My Crooked Family

by James Lincoln Collier

  “You can’t promise something like that.” I went into the kitchen with Lulu clinging on to my shirt. Ma was sitting at the kitchen table with a half-filled glass in front of her. She stared at me, not saying anything, like she was trying to remember what she ought to say. Her eyes were blank and fuzzy. I didn’t want her staring at me while I cooked. “Why don’t you go have a rest, Ma?”

  Ma stared at me some more. Then she said in a slow voice, “What have you got there?”

  I found a match and lit the stove. “Some potatoes and fatback. I’m going to cook supper for me and Lulu.”

  She went on staring. “For Lulu and me,” she said in that slow voice. “Your grammar is atrocious. How do you think you’ll get through high school speaking like that?”

  But I knew I wasn’t going to high school. Not if Pa had anything to do with it. I cut the fatback into chunks on the drain board by the sink, put them in the skillet over the flame, and began peeling the potatoes. Lulu stood beside me, licking her lips. Her hand darted out, but I knew it was coming and grabbed at it before she could snatch up any of the potato peelings. “Can’t you hold out for five minutes for God’s sake?”

  “Roger, don’t curse,” Ma said.

  “Yeah, Roger, you swore,” Lulu said.

  “If you don’t shut up, Lulu, I won’t give you any of this.” That quieted her down, and I cut the potatoes into slices.

  “Lulu, you mustn’t bother Roger while he’s trying to cook,” Ma said in that wavering voice.

  “Ma, why don’t you have a little rest,” I said again.

  “I think I might,” she said. “I’ve had a terrible day.” But she went on sitting there staring at nothing. When men got drunk they shouted, laughed, and got into fights. A mean streak came out in Pa when he got drunk. But Ma just sat and stared. “I’m just so upset about your pa I don’t know what to do. I’m beside myself. I don’t see how I can get through it. I needed something to help me sleep.”

  “I think you should go lie down, Ma.” I knew that if I kept after her, she would.

  The grease in the pan was nice and hot, so I dumped the potatoes in. The grease began to crackle and bubble up around the edges of the potatoes. They began to smell wonderful. “Hurry up, Roger,” Lulu said.

  “Hang on to your pants, Lulu.” I sliced up the onions, and my eyes began to sting.

  “I wish you wouldn’t curse, Roger,” Ma said. “It’s so vulgar.”

  “Why don’t you lie down, Ma.” I stirred the potatoes with a long fork. They were beginning to turn brown. I dumped in the onions. They smelled so good I could hardly keep myself from snatching out bits with the fork, but I knew if I did Lulu would howl for some too, and she’d burn herself. I knew how to wash hot potatoes around in my mouth with saliva to cool them off, but she’d just jam a piece of potato in her mouth, burn herself, and start screaming.

  Ma got up. “I think I’ll have a rest. This business with your pa has exhausted me.” She stood for a minute with her hands on the table, getting her balance, and then she walked carefully towards the kitchen door. When she got there she grabbed on to the door frame and looked around, her face all blank. “Be good children,” she said.

  I looked back at the potatoes and stirred them some more. “Go to hell,” I said in a low voice, so she couldn’t hear it.

  “Hurry up, Roger,” Lulu said.

  “I’m hurrying as fast as I can.” The potatoes were almost done and the onions were nice and brown. I looked around. Ma was gone. “It’s almost done. Set the table, Lulu.”

  She got down the plates—one tin one and one blue enameled one with a couple of chips out of it. I turned off the stove, took the skillet over to the table, and ladled out the potatoes, onions, and chunks of fatback. Lulu grabbed a couple of forks out of the drawer and began to eat while she was flinging herself into her chair.

  “Lulu.”

  She put down her fork. “I couldn’t help it,” she said with her mouth full.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full. And get some napkins. And eat right or I won’t give you any seconds.” The food didn’t last more than about five minutes, but Lulu was satisfied. She sat there burping the way she always did when Ma wasn’t around. She liked to burp and she could get out some loud ones. “Boy, that was good, Roger. I wish we could have that all the time.”

