Undaunted, Hayden begins to experiment with final poses—lying on top of the bed, hands crossed above his chest and head propped up slightly by a pillow. When Rosamond enters the room wearing one of Diana’s pale yellow summer dresses he leaps up as if he’s both astonished at the transformation and delighted by what he sees.
Rosamond pretends not to notice his pleasure, although she has to admit she’s been hoping he’ll make some comment, even if it’s just one of his jokes or sarcastic remarks.
“Well, well,” says Hayden.
“Well what?” asks Diana, following Rosamond into the room. “Dad, isn’t that dress attractive on Rosamond?”
“I’ve seen more meat on a butcher’s pencil.” Hayden hadn’t realized what a slender figure Rosamond was hiding beneath her flowing habit.
Rosamond looks away, crestfallen, despite her initial feeling that even a sarcastic acknowledgment would do.
“Dad!” scolds Diana.
“I didn’t say anything bad!” Hayden protests, a bit abashed. “It’s a lovely frock—nice as ninepence. You have a terrific sense of style, Diana. I’ve always said that about you.”
“You’ve never once said that about me,” she corrects him.
“I haven’t? Well, I’ve always thought it. Except for that short black leather skirt you wore in college.”
Rosamond breaks into a deep bronchial cough, and everyone is swiftly reminded that all they’re doing is temporizing, savoring what should be an ordinary moment as a way of staving off the grim reality of their situation.
As soon as Rosamond has caught her breath Diana announces, “We’re going shopping in the city—Lord and Taylor, Macy’s, then Eighth Street in the Village for shoes.”
“Have fun.” Hayden fumbles in his pocket and hands Diana his credit card. “It’s on me. And make sure to get something for yourself.”
“Why, aren’t you coming?” Rosamond appears surprised and feels a stab of disappointment.
“Dad, shopping?” Diana scoffs. “He never even went into the department stores he insured.”
Hayden is momentarily uncertain of what to do. “No, I mean, well I, Joey, that is . . . I’ve got to . . .”
Just then Joey appears in the hallway and gives Hayden an angry look. How many times did he have to tell his grandfather to stop acting happy about dying?
“I’m going with them,” says Joey without looking at his grandfather. “Mom is letting me pick out my birthday present.”
But Hayden mistakes the fury in Joey’s youthful countenance for determination and hops off his new bed. “Then that settles it. I’d better go and get me loafers.”
Diana’s jaw drops in amazement while Rosamond smiles self-consciously. When Hayden goes upstairs to change his slippers for shoes, he’s shocked to find that Linda’s old bedroom, now a sewing room, is experiencing a snowstorm of white feathers, constantly renewing itself from the air swells created by the ceiling fan overhead, which someone has turned on high. On the floor he finds the slashed carcasses of three pillows. It’s only now that Joey’s strange mood sinks into Hayden’s consciousness. Apparently the hospital bed has not been perceived as an all-around success. The lad wasn’t known for throwing tantrums and destroying bedding. In fact, the worst thing Hayden can recall him doing was getting Silly Putty on the couch cushions, and that was an accident.
Hayden switches off the fan and the delicate feathers drift downward until they come to rest on the floor, bedspread, and bureau. Now why would Joey go and do something like this? Then Hayden remembers the morning of his father’s death, when he’d stalked out to the barn and broken up the hay bales, pitched the lose straw down onto the floor, and then buried himself underneath the huge pile.
“Dad, are you okay?” From downstairs comes the ever-vigilant voice of the woman able to channel Florence Nightingale.
“Yes, yes. Just polishin’ my shoes.” He closes the sewing room door so that his daughter doesn’t find the mess before he can sneak back in later and clean up while Diana’s preparing dinner. And there were extra pillows in one of the closets. Mary used to stock up whenever linens went on sale.
When Hayden appears on the landing Joey is fearful that his grandfather is going to yell at him. Or worse, tell on him, which means he’ll be grounded and the birthday present will be postponed, if not canceled. And knowing his mother, she’ll probably call the Wildlife Refuge and find that goose feathers carry deadly diseases, and they’ll all have to check into the hospital for painful tests and blood transfusions. But Joey decides that he doesn’t care if he gets punished. He’s not sorry he did it. His grandfather shouldn’t have ordered that stupid deathbed.
