by Judy Blume
Daisy passed her a sheet of paper. Christina removed the cover from the new Smith-Corona and rolled in the paper. She stood as she typed CHRISTINA MCKITTRICK. MRS. JACK MCKITTRICK. CHRISTINA AND JACK MCKITTRICK OF LAS VEGAS, NEVADA. She wasn’t alone, she reminded herself. She had Jack. She had Daisy. And Dr. O and his new family would be here soon. They would be her new family. Hers and Jack’s. It would be okay. Never mind that Mama had fallen to her knees, wailing, when Christina left. Even though she’d promised to come home for Christmas, just like a college student, Mama cried, “No…Christina…don’t go…” It took her father to get her mother to stop screaming. To get her back into the house.
“I hope you’re happy,” Athena said, the new baby in her arms. “I doubt Mama will live to see Christmas.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you ever hear of dying of a broken heart?”
“Mama’s not going to die.”
“But if she does, it’s on your head, Christina.” Athena turned and disappeared inside.
When Baba came back, he hugged her. “I don’t know what you’re doing but I wish you Nase kala! S’agapo. I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my daughter.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered into his neck. “Take care of Mama.”
“Mama will be all right.”
He pressed five crisp twenty-dollar bills into her hand. She didn’t want to take them but he insisted. She longed to tell him she and Jack were married. But she couldn’t.
Corinne
Thank god for Cousin Tewky, that’s all she had to say. When he heard her on the phone crying and carrying on about Steve, about Arthur, about the whole family falling apart, Tewky flew in and took charge, presenting her with a tantalizing idea.
Come home to Birmingham. He had his eye on a charming house with a garden just a block from his own. Three bedrooms, plus a maid’s, impeccably furnished, for rent with an option to buy. He’d already put a hold on it. He’d scouted out the best private schools for the girls. There was nothing to be done about Steve at the moment. Be proud of him, going off to serve his country. He’s young. He’s strong. He’s smart. He’ll go to college when he’s out in a few years. Let Fern go with Arthur for the summer. Send Natalie to the dance camp she’s begging to attend. If she loses weight the camp will be instructed to call immediately. If need be we’ll bring in a doctor to evaluate the situation.
When she’d asked, “And then what?” Tewky had taken her hand. “Then we’ll take action. There are rest homes in Birmingham, too. But I’m betting she’ll be fine. Give yourself a chance to recuperate, Corinne. When Fern and Natalie get back from summer vacation everything will be set up. They’ll be happy because their mother will be happy.”
It was true, she realized. She hadn’t been happy in a long time.
“You’ll be the belle of the ball, dearest cousin,” Tewky promised. “And I will be your dapper escort. Plus, I’m a very good dancer.”
And just like that she stopped crying. Just like that she was Tewky’s little cousin Corinne. He would take care of her and everything else. The house on Shelley Avenue would stay as it was. Tewky would find someone to live in and watch over it. If she wanted to sell in a year or two, they’d sell. For now, no decision had to be made. No decision. Such a relief. She felt very tired but the idea of going home to Birmingham filled her with hope.
If only she knew for sure what had gone wrong with her marriage. If only she understood how he could leave her for that woman. Miri’s mother, no less. It was unthinkable.
And when, exactly, had they fallen so in love they were leaving town together, disrupting so many lives? Was it New Year’s Eve, when Rusty twirled in the finished basement with Tewky? If she had never invited her to the party, would it have happened? She could kick herself every time she thought of that night. Of Arthur reminding her that Tewky was that way and she had no business foisting him on Rusty Ammerman. Had it started between them already? No, she didn’t think so because that was the night, after all the guests had gone home, they’d made love to start the new year with a bang—to quote Arthur. And they’d laughed the next morning about their clothes, strewn around the floor of their bedroom.
So how had this happened? How could she not have known? Wasn’t he just begging her to come to Las Vegas with him? If she’d said, Yes, of course, darling—whither thou goest—and all that, would they be leaving together to start a new chapter of their lives? Had she made a terrible mistake? Maybe. Would Steve be going off to Lehigh with Phil in September if she’d said yes to Las Vegas? Would Natalie get well in the dry desert air? She had to stop asking herself these questions. They only upset her and made everything worse.
