Godmother Night

by Rachel Pollack

  Now Kate began to do all the things her mother had told her to do. She went up and spoke to girls at recess, she volunteered for things, she offered to help dumb (but popular) kids with their homework, she even bought plastic jewelry in vending machines and offered them to girls she’d marked on a list kept secretly in her composition book. To her amazement, nothing seemed to work. Some kids accepted her gifts of toys or answers, but no one invited her to do things, or told her secrets, or called her to join their groups in the playground. If anything, kids made faces or walked away when she approached them. Sometimes she just wanted to scream at them, “You all think you’re so great. You’re just stupid. You don’t know anything at all.”

  Trying to sound theoretical, she asked both Louise and Mark what makes someone popular. All Louise would say was, “Be yourself. If you fake it, people will know.” And Mark just gave her a Mark answer. “Emptiness,” he told her. “The more empty you are, the more people will try to fill you up.” Great, Kate thought. Thanks a lot.

  Kate thought things would change when she became friends with Alicia Curran. Alicia was in the same grade as Kate, but in a different class. Kate knew her slightly, and not just from gym or art class. Alicia was popular; you couldn’t help but know her. She was pretty, with wavy light brown hair that always looked freshly brushed. No matter what Alicia was doing, or what she was wearing, she gave the impression of sitting in a gold lace dress before an ornate mirror a hundred years ago. Like Kate, Alicia was smart. Unlike Kate, who refused to pander to the teachers by answering their questions, Alicia shot her arm straight up and often gave more details than the question demanded. For most girls, such eagerness would have left them shunned. For Alicia it somehow attracted followers. During recess she always stood at the center of a group of six or seven girls who served her with gossip or rumors—the “acolytes,” Kate called them, after she found the word in a book. According to a girl in Kate’s class, Alicia once told someone who wanted to be her friend, “I’m sure you must be very nice, but I’m afraid I just don’t have time for any new friends.”

  The day Kate talked to Alicia, however, Alicia was sitting all alone on a noisy school bus. The bus was taking the entire fifth grade on a field trip to a glass tower downtown, once the tallest building in the world. There they would take the elevator all the way to the roof, where Mr. Burke, the science teacher, would explain the forest of meteorological devices that helped the smiling man on television predict the weather.

  Kate hated having to go on a bus, especially a bus full of kids distracting the driver by their shouting and laughing. At any moment, the bus driver might turn around to holler at them and not see a truck or a lamppost. Sitting on the aisle as far from the boy next to her as she could, Kate fingered Mother Night’s silver whistle. She’d never tried it out, she realized. Maybe she should blow it, just to see if it worked.

  Trying to distract herself, Kate looked around. Alicia Curran, she saw, sat alone a few rows back. Where were the acolytes? Alicia must have banished them. She sat with her hands on her knees, eyes cast down on the back of the seat in front of her. Her lips moved. Kate stared. Was she whispering something? Then she realized: Alicia was praying.

  Kate walked over and stood next to her. “What do you want?” Alicia said.

  “Are you scared?” Kate said. She spoke very softly so the shouting kids behind them wouldn’t hear.

  “Don’t be dumb,” Alicia said.

  “It’s okay,” Kate said. “I get really scared on buses. I hate them.”

  Alicia looked up at her for what seemed a very long time. “Do you want to sit down?” she said. She moved over to the window. “I’m not really scared. I just don’t like buses. Anything can happen.”

  “I know,” Kate said. “Cars too.”

  “My father drives the car. He’s very good. With a bus driver you just never know.”

  “Uh-huh. He could be drunk. Or taking drugs.” Alicia didn’t answer. “I saw an accident once,” Kate said. “It was absolutely gruesome. Since then, if I have to go in a car or a bus, I just pray nothing will happen.” That wasn’t exactly true, she thought, touching her whistle.

  Alicia said, “You’re Kathryn Cohen, aren’t you?”

  “Kate. And you’re Alicia Curran.” She smiled. “It’s almost the same name.”

  “Cohen’s a Jewish name. Are you Jewish?”

  “I guess. We don’t light candles or anything.”

  Alicia leaned toward her. “Would you like to know a secret? I wish I was Jewish.” She added, “Then I wouldn’t have to go to church.”

