by Karen Wolff
“Nor do I want to.” She unpinned her hat and put on her apron, then turned to me again, her face stern.
“Sounds to me like you were out with a hussy.”
“Phyllis isn’t a hussy, Gram.”
“I think Carol Ann suits you better. You better make up with her.”
“It’s not up to me,” I snapped.
“I’ll bet she’ll be ready. I don’t think she had a very good time at the dance. Miranda Phelps said she heard that Billy and his friends had gotten hold of some bootleg.”
That surprised me. “I don’t know anything about that,” I said, wanting to hear more but unwilling to ask.
“I guess they kept ducking outside for a nip during the dance. Tried to get Carol Ann to drink some too.”
So that was why Carol Ann had looked so upset. Served her right. But I was annoyed with all this gossip and Gram acting like I had done something wrong. I stomped out the door in exasperation and headed for the store to relieve Aunt Lida who had been helping us out on Sundays.
She grinned when I walked in. “Hear you took a real beauty queen to the dance,” she said.
“Who’ve you been talking to?”
“Mrs. Trometer was in. She’d heard about it. Sounds like you had a good time. Right?”
“I did, Aunt Lida, but I can’t see why everybody is so busy talking about it.”
“It’s the Bellwoods. They’re mad as heck about Billy Snyder and the bootleg whiskey. I guess they’re gonna talk to the principal.”
That was sweet music to my ears. Billy Snyder would surely catch it when Mr. Lyman got hold of him. I knew Carol Ann wouldn’t go out with him again. I began to think about the ride to school in the morning. How would she behave? Should I be mad at her? And her father. Should I be mad at him? Then I smiled to myself. Neither one of them could take away the fine time I had at the dance.
AFTER THE DANCE, Phyllis had every boy in the school buzzing around her. She invited me to her house a couple of times to learn the Charleston, and I finally got the hang of it. Those sessions weren’t as much fun as I thought they’d be. The trouble was that Phyll talked about all the dates she had with other boys, Bob Hollister among them. She’d go on about the movies they’d seen and stuff like that. I couldn’t figure out if she was trying to impress me, or what. I finally decided she just liked to talk about herself, and I was handy. The memory of our one magical night returned often, but somehow it wasn’t the same now, and I gradually lost interest in her. That was just fine. We’d had our fun, and I was happy to let Phyllis go her way.
Somehow Carol Ann and I managed to patch things up. It took a while. We had to wait together every afternoon at school for her dad to pick us up, and, eventually, we just started talking. Neither of us said a word about the dance, and, after a while, it seemed natural to talk like we always had.
IT TOOK SOME time, but Granddad’s leg began to heal. That’s when he got restless and cranky about staying home every day.
“I think I’m okay now. I want Dr. Brunner to take this darn cast off. I need to get to the store.”
“Alfie,” Gram said for the umpteenth time. “The doctor told you the cast has to stay on for six weeks. Don’t you remember?”
“My leg itches. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“It itches ‘cause it’s healing. Do you want some more apple cake?”
“What I want is something you won’t get for me. I want some beer.”
“I should’ve known. I had Bud Johnson come with his beer truck and take the barrels out of the store.”
“You did what?” His eyes widened. “Why on earth would you do that, woman?”
“You know perfectly well that the bar has been closed since the attack. We couldn’t just leave those barrels sitting there to mold.”
He sighed. He did know it, but he wanted to complain. I felt sorry for him and all of us, too. Ty and I helped him to the kitchen table, propped his injured leg on a chair, and then helped him back to bed so many times every day that we were sick of it, and he was too.
One morning at breakfast he said, “I want to get out my fiddle and practice a little so I can go to the dance Saturday night at the pool hall.”
Gram rolled her eyes. “Just how were you planning to manage that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m gonna do it.”
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Ty and I can borrow Uncle Carl’s horse and buggy and load him into it. We can deliver him to the pool hall and pick him up when he’s ready to come home.”
