They're Always With You

by Mary Clare Lockman

  “We still have lots of relatives in Chicago.”

  “We do. Rose’s brothers, Liam and Sean, both married and had five or six children each. We still hear from them at Christmas. And Beto had a huge family. I don’t know what happened to all of them.”

  “Can we go there to see them?”

  “I’ll have to think about it. It might be hard right now.” Gramps pointed to his weak side.

  “I didn’t mean today. But maybe later in the summer. I’d love it.”

  “I will think about it. It might be fun. I bet you don’t remember going there when you were six.”

  “I do remember that the buildings were huge and really tall. I’m glad you said you’d think about going for a visit. Promise?” I put my hands in a praying position, then I looked at Gramps. “I don’t want to sound all mushy or anything but I’ve really liked our talks.”

  “I have too.”

  I was just going to say something even more mushy to Gramps like I feel like I know you better and I love that when I was saved by Aunt Florence. She came out to the backyard and pulled up a chair.

  “Dad, look at you.” She put her right thumb up into the air.

  “He’s trying to get a suntan, I think.” When I really looked at Gramps I was still shocked at how white he was. “He walked out here, Aunt Florence.”

  “That’s great. The physical therapy is working.”

  “Are you going to stay here for awhile? I told Mom I’d wait till she got back.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll stay.” Aunt Florence opened the photo albums. “I haven’t seen these in years.”

  “They’re really cool pictures,” I said. “Don’t forget to tell Aunt Florence about the trip we’re planning to Chicago.”

  “When are you going?” Aunt Florence asked.

  “Soon. By the end of the summer. Right, Gramps?”

  “I said I’d think about it. On with you now,” Gramps said.

  “Okay. Don’t forget.”

  I called Sally the minute I walked into my room. We talked for a while but to tell you the truth there was so much commotion in the background, I could barely hear her. Between the rat-a-tat-tat and “Oh, you got me” of Joe and Eric and the whining of Anna, my ears were starting to hurt. Sally and I finally gave up and decided we’d talk in the morning.

  I pulled out my homework. I had to write a story about an event that had changed my thinking. Mrs. Bosworth said it could be a big sudden event but it didn’t have to be. Just something that once it was over, we weren’t quite the same.

  The only thing I could think of was Gramp’s stroke. I hated to dwell on it but it seemed like for the first eleven years of my life not much had happened. At least there was nothing that made me think I was a different person.

  Now I could write about the fact that I was so scared I might lose Gramps. I had thought about what he meant to me so many times. I loved our talks. I couldn’t think about Gramps without thinking about him leaving Italy, Giovanni, Ellis Island, Chicago, Grandma Rose, and Daniel. I had never thought about any of those things before Gramps told me his stories. Now I couldn’t look at him without knowing that there were so many other people inside of him.

  I decided I would begin my story with how I thought before. Once I started writing, it was easy. I wrote about how all I ever thought about was the fact that I was the only child in the family. I thought about what it meant for me. Like how I imagined I would have been best friends with my brother or sister; talking into the wee hours of the night and stuff like that. Since Gramp’s stroke I thought about how disappointed my parents must have been that they didn’t have more children. My mom had even said that when you waited for something as long as they did for me, it was just very precious. And who knows, maybe my brother or sister would be irritating like Sally’s. She never talked to Joe and Eric; they were too busy trying to shoot each other. Her older brother John was always busy with his friends so he wasn’t around for Sally to talk to either. And Anna, well, that was a whole nother thought. I could have someone going through all my things, spying on me, and then telling on me. The more I thought about having Anna as a sister, the more I wanted to thank my mom and dad for having only me. But then, it could have been little Margaret...

  Before Gramp’s stroke, I didn’t give a thought to what Aunt Florence did as a nurse. I couldn’t believe how many things she knew about. I was glad to have Aunt Florence at the hospital with us explaining what was going on with Gramps. My mom even said she was happy that Aunt Florence and I seemed to be warming up to each other because she loved us both so much.

  Ever since I’d learned about Daniel, I felt sorry for everyone in my family. I had wanted so badly to know who Daniel was and it certainly explained some things I had wondered about but now I wished I had known him. I was really sad that I never met him.

  How I felt about basketball was never going to change. I thought about it and had talked about it from the time I was little. I would still be talking about it in the future. In fact, I couldn’t imagine winter without basketball. One thing I had realized is just how much fun it is to replay the game with people who love to discuss every little play. I had never given a thought to the fact that Aunt Florence had been my age, much less that she loved basketball and had won games with her wicked hook shot. Now, I felt we had something in common. And did she love to talk about every little play. We’d probably be discussing the championship game all summer until I’d be relieved that the new basketball season was here!

  I wrote all this down and then I realized that I looked at everyone in my family differently but most of all I was glad they were mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aunt Florence

  My dad had been waiting for the weather to warm up so he could start the new garage. Gramps was so excited that’s all he talked about. He had been doing his physical therapy trying to build up his muscles. He had practiced going up and down the stairs with the therapist. My dad said as soon as Gramps could walk upstairs, he’d be able to walk out to the garage. We had the perfect place for him to sit as he handed us nails and screws.

