Jimmy's Stars

by Mary Ann Rodman

  Then she remembered.

  October 2nd.

  The luminous green hands of the alarm clock pointed to four-fifteen. Downstairs, she could hear breakfast clatter. Across the hall, Sal sang over the spattering shower.

  “Girls,” Mom called upstairs. “Get a move on. We have to be downtown by six.”

  Half asleep, Ellie staggered to the bathroom. “Hey, songbird,” she shouted, pounding on the door. “Leave some hot water.”

  She took her own sweet time, but finally Sal banged open the door, steam whooshing out behind her.

  “All yours, Peanut,” she said, rubbing her wet hair with a towel.

  Leaning against the sink, Ellie turned on both taps, splashed her face, and discovered that Sal had taken all the hot water. Well, she thought, at least I’m awake now!

  Swiping at the steam-fogged mirror with her pyjama sleeve, Ellie peered at her reflection. For a minute, she was tempted to just run a comb through the top of her hair, without redoing her braids.

  Sighing, she pulled the gum bands from her braids, then brushed and rebraided her hair. Not that it did much good. For the millionth time, Ellie wished she had Sal’s naturally curly hair. She felt like a wren in a family of cardinals. When they all walked down the street together, people turned to look at Sal and Jimmy with their picture-perfect hair and toothpaste-ad smiles. Ellie could be a smudge on Sal’s saddle shoe, for all anyone noticed her.

  Her stomach ached. After today, they wouldn’t walk down the street all together again for a long, long time. She replaced the comb and brush in the medicine chest and slammed the mirrored door. Hard. That felt good.

  Back in their room, Sal stood at the closet, a dress hanger in each hand. Her hair, Ellie noted with disgust, was already drying in damp ringlets. The scent of Sal’s April Showers talcum powder was so strong, Ellie could almost taste it.

  “Didn’t you hear Mom say to hurry up?” asked Ellie as she buttoned her new school dress, a red plaid. The one dress that wasn’t a hand-me-down from Sal.

  “I can’t decide.” Sal held up first one dress, then the other. “I want to look nice. There’ll be a lot of people at the station.”

  “You mean boy people.” Ellie tied her velvet Sunday ribbons to her braids. “Like they’re going to be looking at you.” She went downstairs, leaving Sal still hypnotized by the dress hangers.

  “Don’t you look perky,” Aunt Toots called to Ellie as she came into the warm, bright kitchen. She ladled batter into the waffle iron. “One waffle or two?”

  “One.” Ellie didn’t know how she could eat even one. Not with that pain in her stomach and lump in her throat.

  Mom poured Ellie’s milk into her Captain Midnight tumbler. Pop read the morning paper, the Post-Gazette, as he sipped his coffee. Across the table, Jimmy shovelled in waffles as fast as he could spear them. Just like any morning.

  But it wasn’t any morning. Dark windows reflected a blurry, ghostly family moving about the kitchen. The ceiling light glared off the chrome toaster and breadbox. The grown-ups dressed in going-downtown clothes. Only Jimmy, in an old pullover and corduroys, looked his usual Saturday self.

  Pop folded the paper and frowned at his watch. “If Sal doesn’t get down here pronto, she’s not going to the station.”

  Mom shouted from the kitchen doorway, “Sal, hurry up.”

  Sal’s saddle shoes galloped down the stairs. “I’m here, I’m here.” And wearing her church dress, Ellie observed. And lipstick. And looking a little bustier than she had ten minutes ago.

  Aunt Toots dropped a waffle on Ellie’s plate.

  “Wow, real coffee,” said Sal, sniffing noisily. “Can I have some?”

  “No, you may not,” said Mom. “Not until you’re old enough for your own coffee ration. Now sit down and eat.”

  Toots plunked a plate in front of Sal.

  “I’m not hungry,” yawned Sal. “Good gosh, it’s practically the middle of the night.”

  “I’ll take hers,” said Jimmy with his mouth full.

  Any other morning, Mom would have said, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Any other morning, Mom would’ve noticed Sal’s lipstick and told her to wipe it off.

  Sal shoved her waffle towards Jimmy, then stood by the back door, admiring her reflection in the dark glass. Ellie skated her own waffle around the plate in a lake of syrup.

  “Movie Star, if you aren’t going to eat that, pass it over here,” said Jimmy, after polishing off Sal’s breakfast.