Except that Hayden only pulls Joey close and, as if nothing had happened, says, “So we’re going shopping! It’s just like Christmas in July. Almost makes you wish it was snowing, doesn’t it Joe-Joe?”
Diana is too concerned about making it to the stores before the lunchtime crowd to pay attention to Hayden’s exchange with her son. And thus the pair are able to leave without tripping her radar, except for the white feathers that Diana plucks from the back of Hayden’s bushy mane as they climb into the car.
Once inside the large air-conditioned department store Hayden and Joey peer from behind a rack of bathrobes and eye the heavily made-up models offering perfume samples and makeovers to the passing parade of shoppers. Then Hayden pulls Joey over to the lingerie department where a mannequin dressed in only a skimpy black negligee holds their attention for a long period of time. Fortunately Joey seems to have reverted back to his normal, amiable self.
They wander through the racks of pastel-colored bras with matching panties and leopard-print teddies. The heart-shaped sachets tied with pink ribbons emit a powerful blast of hydrangea, and when combined with the silk nightgowns brushing up against their arms, leaves them slightly dizzy.
“May I help you?” asks a gorgeous young woman with aquamarine eyes and long strawberry-blond hair who is poured into a clingy and low-cut purple sheath dress.
“No!” Hayden practically shouts. “I mean, yes, we’re lost.” Hayden looks at Joey and places his hands on his grandson’s shoulders. “We’ve lost this poor child’s mother. Perhaps you could direct us to ladies’ sportswear.”
The woman smiles knowingly and says, “Right on the other side of those escalators.” She points a burgundy-tipped finger toward the opposite end of the store.
Hayden and Joey pause at the brightly lit jewelry counter, glass cases glittering with stones and gold chains in all shapes and sizes resting in dark green velvet-covered trays. “Joe-Joe, let me give you a little lesson about women. See all this stuff here?” He points to the bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. “It all has a secret code with women. Men don’t have a copy o’ the code. But we’ve figured out most of it,” Hayden whispers conspiratorially. “Do’an’ ever buy jewelry at the start of a relationship, because then you don’t have room to grow. After six months or a year you get her a nice pair o’ earrings.” Hayden taps on the case to indicate the gold hoops. “Then on the second Christmas you buy the bracelet. If she’s expectin’ an engagement ring but you’re not quite ready you can stall with a necklace containing her birthstone.”
Finally Hayden points accusingly at the diamond rings. “These you don’t go near under any circumstance, unless you’re very very sure you want to marry the lass. There’s no such thing as a friendship diamond, no matter what her sister tells you, do you understand me?”
“But what about after you’re married?”
“Oh, that’s easy. She just charges whatever she likes and brings it home, holds up what you bought for her, and you pretend to have a heart attack when the bill arrives.”
Hayden hears Rosamond’s cough coming from the women’s clothing department followed by her voice. “That’s too expensive. I mean, I think I only have six months or something . . .”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” insists Diana. “You sound just like Dad. He won’t even renew his mag
azine subscriptions. I could just as easily say the same thing about a New Year’s Eve dress—that I’m only going to wear it once so I shouldn’t pay very much. But that’s no way to live.”
“At least it isn’t if you have credit cards,” Hayden says to Joey as they approach the women, but Diana overhears him.
“Very funny, Dad. Now come back here to the changing room and keep an eye on our things.”
Hayden and Joey sit down on an overstuffed pink velvet couch in a lounge area along with a number of men who are dismally waiting, covered in shopping bags and women’s purses. Some are sleeping with their heads tilted back and mouths open as if they’ve been there for days. Three are huddled around a portable TV watching a ball game. Joey and Hayden play paper, scissors, stone while Diana reviews the nearby metal racks to see what other shoppers have rejected.
Two of the men have started laying side bets on Joey and Hayden’s game in order to help pass the time. “Joe-Joe, now don’t just throw out anything—you need to have a strategy,” Hayden counsels his grandson. “You have to try and determine what I’m thinking and then head me off. To be successful in life one must always anticipate.”