Her look let me know what she thought of my suggestion, but Granddad latched onto the idea and spent several hours over the next few days with his fiddle “warming up,” as he said. His carping eased off as he planned for his first outing since he’d broken his leg.
Gram decided to cooperate and dug out a pair of my old knee britches. She cut the elastic in the left leg so it would slide over his cast and let him wear pants instead of the long nightshirt that was his daily garb. He was so small and had lost so much weight, the pants were a little large for him, but he was happy, and his eyes danced as he looked forward to the event.
Saturday came, and the skies opened up with a cold, late November rain that didn’t stop all day.
“I think you better give this thing up, Alfie. You’ll catch your death,” Gram said.
“Not on your life, Bess. This’ll quit before tonight. You wait and see.”
The rain never let up even for a minute. His eagerness was so pathetic that, when the time came, I didn’t argue, but put on my coat and hat and went to Uncle Carl’s to get the horse and buggy.
“Surely he isn’t going out tonight, is he?” Aunt Lida said in a worried voice.
“‘Fraid so. He’s determined.”
“He’s too old to be out in this kind of weather, and so is poor Rollo,” Uncle Carl said. “Just be sure you rub that horse down good when you get him back to the barn.”
I drove the horse and buggy to the house where Gram had Granddad bundled into his coat and hat. Ty and I carried him to the buggy easily. He couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. Ty ran back and got the red flowered oilcloth off the kitchen table, and we covered Granddad’s cast with it because Gram was afraid the rain would melt it right off his leg.
It was pouring hard, but we set off for the outskirts of town where the old pool hall was located. We drove right up to the front door and carried Granddad inside, wrapped in the oilcloth, his fiddle tucked underneath.
People clapped and cheered when they saw him come in. The Meeves brothers had been trying to provide some music, but they weren’t very good at it. Everybody knew Granddad played great music for dancing. The pinochle and poker games stopped, and people waited for him to get settled and tune up his fiddle. It wasn’t long before they were sashaying around the floor and having a great time. In spite of being soaked through, I was glad we had made the effort for the old man. He grinned and seemed happier than he’d been for days.
Ty and I left and took Rollo home to get him out of the weather. We visited with Uncle Carl and Aunt Lida until it was time to pick up Granddad. Gram had said a couple of hours was plenty for a man just out of the sickbed.
We got to the pool hall right on time and went inside to find him, but Granddad was nowhere in sight. We looked everywhere and asked everyone. He couldn’t move without help, yet nobody seemed to have noticed when he left. One woman said he took a break from the music, and she wondered why it never started up again. She said people had gathered around him to talk, and the next thing they knew, he was gone.
Squint Pickard was sitting near the door, and he said, “I saw him leave, boys.”
“He left? How could he?” I asked.
“Arlo and Malcolm Fitch just picked him up and carried him out,” Squint said. “They were going to take him for a ride in their Model T.”
“On a night like this? Why?”
He grinned slyly. “I think they had some hooch. I wanted to go
too, but they wouldn’t let me.”
Disgusted, Ty and I stood around for almost an hour, waiting for the Fitches to come back. Everyone was leaving the hall, and Bernie Beaubien, yawning and looking at the clock, was ready to lock up.
“Sorry, fellas, but I’ve got to close up now. Maybe they took Alfie home.”
We didn’t want to leave without him, but we couldn’t very well sit outside in the rain with the horse all night.
“Maybe he’s at home,” I said.
“If he isn’t, Gram’s gonna pitch a fit,” Ty said.
“Yeah, I know.”
We stopped by the house on the way back. I tiptoed in. Gram had gone to bed, and there was no sign of Granddad. We had no choice but to take Rollo back to his barn and rub him down. We ran home, both of us sopping wet. Gram heard us come in this time and got up to see how the evening had gone.
She looked around. “Where is he?”
“He went off with the Fitches in their Model T before we got there,” I said. She looked murderous.
“You boys get dried off and get to bed. I’ll wait up a while for him, but if he doesn’t show up pretty soon, I’m going back to bed.” She scowled. “The durned fool can stay out in the rain all night for all I care. I knew this was a bad idea.”