  “Maybe we’ll have it again tomorrow.” I still had sixty cents left from the dollar Circus gave me. We could have bread and molasses for breakfast. I’d buy a couple of ham sandwiches from the Greek’s on the way to school for lunch, and we’d have potatoes and fatback for supper. That would leave me with maybe a dime. I meant to buy myself something. I didn’t know what, but something.

  6

  I WAS PRETTY NERVED UP for the next couple of days. I wished it was over and done with and I had the money. What was it all about? I was pretty certain it was going to be some kind of robbery. I hoped we weren’t going to jump on someone and beat them up.

  I wished I had somebody to talk to about it. It would rest my mind a lot. The only person I had was Lulu, and I sure couldn’t talk to her. She didn’t understand about keeping a secret. She would promise; but to her a promise not to tell meant that she wouldn’t tell unless she really wanted to. For her wanting to do something made it okay, unless you were going to get a smack for it. Ma never smacked her because that wasn’t her way, and if Lulu was bothering Pa he’d say to Ma, “Can’t you keep that kid in line?” and Ma would have to scold Lulu. But it was always a scolding, never a smack. So Lulu did whatever she wanted to, and if she wanted to tell your secret, she would.

  But I could talk around the subject with her, and while we were walking to school the next day I said, “Lulu, how’d you like to have some new clothes? A new dress or something?”

  “Oh boy, would I. I’d love to have a frilly dress like the whores wear. With all that lace over their chest and down their sleeves.”

  I wondered if she knew what a whore was. I wondered if she knew anything about sex at all. The ma’s of a few of the kids at school were whores once, and sometimes they’d tell about things they’d seen in the parlor houses. But what usually happened was that around the time these kids got into the sixth or seventh grade the other kids would start to tease them about their ma’s, and they’d have to quit school. Even so, I figured Lulu probably didn’t know much about it. “I don’t think Ma would let you have a dress like that. Besides, it would be expensive.”

  “I’d love to have one like that just the same. Those dresses are so pretty.”

  “That isn’t realistic. What kind of a dress would you really like?”

  “I can’t think of some other kind. That’s the only kind I want.”

  “Sometimes you make me nuts, Lulu. Wouldn’t you like a nice plain ordinary dress that didn’t have holes in it for a change? Look at your dress, it’s coming unsewed down the back. And your elbow sticks out through a hole when you bend your arm.”

  She stopped walking and felt around behind her. “I can fix it with a pin,” she said.

  “Aren’t you tired of looking ratty all the time?”

  “I don’t look ratty,” she said.

  “Yes you do. We both do.”

  “You can’t say that to me,” she shouted. “You can’t call me ratty.”

  “Well, we are. Look at us—our clothes all patched and full of holes. Why can’t we have some nice clothes for a change?”

  “I’m not ratty,” she shouted. She raised her fist to hit me. “Take it back.”

  I grabbed her arm and held her off. “All right, I take it back. But I’m going to get myself some decent clothes. I’m going to get a pair of yellow trousers like . . . like some fellas have and a derby hat and a kerchief. I’m going to look real good for a change.”

  She was impressed by this and stopped being mad at me. “Where are you going to get the money, Roger?”

  I’d said too much. “I don’t know. But I’m going to get it. Some day.”


  I couldn’t really talk about it to Lulu. For a while I thought about telling Charley O’Neill. The problem was that Charley might tell his pa. Charley told him everything. Charley’s pa might decide to take me in hand before I got myself in trouble. It wouldn’t be safe to tell Charley. There wasn’t anybody else. I had to keep it to myself and put up with being nervous for a while.

  In order to calm my nerves I made myself think about the money I was going to make. Circus hadn’t said how much I would get out of it, but he’d said it would be enough to get me some new duds. How much would that be? Ten dollars, maybe. That was a lot of money. When I used to work as an ice man’s helper I got twenty-five cents a day, plus tips, which might come out to another quarter. But of course I had to give the money to Pa or Ma. Ma would usually let me keep a nickel for candy, but Pa wouldn’t.

