Jimmy's Stars

by Mary Ann Rodman

  Good! Ellie thought. I don’t have to share him with anybody. At least not yet.

  Jimmy grabbed Ellie’s hand and burst into “The Hut-Sut Song”. She quickly scanned the block to see if anyone was around to hear. It was one thing for the King Sisters to sing “Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah” on the radio, and quite another for your big brother to do it on Macken Street in broad daylight.

  “Sing,” Jimmy urged. “Let the joy out.”

  “Why can’t you let it out where people can’t see or hear you?” Ellie said.

  Jimmy dropped her hand. “Gee, Movie Star, life’s too short not to be happy.”

  Ellie shot him a look.

  “All right, all right,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be joyful when you’re not around, okay?”

  “Okay.” Ellie squeezed his hand. They both said, “No hard feelings?” Then, laughing, “Owe you a nickel,” as they did whenever they said the same thing at the same time.

  Jimmy picked up his pace. “Shake a leg, girl. I’m hungry.”

  Ellie shook a leg, and once again tried to keep up with her brother’s long legs. At the terrace steps that led from the sidewalk up the steeply sloped lawn, Jimmy paused and sniffed the air. “Salmon pea wiggle?”

  “Yep,” said Ellie, wrinkling her nose.

  Jimmy laughed. “Hey, kiddo, don’t you know there’s a war on?” He took the steps two at a time. “Hurry up.” He banged through the screen door as Mom yelled, “Will you kids stop banging that screen door?”

  Ellie paused at the mailbox; she could see envelopes through the mail slot. She twirled the lock and lifted the lid. Three letters. One from Gramma Guilfoyle in West Virginia. One from Aunt Toots, Mom’s youngest sister, who lived with Gramma. And one envelope addressed to Mr. James Armstrong McKelvey. From Selective Service. Official Business.

  The draft board.

  Her stomach nosedived, the way it did on the Dips at West View Park.

  Inside, Jimmy called, “Mom, I’m starving. When’s supper?”

  “Sally Jane, get off that telephone now!” Mom yelled. Pot lids clattered and a drawer slammed. “I need help in the kitchen.”

  “Upside down, inside out, this house is like a three-ring circus,” Pop shouted over his news programme. “Can’t a man have some peace and quiet? Sal, help your mom lift supper to the table.”

  Ellie slumped against the porch glider, listening to the familiar suppertime noises.

  She put the letters back in the box, took a deep breath, and went inside.

  That night, Ellie lay in bed, watching the dotted curtains breathe in and out of the windows in the autumn-tinged breeze.

  Downstairs, she could hear the laughter of a radio show audience. Bob Hope, probably. She smelled the pungent remains of salmon pea wiggle.

  Across the alley, Mr. Gandeck’s accordion wheezed out “Oh Marie”. When the Gandecks had a fight, Mr. Gandeck played “Oh Marie” because that was Mrs. Gandeck’s name. Ellie wished they’d make up so she could go to sleep.

  Go to sleep and pretend that things would always be the same…Bob Hope and salmon pea wiggle and “Oh Marie”. Seeing Lana Turner pictures with Jimmy at the Liberty.

  Pretend that there wasn’t a letter in the mailbox for Mr. James Armstrong McKelvey, from Selective Service.

  Official Business.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BY ORDER OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, JAMES ARMSTRONG MCKELVEY IS TO REPORT TO UNION STATION AT 6 A.M. ON THE DAY OF OCTOBER 2ND, 1943.

  Ellie counted the days on the kitchen calendar. October 2nd was a Saturday. Twenty-one days until Jimmy had to go. That was a long time. Maybe the war would be over by then.

  But the days slipped by as fast as the trees shed their leaves. And the war didn’t end.

  The Saturday before he left, dozens of Jimmy’s friends came by the house to wish him well. High school friends. Friends from the neighbourhood. Friends from work. Some Ellie knew; some she didn’t.

  When it looked as though a party was going to happen, Jimmy went upstairs to change clothes. He came back wearing his Hawaiian shirt, hula girls and palm trees swaying from collar to hem. Jimmy only wore it on “special occasions”.

  “Hubba-hubba,” Sal commented, heaving old copies of Life magazine into the entry closet.

  Jimmy struck a pose. “Am I not the very image of Bing Crosby in Road to Singapore?”

  Ellie smiled. “You sure it wasn’t Bob Hope? He was in that movie, too.” She and Sal had pooled their money to buy Jimmy that shirt for his birthday. Somehow, it just looked like Jimmy, crazy and carefree.