We left her in her rocking chair wrapped up in a quilt and were just as happy to go to bed. We’d already lost enough sleep over that old man.
THE NEXT MORNING, right after breakfast, we heard a knock at the door. It was Arlo Fitch looking as sick and sorry as a man can be who’s been drinking bootleg whiskey all night.
“Ty, Harry, could you come out and help us get your granddad into the house?”
We got our coats and went outside, leery about what we might find. The rain had stopped, and the yard was thick mud. We had to squish through it all the way to the road. Granddad was sprawled across the back seat of their car, asleep under the red flowered tablecloth, his fiddle case clutched to his chest. He seemed unhurt but reeked of liquor.
“C’mon, Granddad. Are you all right? Let’s get you out of here.”
He opened his eyes enough to see us. “Oh, hello, boys. I had a fine time.” His speech was slurred, and he closed his eyes again.
“We can tell,” Ty said. “Sit up now so we can grab hold of you.”
We pulled him up, and each of us took an arm and put it over our shoulders. We lifted and dragged his dead weight toward the house. His cast was spattered with mud, and a considerable chunk had broken off down by his ankle. Malcolm and Arlo followed us, handing the tablecloth, the fiddle, and a pair of crutches through the door. Then they beat it back to their car before Gram could get hold of them.
Gram’s face was grim, but she was silent. I figured that boded worse for Granddad than if she yelled. We got his coat off and hauled him back to his bed.
“You’re good boys,” he said again. “Good boys, but Bess’ll be mad.” His eyes rolled shut.
Ty and I made a beeline for the store, not wanting to be around to witness what came next. We stayed away at the store all day, making bologna and cheese sandwiches for our dinner and helping ourselves to Coca Cola.
Russ showed up around four to run the store for the evening. Much as we dreaded to go home, we were hungry, and that was the only way to get fed. We entered quietly and were dumbfounded to see Granddad sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of crutches leaning against his chair.
“Hello,” he said with a little grin, but with a face that looked whiter and sicker than when he broke his leg. “Your grandmother is pretty put out with me, and she let me have it after you left this morning.”
I looked at Gram who stood at the cook stove, her back to us.
He spoke softly. “We just went out to Arlo’s ‘cause he remembered a pair of crutches in his attic.” He paused and looked at her like he expected her to say something, but she just kept stirring the pot.
“She had a right to be sore at me, and I let her know I was sorry I went off with those fellows. Sorry they let me drink too much of their moonshine. Sorry my head feels big as a pumpkin. Sorry I worried everybody.”
I wanted him to stop talking. We took off our coats and started to wash up, but he kept on.
“But, wow, boys!”
We turned around, stunned at the change in his voice.
“First time I ever rode in a Model T. It was great, even in the rain. Why, we just rolled along like nobody’s business. Got where we were goin’ in no time at all.” He looked expectantly at the cook stove again, then back at us.
“So what your grandmother and I have decided this afternoon…well, the store has been doing pretty well and the Klan hasn’t come back. So what we decided is that we’re going to get us a car too.” Now she turned around, spoon in her hand, looking like she was doing her best not to smile.
“Yessir,” he went on. “We’re gonna have us a brand new Ford Model T just as soon as I can get to town to buy it. What do you think of that?”
We stared open-mouthed. I doubt there were ever two fellows more surprised than we were. We’d walked in expecting a dark and angry scene, blame, excuses, the whole lot. Instead, everything had changed. Our world now had exciting possibilities, unknown for sure, but there just the same. As Granddad’s words sank in, we looked at each other and began whooping and dancing. I grabbed Gram and whirled her around the room, and she laughed right out loud. I had no idea until then that she wanted a car too.
“Let’s eat supper,” Granddad said.
MY FRIENDS AND I often gathered at the store or on somebody’s porch to talk. One time I asked them when they thought our lives would start. They looked at me like I was touched.
“Are you crazy? Our lives began the day we were born,” Billy said.
