The Secret of Clouds

by Alyson Richman

  “Thanks.” I bent down to tie the laces, and when I looked up, his hand was extended, offering to help me up.

  “And here I was thinking chivalry was dead,” I joked as I let my fingers thread into his.

  “Never,” he added quickly. “I assure you, Ms. Topper, there are still one or two knights to be found at Franklin Intermediate.”

  “Well, that’s the best news I heard all day.” I beamed. We were now only inches apart from each other, and the scent lifting off his skin was strangely familiar. It must have been his soap. He smelled clean and woodsy, the fragrance of freshly cut pine.

  35

  CHRISTMAS was coming soon, and if maintaining my students’ concentration was challenging right after summer break, it was even harder in the days leading up to winter vacation. The kids were dreaming of presents and vacations in Florida. I had to admit, even I was a bit distracted; there was no holiday I enjoyed more. For the past three years, Bill and I had split Christmas Eve and Christmas Day between our respective parents’ houses. As I started to think of all the family presents I still had to buy, I also began to arrange for Finn to come to Yuri’s house. The first step was seeing whether Finn himself would be up to it.

  I announced to the class that in the last two weeks before break, we would be discussing different examples of men and women who had overcome adversity. Their final assignment before Christmas would be to write a newspaper column about a moment in history where someone had stood up to injustice. I gave examples of Gandhi and Rosa Parks. I knew most of the boys in the class would want to cover an athlete, so I suggested Jesse Owens or Jackie Robinson as other possibilities, too.

  After school was over, I caught Finn on his way out to meet his mother. I motioned to him that I had a quick question for him.

  “What’s up, Ms. Topper?” He tossed his L.L.Bean knapsack over his shoulder, the straps already a bit tattered and frayed. He looked like a puppy as he stood there with his wide eyes and shaggy blond hair. I had to fight back the urge to move his bangs away from his eyes.

  “Got a favor to ask you, Finn.” I jumped right to it. “I have a student the same age as you, he’ll be twelve in June. I tutor him twice a week in his home because he’s too weak to go to school.”

  “Really?” Finn interrupted. “What’s wrong with him?”

  I’d been hoping to be a bit vague about Yuri’s condition, but Finn was clearly too curious a kid to let me off the hook.

  “Well, how can I explain it?” I struggled for a second to find the right words. “He was born with a rare heart condition and has a weak immune system, so he doesn’t really have the stamina right now to be in the classroom with so many other kids around. I was hoping you might want to come with me to visit him one afternoon. I think a little interaction with a kid his age would be good for him.” I smiled. “And he’s a huge baseball fan, like you. I think you’ll have a lot in common.”

  “Sure,” he said as his voice perked up. “Why not?”

  My heart felt like it leapt an extra beat in my chest. “Really, Finn? That’s fantastic!” I leaned over and gave him a little squeeze on his shoulder. “I’ll call your mom to make sure it’s okay.”

  “Yeah, no problem, Ms. Topper. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”

  “I’m sure, too. It’s probably best if she drives you, though, just because the district might not want me taking you in my car.”

  “She’s out there now waiting.” He motioned toward the parking lot. “Gotta run.”

  I waved at him to go.

  “One more thing.” He stopped just before exiting the front entrance. “Is he a Mets or a Yankees fan?” he shouted.

  “Yankees!” I hollered.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Cool. Then I really do want to meet him!”

  36

  I met Bill my sophomore year at the University of Michigan. It had taken me a full two semesters to get acclimated to life at a big university. Growing up in Strong’s Neck, I was used to rambling country roads and houses that echoed a quiet New England sensibility. For the prom, my friends and I all bought our dresses from the Laura Ashley shop in Stony Brook Village and dabbed the backs of our necks and wrists with Anaïs Anaïs to feel feminine and pretty. Our high school dance was filled with awkward boys and a gym full of streamers. John McMannis, my date, ditched me halfway through the night for a girl named Gina Lorenzo, who wore a black spandex Betsey Johnson dress and a pair of fishnets. I remember standing in a corner, rapping along with some friends to “Ice Ice Baby” blaring on the gym’s speakers, when I noticed Gina reemerge in the gym with my date, her fishnets torn above her thigh.