  Ellie handed her plate across the table without a word.

  “Don’t know where my next meal is coming from,” Jimmy said with a wink. “But I’ll bet it’s not gonna be waffles.”

  All too quickly, breakfast was over. Time to go.

  “Leave the dishes in the sink,” called Mom, putting on her Sunday hat in front of the mantel mirror. “Time enough later to do them.”

  Mom never left dishes in the sink.

  Turning from the mirror, Mom surveyed Jimmy. “Why didn’t you wear your good pants and jacket? Put on a tie?”

  Jimmy laughed and gave Mom a hug. “The service will give me all the clothes I need for the next couple of years.”

  Mom wasn’t pacified. “What will people think?”

  But Jimmy had gone out to the porch. “Better wear your coats. It’s nippy out,” he reported through the open door.

  Wrapped in coats and headscarves, the family stepped into the foggy darkness. How different her street looked at this hour between night and morning. Ellie shivered.

  “Cold, Movie Star?” Jimmy asked.

  Ellie nodded, putting her hands in her jacket pockets. But this kind of cold couldn’t be fixed with gloves or mittens.

  “Can’t see the hand before me,” Pop grumbled. “Why can’t we scrape the paint off the street lights? The Nazis aren’t going to bomb Macken Street.”

  “You never know,” said Mom. “Best to err on the side of caution.”

  “Well, it’s a blamed nuisance,” Pop said. “I don’t want to break my leg again, stumbling around in the dark.”

  “Sissies,” Aunt Toots scolded. “No street lights a’tall where I come from. Never were, likely never will be.”

  Stepping cautiously, the family made their way to the streetcar stop.

  Ellie crossed her fingers, hoping the streetcar would be late.

  Trudy Hale was waiting for them in front of the butcher shop.

  “A little something for the train,” she said, handing Jimmy a string-tied shoebox.

  “Wow, shoes!” he said, dropping his suitcase. “Just what I needed.”

  “Oh you!” Trudy playfully poked Jimmy’s shoulder. “It’s chipped ham sandwiches, dill pickles and molasses cookies. Eat the pickles first. They might soak through the wax paper.”

  “Thank you, Trudy,” Mom said. “With all the commotion, I forgot to pack a lunch.”

  Trudy waved off the thanks. “You can’t get chipped ham anywheres but Pittsburgh, you know.”

  “Gee, and I didn’t get anything for you,” said Jimmy, still in his kidding voice. “This will have to do.” He pulled Trudy to him and kissed her. Not a long, romantic kiss, but not the goofing-around kind he had given Ruthie Green, either.

  “Say,” Sal whispered. “I didn’t know Jimmy was that way about Trudy.”

  “He’s not,” Ellie whispered back.

  “How do you know?” Sal whispered, louder than before.

  “Cut it out, you two.” Aunt Toots nudged Ellie and Sal.

  Slowly, Jimmy and Trudy pulled away from each other.

  “You take care now, Jimmy McKelvey,” said Trudy. “Give ’em hell.” Her words were teasing, but her voice was serious.

  “You betcha.” Jimmy picked up his suitcase. “Better get inside before you freeze.”

  “I suppose,” said Trudy. But when they reached the car stop, Ellie looked back to see Trudy hugging herself in the pale light from the open shop door, leaves skittering at her feet.

  “Trudy
’s still there,” Ellie said.

  “Wave to your sugar,” Sal added in a sickly-sweet voice. Ellie shoved her. Sal shoved back. Jimmy raised a farewell hand just as the Number 10 clacked up the hill. The brightly lit, nearly empty car looked like a lightning bug in the dark.

  “Today’s the day, ain’t it now, Jim,” said the morning conductor, as he took their trolley tokens. “Won’t seem right, not seeing yunz first thing of the day.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Jimmy. “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Darn tootin’,” said the conductor. “Give them Nazis a run for their money. Wish I could go myself, but not with these peepers.” He pointed to his thick-lensed spectacles.

  Ellie took comfort in her brother’s words, and the bad feeling in her stomach eased a little. Back before you know it, is what he said.

  Mom and Pop sat behind the motorman. Jimmy started to sit across from them, Sal following. Ellie slid in front of Sal. No way was Sal sitting with Jimmy this morning.

  “Hey! What’s the big idea?” Sal said. “I was here first.”

