“Is that good or bad, Madcap? Mother and Clara aren’t even yelling at each other.”
“I don’t know, Annie. Daddy must have driven up today. When he arrived, Clara was nowhere to be found. She should have said something to the nuns.”
“I think escape was her only option,” I said.
“Mother didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her. Daddy must have called from the Mission. He’s on his way back now.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” I asked, really hoping she would know.
She exhaled white smoke with a fish mouth, shaking her head.
I lay down on Madcap’s bed and squished myself to the side by the wall so there’d be enough room for both of us. I closed my eyes. Images of the day swirled around in my mind. The waves and the brilliant sun, the contents of the glove compartment, the small alcoves in the wall surrounding the Mission, the crucifix with gold around the edges. The tips of Aaron Solomon’s fingers. Even the bum crack of Mutter Man and Lily’s tiny lips, the shiny floors of the hospital, and the smell. I awoke to the sound of voices downstairs. My skin was tight and sore, my arms wrinkled with dryness, my face hurt. Sunburned again. At first, I only heard the words that rose in volume.
Daddy’s voice… “bringing shame on the family.”
“What about the boy?” Clara asked. “He should be ashamed, too.”
“Who is the boy?” Mother asked.
“What difference does it make to you? Is he gonna marry me? At seventeen-years-old? Besides, no one would believe me.”
It was pitch dark. I stretched my eyes open to let any light in, and only when I sat up and turned my head behind me did I see the face of the electric clock, whose hands glowed white at 11:20. I looked for Madcap’s form in the dark. I could feel that she wasn’t there. The room seemed empty. It was pretty late, but it was a Saturday night, and I didn’t know if the big boys had come in yet. I would have heard a motorcycle if Paul was home. John was too fat to have a girlfriend; I imagined he had gone to bed already, but there was no way to know. The house was quiet except for the voices downstairs. Where had Madcap gone?
“Don’t you understand that once you show yourself at the school your reputation is ruined? And so is the reputation of this family!” Now Daddy was yelling. I imagined him getting red. He was probably pacing.
“I don’t care about my reputation.”
“That child is going to live a good life with its adoptive parents. You’d rather shame your father and mother and throw away your education and good upbringing than go to confession and do your penance?” Daddy’s angry voice didn’t leave much space for anyone else to respond.
“And what are you doing for that child? How are you going to raise that child?”
I heard a murmur of Clara’s voice, as she tried to say something, but he interrupted:
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you lost your willpower in the presence of this young man. I for one am not going to raise that child; I didn’t bring it into existence. Your mother and I have enough on our hands with all of you.”
I was shocked by Daddy’s statement. It was like turning a beggar away at Thanksgiving just because you don’t want to pay for their meal. You want familiar faces around the table. Would Jesus do that? I don’t think He would. Would the Blessed Mother? I listened for what Clara might say. Maybe she was as shocked as I was and couldn’t form a sentence. Then I heard Mother’s voice.
“The Sisters of Saint Isabella are kind women, Clara,” she said more gently. “Don’t you want to finish your education? If you keep this baby, how can you finish high school?”
I hardly heard another word. Something inside me was evaporating like neon leftovers of fireworks against a black sky. How could Mother be against Clara, too? It would be so easy to take this baby into our family! Maybe Clara could finish high school from home. She’s a senior already. I could volunteer to get her assignments from school. Okay, so we’d have to show our faces to the student body and admit our sister has fallen in God’s eyes. But hey! St. Paul the apostle strayed before he repented, and now he’s a saint. That’s what confession is for. Otherwise, what? Leave Clara doing all the hard chores while the lazy nuns pray themselves into ecstasy? Waiting until she has the baby and they take it away from her at the hospital? Like they did to Bee Bee? And let’s think about the baby for a change. Are adopted babies really as happy as real babies? With fake parents? It has to have an effect.