  More people showed up, and before long, boys were rolling up the carpets and shoving furniture against the walls. Pop glowered as they pushed his Morris chair and ottoman into a corner. He pushed both right back to their spot by the radio.

  “You kids want to dance, do it around me,” he grumbled. “Got a bum leg, y’know.”

  Word spread. “Party at the McKelveys’. Jim’s going in the service.”

  As afternoon faded to evening, neighbours arrived with food. Mrs. Gandeck bustled in with her famous dumplings, the aroma of cooked onions filling the house. Trudy Hale arrived hefting a platter of chipped ham. Meanwhile, Mom was in the kitchen, using the last of September’s sugar ration and stirring up Jimmy’s favourite, gingerbread with cream cheese icing.

  Mr. Green brought a bucket of ice cream and his grown daughter Ruthie to scoop it.

  “Howsabout a little goodbye sugar, Ruthie?” Jimmy teased.

  “Jimmy McKelvey, you’re the biggest kidder,” said Ruthie, hugging the elbows of her mouse-grey cardigan.

  “Then I’ll just have to take that sugar myself.” Jimmy dipped Ruthie backwards, giving her a long, noisy kiss. Her ice-cream scoop clattered to the floor.

  “Whoo-hoo!” hollered Mr. Gandeck. “The Army has landed!” His accordion crashed into “Roll Out the Barrel”, and Jimmy swept the breathless Ruthie off in a clumsy polka.

  Over and over, Ellie was asked, “Aren’t you proud of your brother?” She smiled and nodded, all the while thinking, No! I don’t want him to go. Finally she hid in the phone nook under the hall stairs, where she could see without being in the thick of things.

  The party swirled on around Pop and his bum leg. “Yes, we’re proud of him,” he shouted over the music, when people stopped to talk. “General Patton better watch out for General McKelvey! Admiral Nimitz, too!” When there was a break in the well-wishing, he waved Ellie over. “Peanut, how long are these folks going to stay? Gang Busters comes on the radio soon.”

  “Beats me.” Ellie shrugged. “They’re having a good time.”

  “I wish somebody would pull the plug on Gandeck,” Pop grumbled. “The only two songs he knows are ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ and ‘Oh Marie’.”

  Mr. Corsiglia, the grocer, stuck his head in the front door. “Soda pop in the ice tub out here. Get ’em while they’re cold.”

  “Save one for me,” shouted Mr. Gandeck, hoisting the accordion from his shoulders. “I’m taking a break.”

  “Hallelujah,” said Pop. “Maybe the place will clear out.”

  But Jimmy was already at the record player. Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” filled the room, slow and dreamy. Someone snapped off the lights, and couples crowded the makeshift dance floor.

  “That does it,” said Pop, struggling to his feet. “I’m going to listen to the radio in the kitchen. At least a man can hear himself think out there.” In a minute, Ellie heard the gunfire and police sirens of Gang Busters.

  Ellie found Stan and Jellyneck in the dining room, building skyscraper sandwiches with Trudy’s ham. Jellyneck looked grubbier than usual, with his dirt-streaked jersey, and socks drooping into battered tennis shoes. He pulled a chair up to the buffet table and dug into the mountain of food on his plate, ignoring folks reaching over his head for ham and potato salad. Ellie and Stan leaned against the sideboard with their food, watching the action in the living room.

  “Eu
ww.” Stan waved his fork towards the dancers. “Look at ’em. Stuck together like wet leaves.”

  “Euww,” Ellie echoed, but secretly she thought that someday, dancing with a boy might be fun. She watched Jimmy drift by with Trudy.

  “She Jimmy’s girlfriend?” Jellyneck asked around a mouthful of potato salad.

  “No,” Ellie said. But she’d share him with anybody, if only he wouldn’t go away.

  “Moonlight Serenade” ended, and the lights flashed on.

  “Enough of that slow stuff,” shouted Sal. “Pep it up!”

  As Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” thumped through the room, Sal snared one of the high-school-age Jelineks, flinging him into a jitterbug. There were nine Jelinek brothers, and they all looked alike to Ellie. They just came in different sizes.

  Sal and her partner did some fast side kicks, their feet never missing a beat.

  “Wow, Sal’s some dancer,” said Jellyneck.

  “Yeah,” said Stan. “She even makes Donnie look good.” He squinted. “Or is that Sam?”