  Gramps still used a cane but by the middle of May he could go up and down the stairs by himself. He said now it was time for him to move out of the sun-room and sleep upstairs. My dad said he would move Gramp’s bed upstairs; to just say the word. Gramps said, “I’m saying it.” So we made a huge deal of moving the bed and other things up to Gramp’s upstairs bedroom. I carried the lamp for his bedside table. I set it down on the table and said, “Ta - Da.” Gramps said pretty soon he was going to get rid of his cane too. I said we’d all cheer. “Ta - Da.”

  My dad had gotten a building permit at the beginning of May. He finally decided that the date to start the garage would be over Memorial weekend. He had the Sunday off, of course, and the Monday too so we had two full days to work on the garage. My dad said he had a dilemma. He had to take down the old garage roof and walls first.

  Two of our neighbors had said that they would help my dad with the garage if he needed it. Since Gramps was still pretty weak and my dad wouldn’t let me do much except pound nails, he needed help, believe me. Otherwise, he said it would probably take the whole summer. He hoped with the neighbors assisting him the whole garage would be done by the Fourth of July.

  Sunday morning we had to go to nine o’clock Mass before we started working on the garage. Gramps was really happy to be at church. People were shaking his hand and slapping him on the back. He grinned, with just a little droop now, from ear to ear.

  The hour couldn’t go by fast enough for me since Mrs. O’Neill was in what my mom would call rare form. It was Memorial Day weekend so she led the congregation in the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” at the end of the Mass. When she sang “Glory, Glory Hallelujah,” her leading turned into a screechy solo. I wanted to yell out Hallelujah when it was finally over. I swore my ears would ring for a week.

  We skipped breakfast at the diner and went right home. After my mom’s ba
con and eggs, Dad and I made our way to the garage. I wore the belt my dad had given me to hold nails and my hammer.

  The first thing we had to do was take down the roof. My dad told the two neighbors we were starting and they pitched right in. We started on the side that was tumbling down because it wasn’t on there as tightly as the others. I had never minded being up on a ladder and there was a time that I used to live up on the roof with a book. Now I was up there ripping off the shingles and just throwing them in the big dump-ster my dad had rented.

  My dad, the neighbors, and I ripped things apart for two full days. The only thing left standing was the cement floor with all the lumber on top of it. My dad covered the lumber with waterproof tarps and held them down with bricks.

  “We make a good team,” my dad said.

  I bowed.

  “Thank you,” he said to the neighbors. “Next weekend, I’ll need more help.”

  “Count us in,” they said.

  “Remember Gramps and I are ready whenever you need us too.”

  School would be out in a week and I couldn’t wait since Mrs. Bosworth was still wracking her brains trying to think of things for us to do. It was hard not to look out the windows of the classroom and think about summer things like swimming, walking by the river, listening to the Beatles on my record player, biking with Sally, tanning with Gramps, and reading my favorite books while listening to the birds sing. Of course, this summer we’d also be putting up our new garage. Anyway, I knew I’d be thinking about all those things while looking right at Mrs. Bosworth so I wouldn’t see her sturdy brown shoes planted next to my desk.

  Aunt Florence asked me if I’d like to ride with her up to St. Paul the day after school let out. There was a store she loved up there called Dayton’s. She said it was expensive but the quality was good. She sure didn’t believe in buying cheap clothes. She would say, “The only thing that happens is you end up replacing them sooner than later and it costs you more in the long run.”

  I said yes because I didn’t have anything else to do. Anyway I thought my mom may have some jobs for me to do around the house. I was home for the summer but so was my mom. And she liked to keep me busy. I protested and said I thought it was summer vacation with an emphasis on word vacation. My mom shrugged her shoulders the more I protested and didn’t say a word. Well, anyway, I wasn’t in the mood for washing windows, scrubbing floors, or folding laundry. So I said yes, not knowing that the way I looked at my family was about to change again.

  I liked the drive to St. Paul. The softly rolling hills were so green. Purple, yellow, and red flowers were everywhere. There were farms with fields of corn, soybeans, wheat, and pretty white picket fences. There were lots of black and white cows chewing their cud and horses running through the fields. My favorite part of the drive was when we drove through the city of Hastings. It was about halfway from Red Wing to St. Paul. There were really big, old houses with turrets and interesting designs. Aunt Florence called them Victorian houses. I loved them.

  Aunt Florence and I talked about the usual things on the way to St. Paul. It was fine but you can only say so much about new garages, summer plans, and school. Then we got onto basketball and the miles flew by. We went through all the plays of the big game again. By the time St. Margaret made the winning shot, we were in St. Paul. I planned to ask Aunt Florence about her basketball career on the way home.

  I actually loved Dayton’s too because we had no store like it in Red Wing. There was rack after rack of every kind of dress, pants, and shirt. There were perfumes and makeup and all different kinds of pretty china.

  Aunt Florence took me to lunch at the River Room. Everyone was dressed up. Aunt Florence said her favorite meal was Turkey Divan. She told me that I would love their quiche since I liked eggs so much.