Daddy must be trying to “teach” Clara something. Maybe he thinks if she gets away with it then Madcap would get pregnant out of wedlock, and next thing you know, bingo! I’d be expecting a baby without a ring on my finger. Oops, then Jeannie! (She’d probably have twins.) Watch out, as soon as Rosie started to grow breasts, she’d be pregnant. All his daughters, pregnant like the plague and no one married in the church. He’d have twenty grand children before he could say “Bless me, Father for I have sinned.” We’d be the famous Christian family that started a runaway ex-Catholic population explosion. We’d be the rabbits of St. Andrew’s High School.
Of course, I wouldn’t do it. The part about having no clothes on is pretty much a guarantee for me. Madcap can see what a jam this is and she wouldn’t do it either. There’s too much humiliation. I would be so embarrassed to be pregnant in front of all my friends. They’d all be able to picture what I was doing! Which I would never do in the first place! How can Clara can say she doesn’t care about her reputation?
Teresa Feeney, watch out, I’m going to look you in the eye while you’re getting all the medals for “A’s” in math, and Science. And my stare is going to say, “Look what your brother did to our sister Clara.”
No one even knows Christopher Feeney is doing it! And he’s getting away with it. Clara should tell, for justice sake. He doesn’t have to go through any of this. It’s not fair!
Everyone’s a phony.
I walked back to my bedroom and lay on top of my covers.
A sound woke me up. Something was grazing the window. It was still dark, no moon. There it was again. I got up and walked over, lifted the wood frame by the handles. I stuck my head out.
“Hey, Skinny!” I could barely make out someone thin looking up at me. It was Madcap. She whisper-spoke.
“The doors are all locked, can you let me in?”
“I thought you were grounded!”
“Shhhhh! C’mon!” She motioned to the back of the house.
I tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as I could. A few creaks. Luckily we were at this end of the house while Mother and Daddy slept at the front. I had no idea what time it was. I opened the door to the hall and then stepped through the laundry room to unlatch the lock on the back porch. Shadows of piles of clothes lay still on the floor around the washing machine. Just as we closed the screen door, I could see headlights beaming up the driveway. The Rambler pulled into the garage, its red tail lights glowing.
“Get in!” I pulled Madcap’s sleeve. “It’s Daddy’s car! What time is it?”
“About 3:30 in the morning.”
“3:30 in the morning!”
“Why is Daddy out at this time of night?”
We hurried up the stairs. There was no time to figure it out. I was in my bed when I heard the doors close and Daddy’s footsteps walking the floors. I listened for Clara’s snoring down the hall, but I couldn’t hear a sound.
The next morning, I slept through 6:30 Mass.
Chapter 22
man the rails
August 4 – Dear Blessed Mother, Didn’t you hear my prayers in the back of the truck? I went through the whole day thinking I had gotten away with it!
When Daddy got home after Mass that Sunday, he said, as he was taking off his tie, “It’s a good thing you’re not in the Navy. You’d be keelhauled.” He kept asking where Madcap was. I had the feeling she was in trouble. Did Daddy find out we hitchhiked?
Usually no one really cares where Madcap is. She gets away with it because there are s
o many of us, and because she’s daring. Most of the time, she’s part of the wallpaper. She comes in, and she goes out. But today, there was something in the air.
At supper, just in case, I kept my head down and set the table, making sure I remembered all the stuff Daddy likes around his throne at the head of the table: his coffee cup, cream and sugar, his special knife, Tabasco sauce. His martini, which was in his hand. My mouth was already watering; we were having spaghetti, my favorite meal. I could see the steaming pasta in the colander in the sink. The smell of bubbling tomato sauce permeated the kitchen. Garlic bread sizzled in the oven.
“All hands on deck!” Daddy called. He had that urgent, commanding sound in his voice, which usually resulted in a general hup-to; no one wanted to be the one, the straggler he might single out at times like this.