  When you sold newspapers it added up to a little more, for you collected for the week on Saturday. It might come out to two or three dollars. That was as much money as I’d ever had. A couple of times I tried to hold out a quarter, but they gave you a slip of paper with the amount you’d made on it, so Pa could check. Ma always let me keep two bits out of my newspaper money, so I always tried to get home with it before Pa caught me. I used to take a long way home so he couldn’t waylay me. But I had to go home sometime, and he’d be waiting for me by the stoop.

  So having ten dollars of my own they didn’t know about would be really something. It made me feel pretty cheerful when I thought about it like that.

  *****

  By Thursday Pa seemed a little better. He didn’t look any better, because he could hardly eat anything and his face was thin and had lines in it. But when we came to see him in the afternoon he was able to sit up in bed. “There’s always the chance it’ll get infected,” he said. “You always risk infection. But the doc says it’s healing real good. I’m a lot harder to kill than that rattlesnake figured. He’s going to find that out the hard way.”

  “Shush, William,” Ma said. “You don’t need any more of this.” She was sober. I figured she was trying not to be drunk when she visited Pa.

  “What? And let him have another crack at me?”

  She gave him a steady look. “I’m sure the robber is long gone from here by now.”

  He looked quickly at us and then out the window. Wasn’t it just a robbery? Was somebody out to get Pa? That’s what it sounded like they were saying. I hoped I was just imagining things, and I put it out of my mind. Beside, I had tonight to worry about. Oh, how I wished it was over with.

  Night came. Ma had got some money from somewhere, for she cooked us chicken stew for supper. The stew smelled mighty good, but I didn’t feel much like eating. I had to, though, or Ma would be suspicious, so I forced it down.

  Ma didn’t eat anything. Instead she sat there with a glass of whiskey, trying to keep up a conversation by asking us how things were going at school. We could tell that she wasn’t really much interested, and we gave her short answers.

  When supper was over Lulu washed the dishes while Ma went on sitting there, drinking. I would be glad to get out of there. Poor Lulu would have to put up with it. But at least Ma wouldn’t notice that I hadn’t gone to bed but had gone out instead. I had no idea how long the whole thing would take. It might go on all night.

  I went into the living room and sat there trying to read a book. I had a lot of trouble concentrating. Finally it got to be nine o’clock and I told Lulu to go to bed. “Why do I have to?”

  “Because it’s a school night.”

  “How come you don’t?”

  “Don’t start that all over again.” I lowered my voice. “Now listen, Lulu. I have to go out. I got a job for a couple of hours. A man is going to give me a half a buck to help him deliver a sofa. If you go right to bed and don’t make a fuss, I’ll give you a nickel for candy tomorrow.”

  “What about a dime?”

  “You better not start that or I won’t give you anything.”

  “I’ll scream and holler.”

  I was feeling too nervous to argue with her. “All right. A dime. But you have to go to bed right now.”

  “Okay, Roger. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  “Right to bed now.”

  She got up off the sofa and went into our bedroom. I knew she had it in mind to get up as soon as I left, but I figured if I waited around a little while she’d fall asleep. So I sat there on the sofa, feeling nervous and listening to the quietness. The sound of traffic in the streets wasn’t louder than a low voice. Every once in a while I could hear Ma move in the kitchen. Finally I got up, eased the bedroom door open, and stood there staring into the dark and listening. Lulu was breathing deep. I closed the door. Then I put on my patched sweater and my cap, slipped out of the apartment, and went downstairs.

  I was early. It wasn’t more than twenty minutes after nine. I figured it would calm me some to walk around. So I walked around the streets here and there, looking at the people. Every once in a while I looked in a drugstore window to see what time it was. The minutes went along awful slow. I’d take a look and then walk along for just ages until I came to another place that had a clock; just five minutes would have passed. Oh, I didn’t think I could stand it.

  But finally it got to be quarter of ten. Now I started worrying about being late. I broke into a trot; then I realized that would attract attention, so I went back to walking along good and brisk, like I was a kid heading home for bed. Soon I reached Eighteenth and Rickerts.

