talk about him, anybody’d think he was real.”
“He is.” I lifted him up to look at him. “At least to me he is.”
“Put ‘im down,” George whispered. He spun his head around to see who might be watching.
“Oh, by the way, thank you for sending him to me.”
“That’s all right,” he said. He patted my knee. “Well, how was it?”
“Not bad. The Fraziers are very rich. I had my own room, and we ate in the dining room. I even had lunch to take to school.”
“Speaking of rooms,” he sighed, “we moved.”
“Moved! You mean we don’t live in the house on Coolidge Avenue no more? I won’t be near Midnight?”
“No more. In fact, it’s better for you. You only have to walk a half a block to the bus.”
“What bus?”
“What do you mean, what bus? The one that takes you to school.”
“I mean, is it the Q44 or a different one?”
He chuckled. “It’s the Q44. You can still see that friend of yours, what’s-his-name.”
“Sal.”
“Hey, what is it with this guy? Why do you like him so much?”
“He’s very nice to me. He talks to me and everything. Wait! Someday you’ll meet him and you’ll like him too.”
“I doubt it,” George mumbled.
“How do you know?”
“By the way, the new apartment only has three rooms. You, Larry, and Gene will sleep in one bedroom, me and Walter will sleep in the other.”
“Where’ll Mom sleep?”
“In the front room, the living room.”
“Sounds pretty crowded,” I said.
“Yeah, well, it’s all I could afford.”
“How’s Mom?” I asked.
“She’s okay.”
“Hey, George? Why does Mom keep getting sick?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s all in her head.”
“What do you mean, in her head?”
“Ah, nothing. Forget it.”
“No. Really. What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe it’s all in her mind. Maybe she ain’t really sick. Maybe she just thinks she is.”
We rode in silence. I didn’t understand how someone could just think they were sick and be sick. I remembered trying that sometimes when I didn’t want to go to school. It never worked.
We got off the bus at Seventy-seventh Road and walked the half-block to the new apartment. It was on the first floor of a three-story building. George pushed open the front door a
nd went in. I followed him. Mom was in bed by the window.
“Mom,” I called softly.
She turned her face toward me and smiled. I fell forward and hugged her.
“Oh, Mom,” I cried, “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, dear. I’m sorry I had to send you away.”
“It’s all right, Mom. The Fraziers were very nice people.”
“I’ll have to send them a little note,” she said. She closed her eyes.
“Are you tired, Mom?”
“A little,” she whispered. “But tell me, how do you feel?”
“Fine,” I said. “My cut is all healed up.”
“What cut, dear?”
“I cut my wrist.” I held up my wrist to show her. “I got twelve stitches,” I said proudly, now that it was over.
Mom’s eyes filled and her lip started to quiver.
“Don’t cry, Mom. It’s all better now.”
She reached out and took my hand and kissed the scar. She started to cry. She turned her face back toward the window.
“Don’t cry, Mom. Please don’t cry.”
“Leave Mom alone,” George ordered.
I sat at the edge of her bed for a moment. I brushed at her hair.
“Go inside,” George ordered.
I got up and left the room. I went into my new bedroom.
The room was very small. A double-deck bunk bed on one side, a single bed on the other, and a chest across from a window filled the room entirely. I set my shopping bag down on the single bed.
“I heard you come in,” Larry said as he stuck his head over the edge of the top bunk.
“Larry!”
“Hi,” he said. “Welcome to the phone booth.”
“Pretty small,” I said as I turned full circle to look at the room.
“What can you expect when George and Walter do things?”
“George said it’s all he could afford.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if he drank less, he could afford more.” He fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
“Which is my bed?”
“That one.” His hand flipped over the side of the bed, pointing toward the single bed.
I took Doggie from the bag and placed him by the pillow. I dumped the rest of the things on the bed. “I got some new things,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?” He sat up and hit his head on the ceiling. “Ow!”
He rubbed his head as he jumped from the top bunk to the floor. I showed him the things Mr. Frazier had bought me. He held some of them up to see if they’d fit him. They would.
We talked about the homes we stayed in. He’d stayed with a family named Frank. He said they were all right, but he wouldn’t want to live there. I told him I wouldn’t mind living with the Fraziers.
“You mean, live there for keeps?”
“Well…”
“I said once I wouldn’t mind living with Mrs. Keys, and you couldn’t understand that. Now that you’ve lived with someone nice, it’s different. Isn’t it? It’s not so hard to think of living someplace else. Someplace where you’re not hungry all the time and not treated like a dog.”
“I’m hungry here,” I said. “But I’m not treated like a dog.”
“Well, maybe you ain’t. But—”
“Larry.” He was interrupted by Mom’s voice.
“See what I mean? ‘Larry, Larry, Larry.’” He mimicked some strange voice whining out his name as he left the room.
I put my things into one of the drawers of the chest. I tucked Doggie down the side of the bed for safety.
Larry returned in a huff.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I gotta go to the store. Wh’d ya think?” He started to mumble to himself. “This is the last straw. I’m sick of goin’ here and goin’ there. I’m going, period.”
“What are you mumblin’ about?”
“Nothin’. I’m sick of this place.
“But we only just got here. How could you be sick of it already?”