“Man the rails,” he said and we all knew that meant we had to go to our place at the table and stand behind our chair at attention. Like we really were on a ship in the Navy. Sometimes this was fun; we’d puff out our chests and look sideways without moving our heads and pretend we’d just gotten back from the barber and all of us had buzz cuts and sailor hats. The last time he had us do this, it was when everybody was afraid of the atom bomb from Cuba.
Tonight, I thought Daddy was going to tell all of us what Clara was really doing up there in Ventura with the Sisters of Saint Isabella. After all, Clara was like the Blessed Mother: far from home in her time of need, pregnant and without a proper husband. But no.
“Annie and Margaret, come up here,” he ordered us in a clipped voice. Everyone quieted down as Margaret and I shuffled closer to Daddy. It’s amazing how just a little hint of menace can get the room so quiet you could drop a pin and it would sound like an orchestra. You have to stop breathing when Daddy means business like this. You have to watch his face and pay serious attention. Otherwise, it could be you on the wrong end of a paddleboard.
I tried to shrink in size. Most of the time it’s as if no one really sees me—or cares whether or not I’m in the room. I’m a number and I have a place. You try all the time to get noticed, but when Daddy’s voice sounds like this, there is nowhere to hide.
“Yesterday,” he began, and my stomach sank to the depths. His voice for sure had that sound to it. “Margaret and Annie left home with a stranger and took a ride in his truck all the way up the coast to Ventura.”
“He wasn’t a stranger!” Margaret cried out.
“Without permission,” Daddy said, cutting her off.
I stood to the left side of Daddy, and Madcap stood to the right. She was doing something with her eyes, squinting them, and her face wasn’t scared. She had a look on it like she was angry. I put my head down, looking at my bare feet, which were sunburned.
“Do you know what happens to girls who hitch-hike?” Daddy barked at Madcap.
We were going to get it.
It was a familiar moment. You know you’re going to get a beating, but it hasn’t started yet. You have to wait for it, but you really wish it was over. Or, you just hope it doesn’t go on too long. Maybe he’ll hit you just once for show. So everyone will know. An example. I usually pray for that, while I’m sweating it out. It’s never worked. This is where the Blessed Mother and Jesus could improve their act; it’s definitely a weak spot. Maybe they have a policy: “Do not respond to panic prayers.”
“Margaret, who is the older sister of the two here,” Daddy said, gesturing, “didn’t tell Mother where they were going. Instead, she and Annie hitchhiked in a truck with a stranger.”
“He wasn’t a stranger!”
“For hundreds of miles.” When he added it all up like that, it sounded bad. But he was making it all Madcap’s fault. I felt sorry for her. My bosom buddy, close pal, and life-long friend. On the other hand, maybe I was off the hook.
But Madcap was going to get it. It was so quiet. When Daddy took a breath, I could hear the arm of the Baby Ben on the mantle moving from one second to the next.
“Then, after disrupting Clara’s holy retreat,” Daddy continued, “the three of them ran away—again—without telling the nuns where they were going. These things are very, very serious. Even dangerous,” he said, shifting his weight on his feet.
“Do you hear me?” he asked rhetorically.
“We hear you,” John-the-Blimp offered. Everybody immediately mimicked him.
“We hear you.”
“We hear you.”
“It is forbidden to leave this home without telling anyone where you are!” Daddy was working himself up even more. “Do you understand that?” Nodding all around. Sheep. We were all sheep, especially when Daddy got like this. “For your own safety, never get into a vehicle with a stranger. Do you understand? Never.” Buddy and Dominic mouthed the word, “Never.” Daddy’s manner softened ever so slightly. He waited.
“Never…”
“Never.” Jeannie and Bartholomew piped up, and then everyone decided it was a good idea to say “Never.”
When the group died down, Daddy took his cue, lowering his voice for effect, “But the worst part of it was—Margaret put her soul in danger and led her younger sister Annie down the path with her.”