  By the time I met Bill, I was no longer wearing my flower-printed dresses, and thankfully, my corduroy pantaloon jumpsuit had been given away, too. It didn’t take me longer than my first freshman party to realize that the boys in college were not all that enticed by the feminine tea dresses I thought made me look like a character out of a Jane Austen novel.

  I ditched the fabric bows that had kept my hair back in a ponytail for most of high school, and started wearing my hair curly and free. When Pretty Woman came out that year, I learned how to scrunch my tresses with L’Oréal Pumping Curls, and I supplemented my wardrobe with jeans and fuzzy sweaters from Urban Outfitters. But despite my more contemporary appearance, there was still that shy girl from Long Island who saw herself as big-boned and awkward, nothing like the blond midwestern ponytailed girls who seemed to be born with a homecoming king by their sides.

  The evening I first met Bill, I was hanging out at the counter of the Brown Jug, eating French fries and gravy with my best friend, Katie, when he came in and sat down with some of his friends. At one point, I reached over to pull out a few napkins from the metal dispenser, and I accidentally knocked over his drink.

  “Oh my God,” I apologized, my face burning with embarrassment. “Please let me buy you another one.”

  He refused my offer and asked if, instead, he could buy a round for Katie and me. His manner was boyish and sweet, and when the drinks came, I was impressed that he had also ordered another plate of fries and gravy for us all to share. I loved that he dug into the fries as heartily as Katie and I did. He was also incredibly tall. Six foot three with a strong build and the familiar features of my father’s Irish family, there was something about him that made me feel immediately comfortable. When we walked out next to each other, I didn’t dwarf him with my five-ten frame, and he also laughed at every one of my jokes, even when no else did.

  A group of us stayed up almost all night. We ended up back at the South Quad, playing drinking games. I remember thinking how chivalrous he was for drinking the rancid beer for me whenever I lost at quarters so I wouldn’t have to.

  In the days that followed, he pursued me with an impressive amount of effort. I found out he had asked my roommate for my class schedule so he could miraculously appear exactly when I was exiting Angell Hall. He invited me to watch basketball games with him, at a time when the school’s team was at its apex and everyone was reveling in the exploits of the Fab Five. It was then that he started telling me stories about why he loved sports so much. And when he spoke about them, his entire voice changed. It sounded so alive, like the way ice changes when it hits a glass of sparkling lemonade. Everything began to pop and crackle. He knew the history of basketball so well, about all the great players and their records. And when baseball season started, the names changed, but his enthusiasm stayed the same.

  But nowadays, Bill seemed like a glass of lukewarm water. Nothing seemed to excite him except his work buddies and the new BMW catalog that had come in the mail. He kept that on his nightstand, flipping through its glossy pages whenever I brought my own work up to bed.

  The fireplace, which I had been so excited to snuggle in front of during our winter weekends, remained untouched. The house, despite my constantly raising the thermostat to an ever-
higher temperature, always felt cold.

  I couldn’t help but think of that light that drew me to my special students. I had never thought that a person’s light could change. But whatever spark had initially drawn me to Bill had shifted over the past few months. It was a terrible thing to say, but I knew it was true. His eyes had grown dim.

  37

  I called Finn’s mother the following day, and she said it would be her pleasure to drop Finn off at the Krasnys’ one day after school. The few extra hours she would have free that afternoon meant she could devote more time to her daughter.

  “He’s got basketball practice on Thursdays, but any other day would work.” I could hear her shuffling some papers in the background. “What’s their address? Let me get a pen.”

  “Thirty-five Moriches Road. Not far from the St. James General Store.”

  “That’s close to us,” she said. “I really think it’s a lovely idea.”