“I don’t mean this place.” He pointed to the floor. “I mean this place where I am.” He pointed to himself.
“I don’t get you.”
He picked up his coat and stormed out.
That night we had soup for supper. Larry, Mom, and I were the only ones eating. George went out, Walter was at school, and Gene was still away. Mom had her soup in bed. Larry and I ate in the kitchen.
The kitchen was as small as the rest of the apartment. There wasn’t any room for a table, so Larry and I ate off a chair we placed between us.
“Hey! If we hurry up, we can see Captain Video,” Larry said.
“Captain Video! Where?’
“On television. Where else?”
“But we don’t know nobody with a television. Do we?”
He grinned from ear to ear. “George bought a television.”
“He did?”
Larry dashed from the kitchen into the living room. He pointed to it. Sure enough, it was a television. It was small, but it was a television.
“When did he get it?”
“I don’t know. Sometime while we were away. He said to be real careful with it. He’s still paying for it.”
“Wow! A television.”
“Mom?” Larry called softly.
“Yes, dear?”
“Can Jennings and I watch Captain Video?”
“If you keep it low,” she said. “I’m trying to get some rest.”
Larry and I did the dishes as quickly as possible. When we finished, we put on Captain Video. It was a long time since I had seen it. After Captain Video we switched the channel to watch The Lone Ranger.
“This is terrific,” I said. “A television right here in the house.”
“Mr. Frank had a television, but he wouldn’t let anyone watch it. He only watched it on Sunday, Toast of the Town and The Fred Waring Show.” He made a face.
“Weren’t they any good?”
“Singing and dancing and junk like that.”
“Who said you could watch television?” George growled as the door slammed behind him.
“Mom said.”
“Well, it’s my television. Ask me, if you want to watch anything!”
He was slurring his words, and he had a hard time standing up without hitting the wall. He was drunk.
“Can we watch?” Larry asked.
“No,” he said, and turned it off. He staggered into the bedroom.
Larry and I just looked at each other, and then went into our room.
“What good is having a television if you can’t watch it?” he said. He climbed into his top bunk. “I hate this place,” he mumbled.
In the days and weeks that followed, I saw a very different family. Nobody talked to anyone. Everyone seemed to be angry with everyone else. I couldn’t understand what had happened. Fights seemed to be about nothing and they never ended. George was drunk or almost drunk every night. He fought with Walter and Mom, calling them terrible names. Walter told him over and over that he hated him and that he was no better than the old man. I thought about the story Sal had told me about the old man, and wondered where Walter might have heard it. After every blowup between Walter and George, Mom always ended up crying. Gene and I fought like cats and dogs. If I was playing with something, he wanted it. If I wanted to do something, he wanted to do something different. He cried to Mom constantly. Even Larry and I didn’t talk very much. He was either out or he was crying about having to do everything. I went to bed earlier and earlier every night. It was better just to get in bed and stay under the covers than to listen to all the fighting.
I still saw Sal twice a day, but I didn’t tell him about all the fighting. I was a little ashamed of it and thought it was better to keep it to myself. Sal often asked me why I was so quiet. I told him it was my schoolwork.
It was Wednesday, April 25, just two days before my tenth birthday, when I boarded Sal’s bus on my way home from school. Sal was quieter than usual.
&n
bsp; “What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I’m not sure how you’ll take it,” he said.
“What?”
“Oh, well,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’ve been transferred. To the Bronx.”
“Transferred? To the Bronx? You mean you ain’t gonna drive this bus no more?”
“I’m sorry, son. I got bumped. Somebody with longer time on the job wanted this run.”
I was in shock. I had never thought Sal would go away from me. I was numb.
“Son.”
“Uh, yes?”
“I’m trying to work something out so I can get back. I like this run. I have a lot of nice friends here.”
“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled. “I hope so.”
“Son, are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. I think if I weren’t so stunned, I might have cried.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. He couldn’t either. We reached my stop.
“Are you going to give me a hug?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Sure.”
I reached over the bar and hugged him. He pinched my cheek.
“Of all the friends I’ve made on the bus,” he said, “you’re the best. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I said. I stepped off the bus.
I watched as his bus pulled out and drove up the hill. I stood staring at his bus and listening to the roar of his engine. It suddenly dawned on me that Sal was gone.
“Sal!” I screamed. “Sal.” The tears flowed down my cheeks. It was too late. I stood in the street looking out on nothing. Sal’s bus was long gone and I was alone.
I crossed the street and walked the half-block home. No one was home but Larry. He was lying in his top bunk reading a comic book. I fell across my bed and cried.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
I gathered up Doggie and cried into him. I heard a thump as Larry hit the floor. He sat at the edge of my bed.
“What happened?”
“Sal is…Sal is…” I had a hard time trying to catch my breath. “Gone!”
“Gone? Gone where?”
I breathed a few times, then wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “He’s gone to work in the Bronx.”
“Is that all? I thought it was something awful.”
“It is awful. Sal’s my friend.” I started to cry again. “I like him.”
“It ain’t no good liking people,” he said. He climbed back into his bunk. “I thought you would’ve learned that by now,” he huffed.
They Cage the Animals at Night Page 16