  “Says you. One more word and I’ll tell Mom about the socks in your brassiere.”

  “No you won’t!” Shove. “You little sneak!”

  “Will too.” Shove. “Boy-crazy.”

  “Girls! Stop it!” Mom shouted. The girls’ mouths hung open in mid-insult. Mom shouting? In public? “Of all mornings to quarrel…”

  “But Sal pushed me,” Ellie protested.

  “Tattletale,” Sal snapped.

  “Behave like ladies,” Mom said through clenched teeth. “Or so help me I’ll…”

  “Whaddya say, Movie Star? Should we sit in our usual spot?” Jimmy suggested.

  “Sure.”

  They made their way to their favourite seat in the rear, the long bench. A backward glance told Ellie that Sal and Aunt Toots had taken the seat across from Mom and Pop.

  The trolley racketed through the silent streets as Ellie and Jimmy settled on the wicker seat. Outside, sleeping houses slipped by, a lit window here and there, the dimmed street lamps casting pale pools of light.

  “Someone else is up early,” said Ellie. “Maybe they’re joining the service today, too.”

  “Most likely they’re working the weekend shift,” Jimmy said. As if to prove him right, two women in overalls and headscarves, carrying lunch buckets, got on at the next stop. “Bet they work at Blaw-Knox,” he added.

  “Where they make radio towers?” With so many men in the service, women did all sorts of jobs these days, but Ellie had never thought of them building radio towers.

  “They switched over to war production, so who knows what they’re doing,” said Jimmy. “Top secret hush-hush stuff, you know.”

  “Oh, sure.” The women didn’t look top secret hush-hush, but you never knew.

  Toots swayed down the aisle after the women and sat in front of them. She turned around and started up a quiet conversation.

  “Bet she’s asking if they’re hiring at their plant,” Jimmy said.

  Clack clack. Clack clack. Clack clack. The last streetcar ride. Ellie stared at the advertisement rail above the windows. Tired? Nervous? Get your vitamins today in spite of the food shortages. Take Vimms Vitamins!

  This is stupid, Ellie realized. I should be talking, not reading ads! But what came out of her mouth was “Why do you have to go?” The tears that had threatened all week spilled over.

  Jimmy pulled a clean hanky from his jacket pocket. “I had a feeling you’d need this. Now start again.”

  “Why do you have to go?” Ellie blew her nose. “Why can’t somebody else go?”

  Jimmy’s eyes grew serious. “Somebody else has gone. Lots of somebodies. Movie stars like Clark Gable. All four of President Roosevelt’s sons. Even Glenn Miller. Think of the pictures Miss Granberry has on her wall.”

  Ellie knew all that, but it didn’t make her feel any better. “You’re special.”

  Jimmy covered her cold hand with his warm, rough one. “Those people are special to someone, too.”

  Ellie just listened.

  “Do I want to kill people? Hell no! If the service has to rely on my skills as a shooter, this war is in big trouble.”

  Ellie knew he was joking, but it wasn’t funny to her. “I don’t want you to get shot.”

  “Me either.” Jimmy squeezed her hand. “I’ll try to get one of those jeep-washing, paper-filing jobs.”

  “Promise?” asked Ellie. Jimmy always kept his promises.

  “I’ll do my best.” He laid a hand on Ellie’s headscarf, like a blessing. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole thing is over by Christmas.”

  “Really?” Ellie counted in her head. Not quite three months. Not so terribly long.

  “Why, sure.” Jimmy’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “When Hitler hears I’m coming, he’ll surrender on the spot. I won’t even need a gun.”

  Ellie giggled. “But seriously, will you really be home for Christmas?”

  Something changed in Jimmy’s eyes for just a minute. Or did Ellie imagine it?

  “Sure thing.” No, she imagined it. “Just keep the Christmas tree up until I get there. You know how Mom chucks it out December 26th.”

  “Sure thing,” Ellie repeated. “Shake?” The tightness in her chest eased. Jimmy never went back on a handshake promise.

  The trolley bumped along the silent Saturday streets, storefronts dark and blank-faced.

  “You know, Movie Star, getting drafted might be the best thing that ever happened to me. I was getting tired of all the wisecracks about fighting Hitler from Pittsburgh.”

  The trolley stopped, and a couple of sailors with duffel bags slung on their shoulders got on.