Ceil Rubin gave a luncheon in her honor. Her friends promised to visit her in Birmingham but she knew they wouldn’t. She promised to come back regularly to check on the house but she knew she wouldn’t. Twenty years, just like that. Twenty years of marriage to Arthur, three children, friends, a life—
They toasted her. To starting over. They didn’t need to say what they were thinking. Corinne was the first of their crowd to be divorcing. She wouldn’t be the last, though no one would admit to being in an unhappy marriage. You’re lucky, Corinne. You have your own money. Her mother always told her never to turn up her nose at the family money. And she never had.
Miri
Newark Airport was still closed and wasn’t expected to open anytime soon, so on a warm summer day, Henry drove them to LaGuardia in Ben Sapphire’s Packard. Ben had given the car to Henry and Leah as a wedding present and all six of them, plus Fern on Dr. O’s lap, squeezed in for the ride.
At the departure gate Miri clung to Henry, not wanting to say goodbye. “I wish you were coming with us.”
“Leah and I will come to visit soon, maybe over Christmas.”
It would be Henry and Leah from now on. Henry and Leah, who’d been married for a week, and were going to Atlantic City tomorrow for their honeymoon. She would never have Henry to herself again. She’d have to share him with Leah, and already Leah was making it clear she didn’t want to share Henry with anyone. “Everything will be different,” Miri told him.
“Different can be good.”
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Not as much as I’m going to miss you.” He held her tight until Rusty tapped Miri’s shoulder, as if they were at a dance and Rusty was cutting in.
“My turn,” Rusty said quietly, and Miri had to let go of Henry.
“Be happy,” Henry told Rusty.
“I’ll do my best,” Rusty said. “You be happy, too.”
When it was time to say goodbye to Irene, Henry hugged her tight. “I love you, Mama.”
“Not as much as I love you,” Irene told him, touching his face. By then all of them were holding back tears.
“Enough with the emotional goodbyes,” Ben said. “We’re going to Las Vegas, not the moon.”
The plane, a silver Constellation looking to Miri like a huge, featherless bird with fancy wings, was ready for boarding. Irene carried her white leather train case with her pills, her makeup and her good jewelry neatly packed inside. She and Miri walked across the tarmac together.
“Aren’t you afraid?” Miri asked her.
“What’s to be afraid of, darling?”
“You know.”
“It’s going to be fine. I promise.” Irene gave Miri her most reassuring smile.
“But you’ve never flown,” Miri said. “How can you promise when anything could happen, anything could go wrong.”
“Anything could go wrong any day of the week. What’s the point of worrying in advance?”
“How do you stop yourself from worrying?”
“I think of all the good things in my life.”
“What about the bad things?”
“There’s no room for them inside my head. Not anymore. Now I say live and let live, and I kick those other thoughts away. You can do that, too.”
“I’m try
ing, Nana. I swear, I’m trying.”
Irene squeezed her hand. “That’s my girl.”
—
SHE DID NOT want to flash back to six months ago, to that frigid December day when the ball of fire fell from the sky, exploding not once, but twice. She had pains in her stomach now, maybe from not eating anything since yesterday afternoon, when Suzanne had hosted a going-away lunch for her. Tuna salad and deviled eggs, all arranged on a pretty platter with pale blue ribbons tying up the napkins. The girls were careful not to mention Mason’s name. Robo, who had come from Millburn, brought up the subject once. “Good riddance to him.” Without saying a word Suzanne and Eleanor let her know she was out of bounds.
Miri handed the panda bear from its shelf in her now-empty closet to Suzanne, asking her to give it to Betsy in person as soon as Mrs. Foster said it was okay to visit. Suzanne promised she would.
