Saving Sailor: A Novel

by Renée Riva

Then, Grandma Juliana started in on Mama about how she was gonna have to buy herself a statue of St. Pelagius, patron saint for abandoned people, since her own daughter has chosen to abandon her mother. Mama started to get that crinkle in her forehead, which is always Daddy’s cue that the guilt is settin’ in … again. Grandma Juliana is the only person on earth who can get to Mama that way. Mama will stay miserable for days once that happens, so Daddy figured he’d better give in.

  “Dish it up, Mama J,” he yelled back, then he turned us all around and whispered, “She should have been a travel agent; she’s such an expert at guilt trips.”

  Grandma Juliana never heard him, she just thought we were all smilin’ ’cause we got to stay longer. The only thing that made it tolerable to sit through an entire meal of nonstop whining was the spumoni ice cream that came at the end. Something about the green ice cream with the little nuts and red cherries helped to take my mind off of the sound of Grandma Juliana’s droning voice. But I learned never to look at Daddy while tryin’ to eat spumoni when Grandma Juliana is on her high horse. He made this face of pure agony, then crossed his eyes. I nearly choked to death on one of the nuts, tryin’ not to laugh.

  On the way out of the yard Daddy tripped over St. Adelaide again. Once we got into the car he told Mama that the day she starts to sound like her mother, he’s shipping out to the Congo, where he will volunteer as a human target for the spear toss in the Wild Pygmy Olympics.

  Grandma Juliana wasn’t so bad when my Pappy Remo was alive. She was only up to two statues before he died. I think bein’ alone can do funny things to people. Grandma Juliana was always a complainer, but at least when Pappy Remo was here, she had him to complain about instead of my daddy.

  Pappy Remo liked to make his own peach grappa, which they tell me is like powerful fruit wine. He had his whole setup out in their garage, which drove Grandma Juliana crazy because she thought at any minute the police were going to pound on their door and haul them all away to jail, like in the prohibition.

  Pappy Remo and Grandma Juliana were really first cousins, but Grandma Juliana will never admit it. He was a lot older than her too. On Pappy’s eightieth birthday, we threw him a big party. He dragged his grappa-makin’ setup right out on his open driveway and started makin’ his grappa. Grandma Juliana had a fit and started ranting that the whole neighborhood could see it and this would be the day they would all be hauled away to prison. Pappy just looked at her and said, “Juliana, shutta you mout’. I’mma eighty years old; whatta they gonna give me … life?”

  I miss my Pappy a lot. He didn’t let many things ruffle him up, includin’ his whining wife. He was the only one who could bring Grandma Juliana down from her high horse, but now that he’s gone, she spends a lot of time up there. It’s too bad when someone loses the only person that kept them from goin’ completely nutty.

  I hope I’m more like Grandma Angelina when I get old. She’s just a happy old soul. She goes to this tiny country parish church where everybody brings in fresh flowers and zucchini to decorate the altar. When the Mass is over, you can take what you like home and cook it up for supper. Even with all those bright flowers layin’ on that altar, you never feel like you’re at Jesus’ funeral like you do at Grandma Juliana’s church.

  The people at the country parish act like Jesus really did rise up from the dead and is gettin’ things ready for us up there in heaven. We get to sing songs like, “Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh do You remember me, oh Lordy? Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh do You remember me?” Then you sing it again. Then it goes, “I got a home in Gloryland that outshines the sun, oh Lordy.…” My other favorite song is, “When the Roll Is Called up Yonder.” It just makes me want to be up there. I can hardly wait for the day when they get to the Ds in that Big Book of Life and I get to hear, “A. J. Degulio, come and get your mansion.” I sure hope they know better than to use my real name. If I have to hear that name for all of eternity, I’ll have to wonder if I’m really in heaven.

  Ruby Jean always acts startled to be woke up in the middle of the day, but she’s on her nocturnal schedule. Once I bring her into Papoose she perks right up. Sailor loves to watch her run around Troll Town. To him, Ruby is just a fuzzy roaming hot dog that he would love to chomp down if I weren’t here watchin’ him like a hawk. Instead he just licks her like they’re best friends, but he can’t help droolin’ at the same time, which is a dead giveaway that he’d rather just eat her. He’s tryin’ his best to be polite though. Ruby can only take so much of this dog bath business before she hides inside Lu Lu’s Beauty Parlor to get away from him. Can’t say I blame her. I’d want a shampoo and ’do too if I’d just been slobbered on by a giant dog tongue. A wet hamster is not a pretty sight. All of her skin shows through and she looks like a newborn rat.

  I give Ruby a little wash and fluff before she heads off to the snack bar for some peanut butter. Probably a good thing she stays away from the Cut-n-Curl Salon.

  About the time the sun goes down I figure it’s time to put Ruby Jean back in the shed. I give her furry little head a kiss and tuck her back in for the night, although nighttime is really when a hamster’s day begins. At least she’s off to a clean start.

  The fire is just a heap of glowing coals now. It makes me so drowsy I feel myself startin’ to drift off. I try and say a few prayers while I’m still a little bit awake. The last thing I remember is thankin’ God that I’m here instead of at the bottom of the lake. I don’t know how long I’ve slept when I hear the sound of our boat motor, then familiar voices comin’ through the door. I recognize a few blurred faces. “How’s Grandma Juliana?” I mumble, still half asleep.