  Victoria sidled up to the table, soda pop in hand. Ellie eyed the bottle suspiciously. Shook-up pop was as good as a squirt gun, and sticky, to boot.

  “I’ll bet your brother goes in the Army,” said Victoria. “That’s not as good as the Marines. The Marines are real heroes.” She dipped a hand into the bowl of shelled peanuts. “My brother Buddy is gonna bring me home a Jap flag.”

  “Zowie,” said Jellyneck. “Maybe my brother Orrie can bring me one of those.”

  “I doubt it,” said Victoria. “Not unless he’s a Marine in the Pacific. That’s where all the real fighting is going on.”

  “No,” said Jellyneck, hanging his head. “He’s an Army clerk at Fort Dix, New Jersey.”

  Victoria’s smirk made the blood pound in Ellie’s ears.

  “You just wait, Victoria Gandeck,” she snapped. “My brother will be a hero, you wait and see. Jellyneck’s, too.”

  “Sure,” said Victoria in a bored voice, and wandered off, popping peanuts in her mouth.

  “I thought you didn’t want Jimmy to be a hero,” said Stan.

  “I don’t,” Ellie snapped.

  “Don’t bite my head off.” Stan took a step back. “You’re acting all squirrelly again.”

  “I guess you’d know about squirrels, because you’re nuts,” Ellie retorted. She might have said more, if Mr. Gandeck hadn’t banged through the door announcing, “I’m back.”

  “Hey, Gandeck, play ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ again,” someone yelled.

  So he did. Again and again. Roll out the barrel, we’ll have a barrel of fun.

  Ellie retreated to the phone nook, too pooped to fight with Victoria, Stan, or anyone else. She tried not to think about where Jimmy would be this time next week. Not the Marines, dear God, she prayed. Anything but the Marines. The Marines got in all the big action, just as Victoria said. The big dangerous action.

  The washtub on the porch held only melting ice. The ham platter and potato salad bowl were scraped clean, but the party roared on. Mr. Gandeck and his accordion had long since staggered home, but Sal kept the record player going with the loudest, fastest dance numbers she could find. The house vibrated with music and dancing and the feeling of time standing still.

  Ellie winked and blinked, willing herself to stay awake. Wanting this to last for ever. Everyone together, happy, safe, and the war far, far away.

  The dancers blurred, the music filled Ellie’s head, crowding out thought. Then the voices and melodies faded to a pleasant hum.

  She fell asleep.

  The music still played in Ellie’s mind as she sat in church the next morning.

  “Let’s open our hymnals and sing Number 100,” Reverend Schuyler commanded. The organist hit the opening chords of “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee”, banishing all thoughts of “Roll Out the Barrel”.

  Jimmy rolled his eyes and whispered, “Pep it up, why can’t she? What is this, a funeral?”

  Ellie stifled a snicker that turned into a snort. Mom leaned past Sal and Jimmy to mouth, “Be a lady.” Jimmy, of course, looked perfectly innocent as he let loose on “Joyful, Joyful”.

  After seven verses, and an eternity, Reverend Schuyler motioned for everyone to sit.

  A scrap of paper and stubby pencil landed in Ellie’s lap. Tic-tac-toe during Reverend Schuyler’s endless sermons was an Ellie-and-Jimmy tradition, easy to do since Mom and Ellie sat at opposite ends of the pew.

  She scratched an X as she gazed sideways at her brother and thought, Dear God, please keep him safe. If you do, I’ll pay attention in church for the rest of my life.

  Sundaymondaytuesdaywednesday. Ellie’s days flew by that last week, like a speeded-up movie. She tried to hold on to each minute. This is the last time Jimmy will eat meatloaf with us. The last time he’ll buy me a nickel pop at Green’s. No, not the last time. Just until the war is over.

  And then it was Friday, October 1st. The last Friday. Ellie waited for Jimmy at the car stop. Frank Sinatra’s velvety voice floated through Green’s screen door. “I’ll Never Smile Again”. The softball lump rose in Ellie’s throat.

  Cut it out! It was just a dumb song. Nothing had changed, yet. They’d walk home together and talk, just like always. And maybe, just maybe, Jimmy would say something special. Something that would take away the worry that had gnawed at Ellie ever since The Letter had arrived.

  The Number 10 ground to a halt, the door screeching open.

  “Good luck, young fella,” the grey-haired motorman called as Jimmy got off. “See you after the war.”