  There were a couple of big factories here—four-, five-story buildings. A few smaller buildings were set alongside of them, mostly with stores in the bottoms and tenements up above. It was all shut up tight and dark—just the street lamps burning and in a few places light glowing out of tenement windows.

  I leaned up against one of the factory walls, halfway between two streetlights. I pulled my cap as low as I could without looking funny, and tipped my head down, like I was dozing. Still, what would a kid be doing in a place like this at ten o’clock at night, just leaning against a wall? Any cop who came by was bound to ask me what I was up to. What would I tell him?

  In fact, hardly anybody came: a couple of drunk railroad men in their striped overalls, going home from a saloon; a night watchman setting off to work with his lunch bucket and his bull’s-eye lantern; one or two others coming home late from their jobs with newspapers under their arms— waiters, maybe, or clerks on the late shift. Each time one of them came into sight my heart would race and I’d watch them come from under the brim of my cap. But they all marched right on by.

  Then there came around the corner of Eighteenth a man in an overcoat and a homburg, dressed up like a swell. He was about forty, as far as I could judge, and wore a small brown mustache. He came along at an easy pace, like he knew where he was going but was in no rush to get there.

  My heart picked up speed again. He came up to me, started to go by, and then stopped. “Say, young fella. You got the time?” He stood there, looking me over.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. “I lost it and I—” But that wasn’t right. I took a deep breath to calm myself down. “Somebody stole my watch, sir. I don’t know what the time is.”

  He nodded. “You can’t trust nobody in this town anymore, can you?” He looked around. “Thieves everywhere you turn. Well, I’ll try somebody else.”

  He began to saunter on up the street in that leisurely way. I tipped my head down and went on leaning against the wall for a minute or so. Then I looked up. Across the street an old man with a cane was going slowly along, not paying any attention to anything but getting himself to where he was going. I looked up the street. The man in the homburg was already in the next block. I began to walk after him, going pretty quick, but not so quick as to attract notice. He was still going along easy, and I began to close in on him. I slowed down, so as to keep a block behind him, and after a bit I got into the right pace to keep my distance. He didn’t look back; but once he dropped down to tie his shoe, and I kne
w he was checking to see that I was still with him.

  On we went through the streets of the city, first through a factory area and then into a neighborhood of tenements. There were a lot of people on the streets here, standing around the stoops talking or going along in little crowds, and it was harder for me to follow the man, for he kept disappearing in the crowds. Then I’d have to walk faster until I saw him again.

  Finally we came to a neighborhood of brownstones like the one Grandpa and Grandma lived in—families where there was money and the pa worked in an office. There weren’t so many people on the streets here and it was easier to follow the man. On we went. We’d been going for a good half hour now; I was in for a long walk home unless I could beg some money for a trolley.

  Now I could see up ahead that the buildings ended and there were trees beyond. We were coming to Lakeside Park. Grandpa had taken me there a few times when I was little. He’d take me out in a rowboat. I really liked going out in a boat. I liked dragging my hand along in the water, to watch the bubbles slide between my fingers. Afterwards we’d sit at a picnic table and eat hot dogs and drink soda pop. But I hadn’t been back there since.

  There were streetlights in the park running along the path, but off the paths it was dark. Up ahead the man in the homburg crossed over into the park. Then he disappeared.

  To see him vanish like a ghost made me jump. I didn’t run, for it would look funny to see a boy running along in a neighborhood like this, but I picked up speed, and crossed over into the park. A wide gravel path began here and wandered off through the park, streetlights along the path, grass and trees on either side. The man in the homburg wasn’t in sight—not on the path, not standing by a tree. Where’d he gone? What was I supposed to do now? I stood there thinking for a minute, and then I realized that it looked funny for a boy to be just standing by the park that time of night. I began to walk slowly along the gravel path. I was worried about everything—about somebody jumping out of the bushes at me, about what was going to happen that night, about finding the man in the homburg again. I was just as scared as I could be, and when I felt a hand on my shoulder no wonder I jumped and let out a little shriek.