“No, I mean when we really start to do things.”
“Like what, Harry? We do stuff all the time.”
I gave up and didn’t raise it again. These boys were different from me. The future I’d conjured up in my mind, when I went places and became someone who amounted to something, stayed with me and never went away. I just learned to keep quiet about it.
But today was different. Ty and Granddad would come home this afternoon from Sioux City with a brand new Model T Ford. Surely that meant I’d be started toward whatever wonderful things were coming my way. My life would change; I’d be able to travel beyond Richmond, beyond my daily trip back and forth to school.
I fell to daydreaming about it in Mrs. Kleinsasser’s class. I took trips to Chicago, the Rocky Mountains, and California before she called on me to explain the difference between a simile and a metaphor. I stammered and said something about substituting a long word for a short word. Everyone laughed. I knew it sounded ridiculous. My mind was so far away, I couldn’t think of anything sensible.
Mrs. Kleinsasser said, “Harry, I do believe you were wool-gathering. Did I guess right?” I nodded, embarrassed. “See me after class. We’ll get you straightened out.”
I groaned inwardly. She always made those who didn’t pay attention write an extra essay on some dull subject. I sure didn’t want to do that, not tonight of all nights. I approached her desk nervously.
“You do know the difference between a metaphor and a simile, don’t you, Harry?”
“I sure do. I don’t know why I couldn’t say it before. A simile compares two things using ‘like’ or ‘as,’ and, a metaphor. Well, a metaphor doesn’t. What I mean is, it compares two things, but well, it uses different words…” I trailed off.
“All right,” she said. “I think I know how to fix this. Read the section on similes and metaphors again. Then I want you to write six sentences, three that use similes, and three that use metaphors. That way I’ll know you understand these figures of speech. Turn it in to me tomorrow.”
I dragged myself out of the classroom. This sure wasn’t the start of the new life that I was looking for.
The day crawled by. Classes seemed long, and then, when it was time to leave, Carol Ann’s f
ather was late. We had to stop for gas, and it was dusk before we got home. I craned my head out the window as we approached our house, but no new car was parked in front. My disappointment was huge.
“Gram,” I said as I burst in. “Where are they? I thought they’d be here by now.”
“So did I,” she said. “I don’t know what’s happened.”
She went back to heating up our supper, and I stared out the window, not knowing whether to be mad or worried.
“No use just standing there, Harry. They’ll come when they’re gonna come. How about pumping some water for me?”
I took the bucket and did as she asked. Then I tried to start my homework. One or the other of us jumped up and checked the window every couple minutes.
After what seemed like hours, I heard the chug-chugging of an engine, and I ran outside. Hallelujah! They were here at last. Ty honked the horn, and Granddad stumbled out of the passenger side, looking pale and exhausted.
“Longest day I ever put in,” he said as he headed for the house.
“Why? What happened?” I asked. But he just waved his hand and went on.
Ty said, “It was a long ride. The dealer told us not to go over ten or fifteen miles an hour until we get her broken in.”
“So that’s why it took so long.”
“Yeah. Granddad was nervous. Kept telling me to watch out for this truck or that car. Don’t get too close to the ditch. That kind of stuff. Heck, he doesn’t know how to drive, but he gave me directions the whole time. Then he wanted a drink for his nerves. Nothing would do, but I drive to Jefferson so he could visit Clancy’s for some bootleg.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Not again.”
“We got lucky, brother. Clancy’s had the Feds breathing down his neck, and he hasn’t made any for a while. Anyway, that’s what took so long and made him grumpy.”
I understood and said, “Let’s don’t say anything to Gram about it, okay?”
I walked all around that car, taking in every detail. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I ran my hands over the sleek surface of the steering wheel. I pressed the three pedals and imagined changing gears out on the road and operating the hand brake. I turned the key in the switch from magneto to battery and tried out the windshield wipers, watching the fan-shaped motion they made from the top of the windshield. I stroked the pinstriped upholstery on the seats and sidewalls. Every last thing was slick and clean and worked perfectly.