  Adriana is the first to respond. “You don’t want to know.”

  J. R. says, “Consider yourself lucky you were sick.”

  Dino says, “Ditto.”

  Benji says, “Double ditto.”

  Daddy looks at me and crosses his eyes like when we were eatin’ spumoni and says, “Wonderful as usual, A. J., just wonderful.” He smiles at Mama, who looks like she just needs to take an aspirin and go to bed.

  “How’re you feeling, kiddo?” Mama asks, soundin’ real tired. She leans down and touches my forehead like moms always do when you’re supposedly sick.

  “I’m good,” I answer back, tryin’ not to sound like I took the boat out on the water during a windstorm and nearly got swept away for good. “Nothin’ much happened around here today,” I add, other than I had to be rescued and towed home by the neighbor boy who saved my life. “Just laid around all day with Sailor,” and my troll doll that I’m too embarrassed to admit I still play with, and my hamster who’s hidin’ out in the shed.

  “Sweet dreams,” says Mama, and kisses my guilty little forehead.

  “Sweet dreams too, Mama.”

  I’m so comfortable right where I am, I just fall back to sleep dreamin’ of boats, and wind, and Ruby, and Grandma Juliana, and wild pygmies.

  15

  Dear Friends and Deer Heads

  My best friend moved next door to me on the snowiest day last winter. We didn’t start out as best friends, even though we had a lot in common. Dorie was the Recess Queen of her class, and I was the Recess Queen of mine, so we were kind of in competition from the get-go. But that wasn’t all. We also liked the same boy. Perry Perroni. He was, by far, the cutest boy ever to walk the halls of Squawkomish Elementary School. The difference between me and Dorie is, I’m shy when it comes to boys. She isn’t. So up until the day Dorie came to Squawkomish Elementary, there was just a silent understandin’ that Perry and me were paired up. He always picked me to be on his team or to have tea parties with him at four square. He would keep hittin’ the ball back to me real nice until kids started teasin’ him. Then he’d turn all red and hit it to someone else.

  But then one day Dorie showed up and not only decided she liked Perry, but told him and everyone in the whole school that she liked him. The thing about forward girls, they might get who they want for a while, but they just move on down the lin
e after they ruin a perfectly good romance like the one me and Perry had. Perry fell for her, all right, and was havin’ tea parties with her instead of me. I had to pretend this didn’t bug me, but it did, so I took up tetherball instead. Well, it was only a week before Dorie dumped Perry for someone else. By the time Dorie moved next door to me, she’d had tea parties with just about every guy in the fourth grade.

  So when that movin’ van pulled up next door to our house in December, I was not at all happy to see that it was Dorie movin’ in. But the strangest thing happened. Over Christmas break, she rang my doorbell and asked if I wanted to go sleddin’ with her. If I hadn’t been so bored out of my mind I would’ve said no, but I was, so I went. We stayed out way past dark and had the greatest time flyin’ down hills together, tippin’ over, laughin’, and startin’ all over again. When we finally got called in for the night, Dorie invited me to sleep over. We stayed up until three in the morning talkin’ about everything two nine-year-old girls could possibly talk about. It started out with boys, and ended up with boys, but in between, she told me somethin’ that really made me think different about her. She told me she didn’t have a dad. She did have a dad, but he was killed in the Vietnam War in 1966. After her dad died, she and her mom ran out of money, so they had to move in with her grandma until they saved enough to buy the house next to ours.

  I’ll never forget Dorie’s sad eyes when she told me that story. From then on somethin’ inside me started to like her, even if she did steal my boyfriend. It made me think that maybe she was just so lonely, and all those boys just reminded her of her dad in a way. We’ve been best friends ever since that night.

  As for Perry Perroni, he’s tried to win me back ever since he got dumped, but I won’t give him the time of day. When he tries to hit the ball to me in four square, I just hit it to someone else. Usually another boy. Even though I still have a secret crush on Perry, I will not let anyone mess with my heart like that. I believe in loyalty—especially after everything I’ve seen on this island lately.

  Being away on this island makes me miss my friends back home, especially Dorie. But one thing we promised each other was that we’d write letters back and forth. Since my cold has gotten worse—for some mysterious reason that may involve boats and rain and wind—my mama has been watchin’ me like a hawk and keepin’ me off of the water. Seems like a good time to keep my promise to my best friend.

  Hi Dorie, Dorie, Bo–Borie, Banana-Fana, Fo-Forie,

  How is your summer going without me? Anything new in the neighborhood? Is Miss Peepers still spying on everyone? We’ve been calling her that for so long I can’t remember what her real name is. Miss Peepers fits her so perfectly. Too bad she never got married and had ten kids so she’d have something better to do than spy on us all the time.

  What is she so worried about anyway? Does she think we’re trying to poison her little bunny rabbits or something? All we ever do is feed them carrots and old lettuce. She should know if they aren’t dead by now, that we obviously aren’t trying to poison them.