They’d chipped in to give Miri a going-away present from Oakley’s, a double box of stationery with a western motif—cowboys, cacti, broncos—decorating the lower-right-hand corner of each sheet, plus an Esterbrook pen in pastel green, with a bottle of green ink, exactly what she’d been hoping someone would give her for Hanukkah. “Something to remember us by,” Suzanne said.
“As if I could forget any of you,” Miri told them, choking up. She promised to write. They promised they’d write, too.
For a while she thought Mason might come by the house, but he didn’t. Once she understood he was avoiding her the way she was avoiding him, she wanted to leave, the sooner the better. And now she was going. She was going to walk up the steps leading to the silver bird that would gobble her up, holding her in its belly until it reached its faraway destination, where it would spit her out. In one piece, she hoped.
The stewardess, in her famous uniform with the red cut-out TWA logo on her right shoulder, welcomed them onto the plane. Miri was reassured to see that the seating looked so much like a train. She was never afraid on a train. They were seated two by two—Irene with Ben, Rusty with Dr. O and Miri with Fern. The stewardess handed the two girls silver wings to pin to their jackets. Fern’s jacket was turquoise felt with appliquéd animals. She asked for a second pin for Roy Rabbit. Miri offered hers, then pinned one to Fern’s jacket, and the other to Roy Rabbit’s well-worn vest.
“Have you been to Lost Vegas?” Fern asked her.
“No.” Miri resisted a laugh. It made sense to call it lost since it was in the middle of nowhere.
“Will you be my sister now?” Fern asked.
“Stepsister.”
“Like in Cinderella?”
“No. My mother is very nice so you don’t have to worry about having a wicked stepmother. And my grandmother is the best grandmother ever—except when she talks about boys, but you don’t have to worry about that yet.”
“I’m only coming for the summer,” Fern said. “Mommy wanted me to go to camp but I wanted to go with Daddy.”
“I’m glad you’re coming with us.” Miri never thought she’d say that, but there was something comforting about having Fern sitting next to her, her skinny little legs swinging up and down, her cowboy bunny clutched against her chest. She liked having someone to watch over, someone who needed her to be strong.
“Did you know Roy Rogers has a penis but Roy Rabbit doesn’t have one, even though he’s a boy bunny?”
“Yes, I know.”
“I told you, right?”
“About a hundred times.”
Fern said, “I flew one time when I was little, all the way to Birmingham, where my grandma lived. I got to sit on her hospital bed. Then she died. I didn’t see her dead. Only sleeping.” She was quiet for a minute, then she popped back up. “Do you know this song?”
She twisted her hands upside down, making goggles for her eyes with her thumb and second finger. She started to sing.
Into the air, Junior Birdman
Into the air upside down
Into the air, Junior Birdman
Keep your noses off the ground.
“Where’d you learn that?” Miri asked.
“Natalie learned it at summer camp and taught it to me.”
By the time Miri figured out how to make the mask with her hands, the plane was on the move, picking up speed. Faster, faster, faster, until they were airborne. Into the air, Junior Birdman. They were flying. She was flying. She thought it would feel different, more like the ride at the amusement park that pins you against the wall with centrifugal force. That ride was both thrilling and terrifying but so was this one. Once they’d leveled off she pretended she was on a train, except when she looked out the window all she saw was sky with a bank of fluffy clouds under the plane. Somewhere there’s heaven, she sang to herself. Because if there was a heaven, wouldn’t this be it? Separated from earth by white fluffy clouds. She half expected to see angels wearing flowing white gowns playing harps. She half expected to see Penny, tapping on the window of the plane to get her attention. If only she believed in heaven.
“What?” Fern asked.
“Nothing. I was just singing to myself.”
“What song?”
“Just some song I know.”
“Teach it to me.”
Somewhere there’s music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there’s heaven
How high the moon
“How high is the moon?”
“Pretty high.”
“How do you know you can hear music there?”
“Because you can always hear music.”
“That’s good. Isn’t that good?”
“Yes, it’s very good.”