I myself wasn’t worried about my soul. All I did was pray to the Blessed Mother on the way back. But it was the worst thing Daddy could accuse Madcap of doing. Putting her soul in danger.
Jude started kicking his feet in his high chair where he was still waiting for his dinner.
“Eat, eat!” he said, laughing and kicking and looking around the table, trying to catch the glance of any one of us. The twins nervously giggled. No one else moved.
“Pipe down!” Daddy bellowed. Mother leaned over to Jude, touching his small hands.
“Shhh, shh,” she said gently.
I waited. The story wasn’t over. There was this big part about Clara being pregnant. I was wondering how he was going to handle that one. And besides, the heat was really hot on Madcap, and I felt sorry for her. Even though Clara was the obvious sinner.
“Put your hand out, Annie,” he ordered me. Me? I was just going along! Then he unbuckled his belt in front of everyone and pulled it out of the loops.
My cheeks burned a bright red. I started shaking right away. My chest was going up and down and I couldn’t hide how hard I was breathing.
At least he wasn’t going to make me pull my pants down in front of everyone.
“Never leave the house without permission. Never get into a vehicle with a stranger,” he repeated. The sound of the silverware against the plastic plates and his china coffee cup pierced the silence as he started to push all the dishes and silverware away from his place. So he wouldn’t hit them with the belt. “Even if your older sister tells you it’s okay, it is forbidden.”
“Now, hold your hand out in front of me.” There was a collective sucking in of breath around the table where everyone was standing at attention as Daddy wrapped the belt around his hand. I stretched my hand out, palm up, like he told me to do. Maybe if I were obedient, he would go easy on me. He lifted his arm up over his head and slapped the belt down on my hand like I was a horsehide.
“Owwwwwwww!” I said, pulling my hand away. “Owwwwwwww!” My eyes started to water from the sting. I started jumping around on my toes.
“Even if it wasn’t your idea, it was wrong to hitchhike. It was wrong to leave the house and not tell your mother where you were going. I’m going to give you something to think about. Bring your hand back there.” I kept thinking: I just have to bear it until he stops. But I couldn’t put my hand out; I backed away from him.
“Get over here and put your hand down on the table!” He grabbed my hand and laid it down, palm up on the table. Then he lifted his arm and let another one down. Whack!
“Two!” he said.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! Owwwwwh!” I had to cry out. I caught a glimpse of Rosie at the end of the table next to Mother. Her saucer eyes were frozen in terror, and her mouth was wide open. Mother got up and went into the kitc
hen. My neck started to get hot.
“Put your hand back there,” he commanded me.
“No!” I said, backing away. “It hurts!” He grabbed my hand again and laid it down on the table.
“Of course it hurts! I’m doing this for your own good. So you won’t forget!”
“Three!” he yelled and everyone winced as the belt came down. “Don’t you ever leave the premises without first getting permission, do you understand me?” I burst into tears at the sharp pain radiating on my fingers and palm.
“Yes!” I said. Just don’t hit me again, please. “Yes, I understand!” I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice.
“Put your hand back there,” he said. “And leave it there!”
Everyone standing around the table began to shift in their places. The twins were crying and rocking. Jude stared, perfectly still. Rosie slipped her thumb into her mouth and started sucking. Buddy put his head down on the table and covered his ears.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I said, “I won’t do it again, I promise!” I held my hand limply in front of me. He motioned me to put it back on the table.
“Put it there!” he yelled at me. My hand felt like it was about to fall off, and I couldn’t stop crying. Madcap was just a blur across from me.
“I said I was sorry! Daddy, please!” I pulled my hand away and the belt hit the table. I fell to my knees, sobbing.
“Mother!” I cried. “Mother! Help me!” The door to the pantry pushed open and Mother appeared in the dining room. Behind her, the door swung on its axis. She stood at the other end of the table with her arms crossed.
A Theory of Expanded Love Page 17