  I ordered the quiche. We also got a salad and a popover that was out of this world. It literally melted in my mouth along with all the butter I had put on it. I hadn’t even finished my popover when the quiche arrived sitting on a piece of lettuce. I bit into my quiche and thought I was in heaven.

  I had been so busy eating that I hadn’t even noticed that we were eating on china. And the minute my glass of water was halfway empty, it was filled again. There were candles on the tables so it was kind of dark in there but I didn’t mind eating my popover and quiche with Aunt Florence by candlelight.

  We left the River Room and then took our time looking at the shoes and dresses. Aunt Florence actually tried on a pink dress that looked nice on her. The style was amazing but the color was just okay. I looked through the rack after she went back to the dressing room and found the dress in red. It was in her size and everything. When Aunt Florence came out of the dressing room, she put the pink dress back on the rack.

  I said, “Here it is in red. That might look great on you.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t wear a red dress.” Aunt Florence actually blushed.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because I’ve never worn a red dress.”

  “That’s not a good reason. At least try it on.” I held up the dress.

  “I have no idea where I would wear it.”

  “We can talk about that on the way home. C’mon, try it on.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Just to try it on I mean.” She took the dress from me, looked it over, and walked purposefully into the dressing room.

  A few minutes later, I looked over at the doorway. There was Aunt Florence standing in the greatest looking red dress I had ever seen. “Wow. I have to say you look wonderful,” I said.

  Aunt Florence walked out slowly and then to my amazement she spun around. The dress spun with her.

  The clerk had been watching and now she came over. “That just took ten years off of you. It looks like a dress to go dancing in.”

  “I don’t dance much. In fact, I don’t dance at all. So I really don’t need it.” She turned towards the dressing room. “How much is it anyway?”

  The clerk looked at the sales tag. “It’s $70.00.”

  “That’s way too much. I’m not going to get it.”

  “Aunt Florence, remember what you told me about why you shop at Dayton’s? You said they really have quality things. This is a quality dress, I would say.”

  “It’s not in my budget.” She ran her hands down the dress.

  “If you stretch out the $70.00 over the next ten years you’ll be wearing it, it’ll only cost you $7.00 a year. Anyway, look in the mirror.”

  Aunt Florence stood in front of a three-way mirror. She bent and moved a little from side to side trying to see the back of the dress. The clerk and I didn’t say a word. We just let her wrestle with her budget and the idea that she really didn’t need the dress. When I saw her smiling and turning more to the side, I knew the budget and need were swiftly going out the window.

  “I’m going to get it,” Aunt Florence said. “Yes, I’m going to get it.”

  “You won’t regret it,” the clerk said.

  I had been thinking that maybe I could talk Aunt Florence into looking at some new glasses but now that she just spent $70.00 I didn’t think she would be spending a lot more. “I can’t wait for them to see it at home.”

  We had parked in the parking ramp under the store so we just took an elevator to our car. On our way to the car, Aunt Florence was going on and on about how she had wanted to maybe get me a dress or something new and now she had spent way too much.

  “I don’t care, Aunt Florence,” I said. “I don’t like wearing dresses. I didn’t come with you so you would buy me something. Anyway, I would never be able to describe just how great you look in your red dress.”

  Aunt Florence’s face looked so happy that her eyes were sparkling kind of like the way that the Mississippi shimmers when the sun plays with the water. It was the strangest thing but with sparkling denim blue eyes, her skin took on a rosy glow and she was actually pretty.

  I wondered what we would talk about on the way home. Now that I felt more comfortabl
e with Aunt Florence, I planned on asking her questions about growing up in Red Wing. Maybe the subject of Daniel would come up and she would tell me all about the brother she adored.

  In no time we were parked in front of a hospital named St. Joseph’s. “I always stop here when I come to St. Paul,” Aunt Florence said. “It’s something I have to do.”

  It was so quiet right then that I glanced over at Aunt Florence. She had her hands clasped on her lap. She was still as a cat before it pounces. The eyes, which had been shimmering happily a few minutes before were so flooded with water that I knew the tears would be flowing down her cheeks pretty soon. I thought I had had all the emotion I could stand in the last couple of months. But when I looked at Aunt Florence again, it stopped my thoughts cold. I had never seen a person look quite as sad as Aunt Florence did at that moment.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “This is where I left Daniel.” Aunt Florence continued. “I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have left him.” She put her face in her hands and her whole body crumpled. If that wasn’t weird enough, she started sobbing so hard that her shoulders, upper body, and even her legs shook. Is this what she did every time she came to St. Paul? Sat in front of the hospital and cried?

  “I’m sure he understood. That’s the way big brothers are. After all...”

  Aunt Florence interrupted. “I’m not talking about my brother.” She took her face out of her hands and looked directly into my eyes. “I’m talking about my son, Daniel. I named him after my brother.”

  Well, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather, as my mom would say. My mouth, which had been slightly open a minute earlier, was now down on my chest. And it stayed there. Wide open. If there had been any flies in the car, they would’ve flown right in.

  “He was so beautiful,” she said. “Just so beautiful.”

  I guess we were sitting in a spot where people were dropped off because a horn tooted behind us. Not very loud but it was a definite toot.