  “You have a great son, Mrs. Laffrey.” I felt the need to tell her just how much I enjoyed having Finn as a student. “Not only is he smart and a pleasure to teach, but he’s incredibly compassionate as well. He’s always helping the other kids when they’re struggling, and he never seems preoccupied with acting cool.” I felt a true sense of teacher’s pride as I spoke.

  “Thank you, Ms. Topper. That’s so nice of you to say.” I suddenly heard a girl’s voice holler in the background. “I gotta run, but let’s say I drop Finn off at four thirty next Monday. Would that work?”

  “I’ll check with Yuri’s mother, but if you don’t hear from me otherwise, consider it done.”

  * * *

  • • •

  THE following Monday, I called Katya during my lunch period just to make sure that Yuri was feeling up to having a visitor that afternoon. During school, I confirmed that Finn had no signs of a cold or cough. The last thing I wanted to do was bring someone contagious into the Krasnys’ home. Yuri’s health had seemed stable to me over the past couple of weeks, and I knew if there was any reason to postpone the visit, Katya would be the first to tell me.

  When I arrived, I noticed there was a small Christmas tree in the living room with a garland of delicate lights wrapped around its branches. The smell of fresh pine was invigorating, and I immediately thought of my own family’s tradition of buying a tree from one of the local farm stands, and my mother making hot cocoa and cinnamon-dusted cookies for my brother and me as we trimmed the tree.

  “The place smells so good,” I told Katya as she hung up my coat. “I see you got your tree up. It looks great.”

  She looked in the direction of the living room and smiled. “Yes, we did it this weekend. My husband’s Jewish . . . but doesn’t believe in God.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Still, he knows how much I like these American traditions. We would have never been allowed something like this back in Ukraine.”

  “I love the festivities, too,” I admitted. “We always need a little bit of added cheer when it’s freezing outside.”

  “Yes, and Yuri also loves it. He sat with me yesterday at the counter and helped me make the cookies. I really think he’s excited to meet this other boy . . .” She hesitated for a moment, as if embarrassed she’d forgotten his name.

  “Finn,” I added, helping her out. “Finn Laffrey. You’ll see. I think he and Yuri will hit it off.”

  * * *

  • • •

  MRS. Laffrey’s Volvo pulled up at exactly four thirty. I was sitting in the living room with Yuri. Katya had brought in a second plate of cinnamon-sugar cookies because Yuri and I had already finished off the first one. I held a cup of steaming tea between my hands and had been telling Yuri that I felt like a bit of a matchmaker, like in the musical Fiddler on the Roof. “But instead of marriages, I work in the business of friendship,” I joked with him.

  “What’s your criteria for making a match?” he asked as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “I’m just curious why you chose him.”

  “Both of you are good students who like to read. Both are kind and interesting to talk to. And, oh yes, a mutual love of sports!”

  Yuri grinned.

  “And before you even ask me,” I added, “I’ve already checked. He’s a Yankees fan, like you.”

  * * *

  • • •

  KATYA walked Finn to the living room, and I got to my feet, anxious to make a proper introduction.

  “Finn, meet Yuri.” I made a grand gesture with my hand. “And Yuri, meet Finn.”

  “Hey!” Finn lifted his hand to greet him. “Cool jersey.” He noticed right away that Yuri was wearing a Mariano Rivera jersey as he sat in his comfy chair. Finn, on the other hand, was wearing Andy Pettitte’s number.

  Yuri smiled and made a small wave back. “You like Pettitte, huh?”

  “Yeah, he’s my favorite,” Finn said, and suddenly an ease flowed between them.

  “He’s a good guy.” Yuri’s face brightened. “Hard year for him last year with his dad being sick, but he kept his playing strong.”

  This sort of exchange was exactly what I’d hoped for in bringing the two boys together.

  “Yeah.” Finn nodded. “I heard during practice for the World Series, he wrote ‘Dad’ in silver on the inside flap of his hat to keep him close to him when he was on the field and couldn’t be at the hospital with him.”