  On the roof of the tower, Kate discovered that bus accidents were not the only thing that frightened Alicia. Even though the weather machines stood far away from the edge, and in fact a high fence kept people from even approaching the drop, Alicia stayed as close as possible to the door leading back to the gift shop and elevators. Though she wanted to hear Mr. Burke explain what the machines did, Kate stayed with Alicia.

  Alicia said, “Don’t you think it’s very windy here? It could just pick you up and carry you away.” She looked quickly at Kate, to see if she was laughing. Alicia went on, “I wish we could just look at it from the ground. The tower. Didn’t it look beautiful?”

  “Like a tower for a beautiful princess,” Kate said.

  “That’s right.” Alicia sounded surprised. She leaned closer and said, “Maybe these machines are really dragons, and a spell from a wicked witch prevents us from seeing them.”

  Kate pointed to a metal pyramid with a kind of windmill on top. “Maybe that’s where they’re keeping the princess.”

  “Yes. And we just think that’s the wind moaning, but it’s really the princess. She’s calling ‘Help me! Help me!’”

  Kate giggled. “Do you think Mr. Burke is the courageous knight who’s going to rescue her?”

  Alicia shook her head. “No,” she said. “I think you are.”

  With Alicia as her friend, Kate expected the other girls to accept her too. And they might have, except that Alicia kept them separate. When she wanted to talk to Kate she would ignore the others. “You’re my most special friend,” Alicia would say to her. “My knight.” But if Kate tried to join her when the acolytes were clustering, Alicia hardly spoke to her. At least it made Laurie happy when Kate brought Alicia home or when Kate went to Alicia’s house, a large apartment several blocks away, with high ceilings decorated with wreaths of plaster flowers.

  Kate began to notice more things that frightened Alicia. Food, for instance. Alicia never ate cafeteria food but always brought her lunch. “The food they serve here is simply poison,” she said. “And besides, you never know what they do to it in the kitchen. They could drip cigarette ashes in it.” She lowered her voice. “Or even pee in it.” People sometimes got fatal diseases from cafeteria food, she said. Alicia also wouldn’t go near anyone who coughed, or looked at all hot or sweaty. She avoided going to the girls’ room if at all possible, and if she had to go she seemed to take a long time washing her hands. Once, at Alicia’s apartment, Kate had to use the bathroom. Afterward, Alicia went in. The door was closed, but Kate suspected that Alicia was wiping down the seat, and even the sink, with disinfectant.

  For some reason she didn’t really understand, Kate didn’t want to ask her mom, or even her godmother, about Alicia’s fears. She felt embarrassed, as if she should shield Alicia from humiliation.

  Kate and Alicia remained friends, of a kind, throughout the summer. They would talk for an hour or more on the phone, or go for walks during which Alicia would tell Kate about all the boyfriends she was going to have. They looked through fashion magazines and studied the mannequins in store windows. Kate didn’t care about fashion much, but it excited Alicia so Kate was happy to do it. Once or twice Kate persuaded Alicia to go to a museum or gallery. Alicia acted so bored, however, that Kate stopped suggesting it.

  Alicia gave Kate a square of yellow silk and told her to treasure it always. At home, Kate didn’t know what
to do with it, so she folded it up and put it in her jewelry box.

  And yet, despite all this, there were times when Kate would call Alicia only to hear that she was “busy” and couldn’t talk. A couple of times Kate heard giggles in the background. The acolytes, she thought, and knew that Alicia was giving time to her other life.

  When school started again, Kate and Alicia were in the same class, with Alicia assigned to the desk right behind Kate’s. Alicia would whisper to her and pass her notes on special pink paper she hid in her desk. “Let’s run away,” one note said. “We can go live in a palace and tell our slaves to take all our tests for us.” But sometimes, when Kate leaned back to whisper something, Alicia wouldn’t answer, and if Kate tried to pass Alicia a note, Alicia pretended not to see it.

  One day, Alicia’s parents invited Kate to dinner. While Mrs. Curran cooked, Mr. Curran watched television, causing Alicia to roll her eyes and whisper to Kate, “I must apologize for my father. He’s usually much more civilized.”