  “I’ve never been anywhere except to visit Gramma and Grampa in West Virginia.” Jimmy’s voice now sounded dreamy. “Maybe I’ll see England, like in that movie, Mrs. Miniver.”

  Ellie nodded, but Jimmy wasn’t looking at her.

  “Or maybe Paris, if we kick the Nazis out. I’ll bet that Eiffel Tower has some view. Do you think it’s taller than the Gulf Tower?”

  Ellie didn’t care if the Eiffel Tower was taller than the tallest building in Pittsburgh, or even the tallest building in the world.

  “You act like you want to go!” she accused.

  But Jimmy’s mind was someplace else. “Or maybe an island with hula girls and coconut trees. Wonder how coconuts taste right off the tree.” He sounded…happy.

  Smothered sobs knotted in Ellie’s chest. “Have a good time with your Eiffel Tower and hula girls,” she said, voice shrill. “You don’t care one little bit about us.”

  Jimmy blinked, as if he had been asleep with his eyes open. “Don’t, Ellie.”

  “Downtown, folks,” shouted the conductor. “End of the line.”

  “Let’s go, Movie Star.” Jimmy picked up his valise and Trudy’s shoebox.

  Ellie followed Jimmy’s worn plaid jacket down the aisle. I didn’t mean it, Jimmy. I’m sorry. But the words stuck in her throat.

  Slowly, she descended the trolley steps for the two-block walk to Union Station.

  Two blocks that felt like ten miles.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The last of the warm weather seemed to have left with Jimmy. Pop put on the storm doors and windows, banishing the screens to the basement until spring. On Monday, with the chill October winds whipping through their jackets, the sixth-graders started bringing their lunch to school so they wouldn’t have to walk home in the cold. But not Ellie. She went home at noon to check the mail.

  By late Tuesday, Ellie was at the end of her patience with the US Post Office.

  “Will you please stop checking the mailbox!” Sal sprawled across Pop’s chair, filing her nails and listening to Frank Sinatra records. “He’s only been gone three days.”

  “I’m not checking the mailbox,” Ellie said from the porch as she quietly lifted the mailbox lid…again. Still empty. She came back inside. “I’m watchin
g for Aunt Toots. To see if she found a job.”

  “Ha!” Sal scoffed. “Like you care. I don’t know what you’ve got against her.”

  “Don’t you think she’s kind of, well, loud?” Ellie flopped on the couch.

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Sal turned up the volume on the record player.

  “And rude?”

  Sal studied her nails. “Nah. She just tells the truth and doesn’t care how it sounds.”

  “Well, she should.” Ellie twiddled the fringe on the sofa pillow.

  “You’re just sore because she calls you Small Fry and Short Stuff.” Sal got up to change records.

  “Am not. What if we told her she stomps around like a cow, her hair looks like a Brillo pad, and she dresses like a colour-blind clown?”

  “Probably wouldn’t bother her at all. Now, shush. This is Benny Goodman.”

  “Sal,” Ellie yelled over Benny Goodman’s wailing clarinet. “Do you think she’s going to stay until the war is over?”

  “Like they say,” Sal shouted. “For the duration. Until the war is over.”

  Ellie was learning to hate those words.

  Mom came to the living room arch. “For pity’s sake, girls, turn down that noise.”

  “It’s Benny Goodman, Mom,” Sal said, turning the volume down slightly.

  “It sounds like a cat caught in a wringer,” Mom said as she left.

  Benny was blasting away on “Stompin’ at the Savoy”, so they didn’t hear Aunt Toots until she banged open the front door. “Ta-da!” she trumpeted. “I got me a job at Shiny Brite Mirrors.”

  “Good for you,” said Mom, returning from the kitchen. “Sal, put your feet on the floor and sit like a lady, please. And turn off that so-called music!”

  Sal rolled her eyes, but took Benny off the record player. “That’s swell, Aunt Toots.”

  Ellie picked at her cuticles and thought, Now we’ll never get rid of her.

  “What kind of job is it?” Sal asked. “You aren’t making mirrors, are you?”

  “I can’t tell you. Top secret,” said Toots. “The man who hired me said, ‘Lady, if you can run a sewing machine, you can work here.’ I didn’t tell him I couldn’t run a sewing machine, neither.”

  “Sewing machine, you say? Hmmmm.” Mom’s eyes had a look that Ellie knew well.