Rosamond eventually emerges from behind the curtain wearing a tangerine-colored summer skirt and a white blouse with flowered lace trim. Diana rushes over to adjust the collar and turns up the cuffs on the sleeves. “What do you think?” Rosamond twirls around, unaware of her spontaneous and profound femininity, but anxious for Hayden’s reaction.
Several of the men wake with a start and like trained lab rats automatically drone: “Terrific,” “I love it,” “Is it time to go?” But upon realizing it’s not they who’ve been summoned, after an appreciative look at the attractive stranger, most either turn to the ball game or doze off again.
Hayden gazes at Rosamond approvingly. To him it appears as if she’s ready to dance on a moonbeam. “It’s . . . it’s more lovely than the fair city o’ Perth.” And it is, at least on her. He’s seen figures more shapely and faces more strikingly beautiful, but never such perfect grace. Her sweetness fills the room like a gentle perfume and even a few of the men continue to gaze upon her with pleasure.
“Thank you. Diana picked out a few things. She thought the white cotton blouse gives me continuity with Catholicism and that the flowers are nice and cheerful for summer.”
Thrilled by Hayden’s reaction, Rosamond turns once again to examine herself in the long mirrors. She’s not so much captivated by the dainty look of her new clothes as by the weightlessness of the fabric. Without the heavy cross and layers of thick cotton for ballast, Rosamond feels as if she might float up toward the ceiling like an escaped helium balloon. For the first time since before checking into the hospital almost two months ago, she’s not experiencing that ever-present shortness of breath.
“I’m always tellin’ Diana that she inherited a wonderful sense of style from her dear departed mother,” Hayden says as he continues to admire his new houseguest.
She, in turn, feels the pink flooding her cheeks, and unaccustomed to being the center of attention, darts back into the changing room.
chapter eighteen
On the afternoon of the Fourth of July, Hayden takes Joey out front and shows him how to change the gas tank on the grill and then fire it up for a cookout. Joey reminds his grandfather that he wants his hot dogs charbroiled until they’re black and crunchy.
“I can already taste the cheeseburgers with pickles and catsup, a big bowl of barbecue potato chips, and onion dip,” says Hayden as he loudly smacks his lips. “And then washing it all down with some cold beers and a shot of whiskey.”
Getting into the spirit Joey says, “I’m going to roast a whole bag of marshmallows and melt chocolate bars onto graham crackers and show Rosamond how to make s’mores!”
As they continue to plan their dream menu, Diana strides out front with a platter that appears to contain mushy flat tennis balls, not freshly made hamburgers and foot-long hot dogs. “This looks like pond scum,” says Hayden.
“Or mold,” suggests Joey and pokes at one of the spongy green “hamburgers” with his finger.
“Better than burgers!” announces Diana.
“Garden boogers,” yells Joey, quickly picking up on their uncanny resemblance to snot.
“Joey, stop that at once!” his mother insists. “For your information, they’re sage patties, free from nitrates. We’ll eat them on whole wheat buns and instead of potato chips loaded with carcinogens I’ve made a delicious tropical fruit chutney that we can have with frozen yogurt. I read that sage possesses regenerative properties for the liver. And that the tannic acid found in mango has a healing influence on the blood vessels while guava relieves asthmatic respiratory distress.”
“Chutney?” Joey proceeds to stick out his tongue, gag, and pretend to vomit onto the grass.
“Oh, bloody hell,” says Hayden and grimaces. “Diana, darlin’, you are about to spoil my favorite holiday.”
Hayden is forced to wonder if Diana is truly his biological daughter—garden burgers on July 4th? Ah well, he’d just have to mooch off the neighbors. There was an overwhelming sense of collegiality among the residents of the block, and with Hayden’s reputation for being a promoter of joy and enthusiasm, he was a sought-after guest. The neighborhood children were especially big fans of Hayden’s, since he always purchased a large quantity of whatever they were selling for school or Little League. Despite his characteristic thriftiness, Hayden’s heart always went out to a young salesperson.