  “That’s okay,” Kate said. “My mom and I watch the news every night while we make dinner.” She stepped closer to the TV, ignoring Alicia’s folded arms. “What are you watching?” she asked.

  Mr. Curran looked surprised at her interest. “A travelogue,” he said. “They’re touring the old castles of Germany and France. Kind of a comparison thing. It’s sort of interesting, actually. Some of them are all restored and modernized, and others are kind of crumbling.”

  Kate thought he sounded nervous. “That’s really cool,” she said. The picture showed spikes pointing down from the ceiling in a stone room. The TV voice explained that the spikes were to catch witches flying into the room to steal babies. Kate said, “I’d like to go see places like that someday.”

  Mr. Curran said, “I’ll bet you will, Kate. How about you, Alicia? Do you want to go visit castles in Europe?”

  Instead of answering, Alicia took Kate’s hand and pulled her away from the TV. “Come on,” she said. Kate heard Mr. Curran sigh as she followed Alicia. In Alicia’s bedroom, she said to Kate, “I’m never going to Europe. It’s just too dangerous.”

  “You don’t have to go by plane,” Kate said. “You could take a boat.”

  “I don’t care,” Alicia said. “There’s still terrorists.”

  “You’re so scared to get hurt all the time,” Kate said. “You can’t do anything if you’re just going to worry about getting hurt all the time.”

  Alicia put her hands on her skinny hips. “I am not,” she said.

  “Yes you are. You won’t even go outside if it rains, just in case there’s lightning.”

  To Kate’s amazement Alicia looked about to cry. She half whispered, “It’s not getting hurt I’m scared of.”

  “Well then, what is it?”

  “Dying. I’m scared of dying.”

  Something jumped in Kate. Did Alicia know? Did she see the dead? Did she understand? “Me too,” Kate said.

  Alicia started pulling on the ends of her perfect hair. “It’s just…I’m so scared of what happens.” Kate nodded. “It’s…I don’t want to go to hell.”

  “What?” Kate said.

  “My mother said I would go to heaven, but I know she’s lying.” Her voice dropped to a tearful whisper. “I was baptized too late. After I’d already sinned. I can’t really remember because I was so young, but I can feel it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Kate said. Alicia jumped back as if Kate had shouted at her. “There’s no such thing as hell. Or heaven.”

  “What do you know? You’re nothing but a Jew.”

  “Please,” Kate said. “Please just trust me. I know what happens when people die. I can’t explain why, but I really know. I really do.”

  “You don’t know anything. You’re just a Jew. The Jews made hell.”

  “That’s nutty,” Kate said. Seeing Alicia’s face, she decided to try something else. “I’m never going to die,” she announced.

  Alicia rolled her eyes. “Everybody dies. God kills everybody.” Kate shook her head. Suddenly Alicia was shouting at her. “Get out! Get out of my house. You’re a liar and a Jew.”

  As Kate backed out of the room, she heard Mr. Curran call out, “Alicia? Alicia, are you okay? What’s happening?” He was emerging from the living room as Kate ran past him to the door. “Kate?” he said, then, “No, please, Kate, don’t go. It’ll be okay.” He ran after her to the door. “I’ll talk to her. Kate, come back, please.” But she was already halfway down the stairs.

  For two weeks Alicia refused to talk to Kate. She turned her back when Kate came up to her at lunchtime, she didn’t answer when Kate whispered to her in class, she ignored the notes Kate held out behind her. When Kate called she only got Alicia’s parents, who sounded embarrassed when they told her, “Alicia can’t come to the phone right now.” After several of these calls, Mr. Curran finally said, “Look, Kate, you seem like a really nice girl, and personally I think my daughter is making a big mistake here. But the thing is, she doesn’t want to speak to you. I’m sorry. Believe me.” He sounded very sad.

  And then one day Alicia didn’t come to class. All that afternoon Kate wondered if she should call or go see her. If Alicia was sick maybe she’d like a visit. Kate thought of bringing her a magazine. Maybe she could wear the yellow square of silk. It would cheer Alicia up. Finally, however, she just told herself that she better stay home and do her homework.