—
IT WAS a long trip. First they landed in Chicago, where they changed planes. Between Chicago and Los Angeles a fancy lunch was served on a tray. Miri couldn’t imagine how they managed to cook steak and French fries on a plane. The Parker House roll came with a pat of butter stamped TWA. She had never seen such tiny salt and pepper shakers. She thought about sneaking them into her bag but didn’t want to set a bad example for Fern. For dessert there was ice cream with a chocolate chip cookie.
After lunch the stewardess handed out decks of cards. Miri and Fern played War until Fern’s eyes closed. Miri covered her with a blanket and smoothed her hair away from her face. She was reminded of babysitting Penny and Betsy. But thinking of them made her too sad. She tried to read—Rusty had given her a copy of The Member of the Wedding, about a girl called Frankie who felt she didn’t belong anywhere in the world. She wasn’t sure if Rusty thought it would appeal to her because they were setting out for the unknown, because Rusty was marrying Dr. O or just because it was a good book. But she couldn’t concentrate. She caught herself drifting off and shook her sleepiness away. She would not allow herself to sleep while she was flying, though when she’d gone to the restroom she’d passed Rusty and Dr. O, both dozing, and Irene and Ben, both asleep with their mouths partly open.
Before they landed in Los Angeles, the stewardess suggested they reset their watches to Pacific Time, which was three hours earlier than in New Jersey. They changed to a smaller plane for the short flight to Las Vegas. The stewardess handed out copies of the Las Vegas Sun as they boarded. Miri took one, and as soon as she was seated with her seat belt fastened, she thumbed through it. She stopped when she came to an intriguing headline:
Las Vegas Sun
MCCARTHY LOSES FACE IN VERBAL FIRE
JUNE 30—What was perhaps the most drama-packed and best-attended political meeting ever held in Nevada broke up in a scene of bedlam last night at War Memorial hall after the audience had listened to Sen. Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin, who had purportedly come here to speak on behalf of Sen. George W. Malone, now seeking re-election.
McCarthy in his typical wild swinging fashion, with no regard for facts but with a hold on his audience that is frightening, called Sun publisher Hank Greenspun “an ex-convict” and “an admitted Communist, publisher of the Las Vegas ‘Daily Worker.’ ”
Wo
men shuddered and strong men controlled their emotions with difficulty as the attacks continued. They had never heard such disgraceful language in Nevada.
Cheers rang out when Greenspun responded and challenged the Wisconsin Senator to debate these “vicious lies.” But McCarthy turned and ran like a scared rabbit.
—
TOO BAD Miri couldn’t share that story with Eleanor. They could taunt Donny Kellen about his hero, McCarthy, except they’d heard Donny had been shipped off to military school. And who knew the next time she’d see Eleanor? Still, she liked knowing this was the newspaper Dr. O would probably bring home every day, or maybe it would be delivered to their house. It made life in Las Vegas seem real. They had a newspaper and the publisher’s name was Hank, short for Henry. A good omen.
When Fern squealed, “Here come the bumps! Daddy—it’s the bumps!” Dr. O turned in his seat to look back at Fern, to smile at her, to pat her leg.
The smooth air had turned choppy on the final descent into Las Vegas. Miri didn’t like it. It wasn’t like riding a bucking bronco. Not that she’d ever been on a bucking bronco but she’d seen them in cowboy movies. These bumps were unpredictable. The stewardess told them to keep their seat belts fastened until they’d landed.
Rusty turned to Miri. “How’re you doing, honey?”
“I’m fine.” A lie. She was so terrified she dug her fingernails into the fabric of her seat cushion. “How about you?”
“Good.” But Rusty didn’t look good. She was pale, with beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip.
As they came lower and lower in their descent, the scene out the window looked to Miri like a moonscape, or how she imagined a moonscape would look. Sandy and flat with tall, dark mountains rising out of nowhere.
Lower and lower out of the wild blue yonder, lower and lower until the wheels hit the ground with a thud and the pilot reversed the engines, making a grinding noise. The captain spoke to them over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to McCarran Field, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your stay in Las Vegas. We hope you’ll join us again.”