  “You betcha,” Jimmy said with a farewell wave. Then, to Ellie, “Hey, Movie Star, guess who I found downtown?”

  “Mr. Gandeck?” Ellie guessed as their neighbour appeared in the trolley door. Then she noticed Jimmy carried a scuffed valise.

  “So long, Jim,” called Mr. Gandeck with a sloppy salute. “Kick Hitler in the heinie for me.” He headed towards the Do-Drop.

  “Howdy, Small Fry,” a female voice boomed. Ellie looked up to see a younger, thinner version of Mom spring from the steps, lugging a giant hatbox. That is, if Mom had a frizzy permanent wave and wore saddle shoes.

  “What’s the matter? Dontcha know your own aunt?” The girl clapped Ellie on the back. Ellie reeled from the overpowering scent of Evening in Paris.

  “Aunt Toots?” It had been a while since Ellie had seen Mom’s sister. Toots was younger than Jimmy, but older than Sal. “Have you come for a visit?”

  “Better’n that.” Toots nudged her and winked. “I’ve come to stay.”

  “Stay?” Ellie repeated blankly.

  “You betchyer boots. The whole world was doing their bit for the war, so I said to myself ‘Toots, old girl, do you want to spend the war working at a five-and-dime in Lost Gap, West Virginia?’”

  “You did?” Ellie couldn’t figure out where the conversation was going.

  “You betcha. I thought, where can I do the most good for my country?” Toots paused, as if waiting for Ellie to answer. “At a war plant, that’s where, right here in Pittsburgh. And when I heard there was going to be a room to spare at your house, I knew it was meant to be. So I caught me a choo-choo, Jimmy met me at the station, and here I am.”

  “You’re staying in Jimmy’s room?” Suddenly Ellie felt dizzy, and it wasn’t just from all that Evening in Paris.

  “Yep. Say, sitting on my suitcase for five hours on a jam-packed train made me hungry. Let’s go put on the feed bag.”

  Toots and Jimmy headed up Macken Street, Toots yakking away. Ellie trailed behind, firing furious, evil thoughts to the back of her aunt’s head. This was Ellie’s special time with Jimmy, not Toots’s!

  Jimmy must have said something funny because Aunt Toots stopped in her tracks and laughed. A loud, honking laugh that made Ellie’s teeth hurt.

  “Your brother is a card, kiddo,” Toots said when Ellie caught up. “He’ll keep the troops in stitches.”

  Ellie couldn’t
think of anything to say that wasn’t rude or disrespectful.

  Toots punched Ellie’s shoulder. “Cat got your tongue? You sure are quiet. Little, too. How old are you? Eight?”

  “I’ll be twelve next July,” she said, gritting her teeth.

  “Coulda fooled me,” brayed Toots. “You grow ’em short here in the city,” she added to Jimmy, as if Ellie were invisible.

  When they reached home, Toots took the terrace steps two at a time. “I’m billy-goat hungry,” she called over her shoulder, “and you two are just poking along.”

  “Billy-goat hungry?” Ellie couldn’t resist asking.

  “Yep. So starved I could eat tin cans. Get it?” Toots and her honking laugh disappeared into the house.

  Ellie turned to Jimmy. “Did you know about this? I mean, before today?”

  Jimmy nodded, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah. Remember the day I got my induction notice? There were letters from Gramma and Toots that same day, asking if when I go in the service, Toots could come up and stay with us.”

  Ellie glared at her brother. “You could’ve warned me, you know,” she said.

  Jimmy shrugged. “Didn’t want to rub it in that I was leaving. Toots isn’t so bad. She’s a pretty good egg when you get to know her.”

  “Oh yeah, she’s a barrel of laughs.” Ellie tossed her braids over her shoulders with an angry head jerk. “Pittsburgh is full of boarding houses. Why is she staying with us?”

  “Grampa and Gramma would never let her live in a boarding house. Besides, she’s a paying guest. The folks are still catching up on the bills from when Pop was sick.”

  Ellie sighed, all the way from the soles of her sneakers.

  “C’mon, it isn’t as bad as all that,” said Jimmy. “As they say, it’s just ‘for the duration’. Besides, Toots will keep things lively around here. You’ll hardly miss me.”

  Wrong, thought Ellie as they went inside. I miss you already.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ellie awoke to the smell of waffles. And coffee, real coffee, so hard to get these days. But it was pitch black outside. Too early for breakfast.