  “That’s really cool. I didn’t know that.” Yuri appeared impressed. “Guess ’cause my dad likes Mariano Rivera.”

  “Yeah, he’s awesome, too,” Finn agreed. I looked at them both, and the whole room seemed to brighten with their smiles.

  “So let’s get started, then, why don’t we?” I motioned for Finn to join me on the sofa. “And make sure you try one of these cookies before we begin, Finn. Yuri and I ate an entire plate of them just before you got here.”

  Finn reached over and took one. A smile crossed his face after the first bite.

  * * *

  • • •

  WE spent the next hour discussing Lois Lowry’s Number the Stars, the book we had just started reading in the writers’ workshop at school. At the end of the hour, I mentioned that Yuri might want to do a mock sports column on a famous athlete who had overcome adversity in sports, as Finn and many of the other boys in my class were doing for their next writing assignment. The next time we met, we could talk about what obstacles the athlete they had each chosen had overcome.

  “Sound good?”

  The boys nodded their heads in agreement. “But, Ms. Topper.” Yuri smirked. “Does being on the Mets count as an athlete having to overcome adversity?”

  “Very funny,” I answered, though I could see that Finn was also amused.

  As we were wrapping things up, Yuri looked over to Finn and asked if he was on any sports teams.

  “I’m playing on a travel basketball team now with my friend Charlie.” He leaned over and tied his shoelace, flipping his hair to the side so he could see the laces better. “And I hope to make the school baseball team in the spring.”

  Yuri’s face fell, but I could see he was still trying to force a smile for Finn. “You’re lucky,” he said in a quiet voice. “Maybe one day in the warmer weather I can come and watch you play.”

  38

  THE boys saw each other one more time before we all broke for Christmas vacation. By the end of their second meeting, a lively dialogue ensued between them about their research for the mock sports column. We talked about Jackie Robinson and Jim Thorpe, two athletes who demonstrated talent with great fortitude in spite of all the hurdles they had to navigate in order to compete. We also touched upon the civil rights movement in the United States.

  Even in just two visits, I could see how much Yuri brightened at the sight of Finn entering the house. I still met with Yuri once a week by myself, but those solo sessions seemed far more subdued compared to the times when Finn was also ther
e.

  I had visited my parents’ house in the interim, and my mother, always prescient, noticed that I evaded any conversation about Bill. “Are things okay at home, honey?” She treaded carefully. I could see her searching my face for clues. In front of me was a bowl of Italian wedding soup. Instead of inhaling it like I usually would, I just moved one of the meatballs around in the broth, while a wilted leaf of escarole wrapped around the neck of my spoon.

  “You’re not eating.” Her eyes drifted from my face and rested on the steaming bowl of soup. “So I guess I’ve found out my answer.”

  I felt her hand reach over to mine, and her warm fingers instantly enveloped me with maternal kindness. “Maggie, tell me what’s the matter.”

  I felt my stomach seize up. I didn’t want to tell my mother that the man I had just moved in with, whom I had dated for six years now and the one I assumed I would marry one day, was becoming like a stranger to me. Our once common ground seemed to be disappearing, and the move to the cottage—which was meant to cement our relationship—had instead exposed cracks in it that I hadn’t noticed before. As hard as it was for me to accept, I was beginning to suspect that our hearts might be very different.

  “It’s nothing. Really,” I lied. I swallowed hard, but there was still a lump in my throat. “Just growing pains, I think. We’re both adjusting to the fact that we’re also roommates now, not just boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  She smiled. “Yes, that’s a big adjustment. After your dad and I were married, I didn’t know how long I’d make it after I learned he couldn’t fall asleep without listening to WQXR on the clock radio. I wasn’t a big fan of classical music back then.”

  “Are you even one now?”

  “I can appreciate a string quartet far better than I could when I was twenty-two,” she laughed. “Back then, I just wanted to listen to the Beatles or Sam Cooke.