“Come on now,” pleads Diana. “Rosamond is very excited about the almond milkshakes that I’m making. According to my book on Chinese herbs, they’re supposed to help with lung problems.”
After Diana heads back into the house, Hayden attempts to cheer Joey. “Don’t worry. She’s not going to pee on our parade. Winners never quit and quitters never win, always remember that.”
By late afternoon the rest of the neighbors have gathered in front of their town houses, barbecuing and partying, and waiting for the fireworks to begin. The Haitians and Dominicans have organized a steel-drum band at the end of the street and play languid upbeat rhythms. A jumble of white, black, brown, and Asian children begin jumping around together and shouting for a sprinkler to be turned on.
Hayden is especially fond of Brooklyn’s immigrants—Russians, Mexicans, Nigerians, Koreans, Orthodox Jews, and families from the Caribbean. Some live together in communities and maintain their separate cultural identities. But most join the hubbub of integrated neighborhoods and preserve the best of their native lands—recipes, music, crafts, and dress, such as the many colorful cotton skirts and headscarves worn by the Jamaicans and Trinidadians on the MacBrides’ street. The neighborhood is filled with the singsong speech of the West Indies, where people stress the ends of their words and vibrant conversation is a form of entertainment.
Hayden often thinks that if only the rest of the world could see the results of this grand experiment—people exactly like them, worried about paying their rent and raising their kids right, but without paying much mind to the color or religion of their neighbors. Whether Asian, African, or American, people want a decent place to live, decent food to eat, to be around long enough to watch their children grow and prosper, and not be pushed around by lunatics with guns. If they’d just realize there was only one life, this one, and there was only one race, the human race. Then perhaps all the killing could finally come to an end.
Hayden and Joey pretend to eat their sage patties by biting into the rolls. But as soon as Diana runs into the house for a phone call they quickly toss them into the trash.
“I do’an’ even think the raccoons will make a run at those,” says Hayden.
“What’s wrong?” asks Rosamond. “I think they’re good.”
“Call me when your old convent publishes their recipe book, Someone’s in the Kitchen with Jesus—101 Things to Do with Campbell’s Mushroom Soup,” quips Hayden. “Then we’ll let you be the taste-test
er.”
Fortunately, when it’s time for the tropical fruit chutney, Tony arrives to take Diana to the giglio festival in the Italian and Polish neighborhoods where the North Side of Williamsburg meets Greenpoint. His brothers are running a booth of carnival games and his sisters and aunts will keep them busy at the church bingo game until long past midnight. Diana assumes that Joey is excited about attending the festival and riding the Ferris wheel, an activity his mother has deemed asthma-safe.
So Diana and Anthony are surprised when Joey begs off, saying that he wants to watch the fireworks in the park across the street. What his mother doesn’t know is that her son has other, top-secret plans.
As soon as Tony’s shiny black Monte Carlo has turned the corner Hayden and Joey both grab one of Rosamond’s hands and make a dash for the Palowskis. Just three doors down, Ed and Sophie are barbecuing for their nine children, six brothers and sisters, and umpteen grandchildren, nieces, and nephews, as they do every year.
There’s always plenty of extra food since most of the family work at local packing plants, warehouses, trucking companies, and the Costco in Long Island City. The leftovers, slightly irregulars, and those boxes that just never made it onto the forklift are known throughout Brooklyn neighborhoods as “swag.” And people constructed elaborate barter systems, such as beans for toilet paper and pet food for baby food, depending on where the neighbors and various members of the household were employed.
The three party crashers are ushered to the overflowing picnic table and finally dig into greasy cheeseburgers, vats of potato salad, and charbroiled hot dogs. And Hayden is given his very own family-size bag of potato chips. Rosamond bites into a hamburger just off the grill and the juice trickles down her chin. Without a free hand to wipe it off she turns away embarrassed. But Hayden mops it with a napkin and laughs wholeheartedly, then bellows with amusement, “Now that’s a burger! And it doesn’t leave grass stuck between your teeth.”
“Yes,” agrees Rosamond. “It is rather tasty.”
Last Call Page 10