  Alicia didn’t show up the next day as well. Kate wondered if she should speak to the acolytes. She almost went up to two of them after school. But she couldn’t stand the thought that Alicia might have spoken to them and not her. What if they’d visited Alicia? And what if she’d said, “Don’t tell Kate Cohen (the Jew) anything about me?”

  The following day the teacher made an announcement. “I have some sad news,” she said. “As you all must know, Alicia Curran has been absent the past few days.” Kate held her breath. Maybe one of the terrible accidents Alicia feared so much had finally happened. Could you make an accident happen just by being frightened of it? The teacher said, “She will be gone for another few days, I’m afraid. Her father had a heart attack two days ago. I’m sorry to have to tell you that he has passed away.” She held up a large card with a picture of flowers on the front—a condolence card, she called it—and passed it around for everyone to sign.

  Kate forced herself to keep her head down, her face grim, so that no one could see her excitement. Now Alicia would have to listen to her. No one else knew about death like she did.

  At home she kept the same downcast expression when she told her mother what had happened. “Oh sweetie, that’s terrible,” Laurie said. “Poor Alicia.” She gave Kate a hug. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Kate said. She had to think for a moment to realize that Laurie was worried death might upset her. “Can we go see Alicia?” she asked. “Maybe I could cheer her up or something.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s very kind. You’re a good person, do you know that?”

  They went that same evening, right after dinner. Kate tried to wear the yellow square around her neck, but it didn’t look right, too small, so she tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. On the way, they bought some flowers. Mrs. Curran answered the door herself. She wore a dark blue shift dress. A gold cross hung down over the high neckline. “Oh, Kate,” she said. “Hello. Did Alicia call you?”

  “The teacher told them at school,” Laurie said. “I’m Laurie Cohen, Kate’s mother.”

  Mrs. Curran smiled weakly. “I’m Josephine Curran,” she said, and held out her hand.

  Kate hated to leave her mom in the living room with Mrs. Curran and some other people, sipping tea and talking about children. But she just had too much to do. She found Alicia sitting on her bed, curled up in the corner, looking at a sitcom on her small TV as if she was frightened of it. She didn’t seem to notice Kate standing in her doorway. “Hi,” Kate said. Alicia didn’t answer. “I brought you flowers.” Kate stepped into the r
oom and held out the bunch she’d chosen.

  Alicia turned her head to stare at the flowers. “They’re the wrong kind,” she said. “Those are roses. You’re supposed to bring lilies when somebody dies.”

  Kate put down the roses. “I thought maybe I could talk to you. About your dad. And what happens to people.”

  “I don’t want you to. I don’t want to hear your weird ideas.”

  “They’re not weird. You’ve got to trust me, Alicia. I know all about—about death.”

  Alicia stood up and folded her arms across her still-flat chest. “Oh, you know all about death,” she said sarcastically. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. She swiped at the yellow silk poking out of Kate’s pocket, just missing it as Kate jumped back. “Why are you wearing that?” Alicia demanded.

  Confused, Kate said, “You gave it to me. I wanted to wear it to show you—”

  “How dare you wear that? You were my knight. You were supposed to protect me.” She was shouting.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” Kate pleaded. “Protect you.”

  Suddenly Laurie and Mrs. Curran were in the room. Mrs. Curran said, “Alicia, darling, please. Kate just came because she cares about you. She feels sorry that your father died.”

  “She does not,” Alicia said.

  “Of course she does.” Kate feared she would blush. If only she could just tell them all. Alicia said loudly, “I don’t want her here.” When Mrs. Curran tried to touch her, she flailed her arms, forcing her mother to back off. With a hand on her chest, Mrs. Curran said to Laurie, “I’m really sorry.”

  Laurie took Kate’s hand. “That’s okay,” she said. “She’s just upset. We better go.”

  Josephine Curran said, “I really am sorry, Kate. I’m sure in a couple of days Alicia will calm down. And then I’m sure she’ll appreciate your being here.” She looked more scared than her daughter.

  In the street, Laurie tried to reassure Kate that everything would turn out all right. Kate only marched on ahead, with her eyes fixed on the street. She just had too much to do to take time to act normal for her mother.