  So, here I am stranded on Gilligan’s Island with Miss Glamour Queen Ginger for a sister. My only salvation is having Sailor and Ruby Jean here. I’m so worried my parents might find out about Ruby. Adriana’s threatened to squeal on me if I ever squeal on her for kissing Jason the two-timer. Jason is nothing like his little brother, Danny. Danny is like the perfect big brother I never had. Don’t tell blabbermouth Cindy, but Danny looks like a blond Little Joe Cartwright, AND he saved my life when Sailor and me got swept downlake. Don’t worry, he’s way too old for me. Maybe when he’s 100 and I’m 97 we could go steady. Then it won’t seem like we’re that far apart in age.

  So, did your Hammy have her babies yet? Can’t wait to see them. I hope they’re really ugly so I won’t want one. You know I’m a sucker for anything cute and fuzzy. I get so worried about keeping Ruby Jean out there in the shed. Sometimes I think I should just mail her to you in a box with air holes and let her stay at your house. I could come over every day after school to see her. You are so lucky to have a mom who likes rodents. Wish mine did.

  Well, before I go 100% crazy here with no friends to talk to … WRITE BACK … or else. Or else, I will tell every living person on earth that you have a crush on Steven Crammer bigger than the sky — except when he wears those dorky striped pants. His mom probably makes him.

  Toot-a-loo,

  A. J. for “Ain’t Jokin’”

  P.S. I sure miss watching the pizza truck pull up to nosey Miss Peeper’s house whenever J. R. phones in an order for her. You would think they would have caught on by now. Maybe she actually pays for them and eats them. I wonder if she liked the one with anchovies. I’m getting hungry just talkin’ about pizza. Too bad they don’t deliver on Islands. You could send one to me, and I’d say, “Hey, I never ordered this.” And they’d say, “Well, as long as we had to come all this way, you can just have it.” As Miss Peepers would say, “You pranksters.” She is just like Gladys Crabbits on “Bewitched.” We could call her “Gladys Crabbits and her rabbits.”

  P.S.S. The bad news here is that Danny’s dad had a sleepover with some lady when Danny’s mom was here on the island. Isn’t that rotten? I don’t know his name, but my mom just calls him BD. Short for Balaam’s donkey.

  The deal with Miss Peepers is that she’s just a really snoopy lady. And, she happens to live right across the street from us, which makes us an easy target. Since we know she is always watchin’ us from behind her pink curtains, we make sure we wave to her every time we leave the house.

  Since the time we were little, she has blamed every single thing that happens in her yard on us. Whenever one of her flowers was missing, which she must have counted to know one was missing, she would call my mom and tell her that her little hoodlums have been pickin’ her flowers. Or if any cat did its business in her sand garden, she blamed it on our old cat that couldn’t walk that far if he wanted to, and she expected us to come clean it up. The last time she ever called was right after old Charlie died, and Daddy let her know that unless cats really do have nine lives, there was a pretty good chance it wasn’t ours.

  Those are the kind of things that tempt you to play pranks on people like her. Our pranks are pretty harmless. Besides J. R.’s pizza deliveries, the twins like to sneak over and pour the water out of the vase on her front porch that holds her cattail swamp foliage. After a few days without water those things explode. All of their fluffy white stuffin’ comes poofin’ out of them. It’s pretty cool, really.

  The best thing that ever happened to Miss Peepers was right after we brought Sailor home from the pound. We couldn’t have planned this better ourselves. Sailor likes to play out in the woods behind our house. One time he came home with something that looked like a deer skull with a little bit of fur still attached. Miss Peepers had left her front door open while she was out waterin’ her lilies. Sailor walked straight into her front room and left the deer skull right there on her white carpet, like he was bringin’ her a special gift. We didn’t know about any of this until someone rang the doorbell and Mama went to answer it. Miss Peepers was standin’ there on our front porch, holdin’ this grungy deer skull with her garden gloves. She looked at Mama and said, “Your dog just deposited this on my white carpet. I believe it belongs to you.” Then she just dropped it right at Mama’s feet, turned, and walked away. Mama said that was the darndest thing that’s happened in a long time. Daddy called it serendipity.

  The neat thing about sendin’ a letter to Dorie is that my dad takes it with him when he goes to work in the morning and swings by our neighborhood to check on our house in town. If Dorie is home, he gives her my letter in person; then if she writes back real fast and gives it back to him before he leaves, I get her letter when Daddy gets home from work.

  Dear A. J.,

  Mrs. Sharp took the plate of cookies and said, “If you girls would like a quick swim, I can only watch you for a half hour.”

  We tried to act all surpris
ed like that was the last thing on our minds. Of course we were in that water in no time flat. We had underwater tea parties and did cannon balls and swan dives off of the diving board. I only flubbed up with one belly flop. OUUCH.

  Guess who we saw at the WIGWAM STORE last week? Stuck-up Marcie Walker. Me and Cindy just smiled at her like now we know where she buys all of her cheap clothes. She tried to pretend she was only there because her mom was shopping. Well, Cindy found the same shirt that Marcie was wearing on one of the racks and yelled across the store, “Hey, Marcie, look. It’s the same shirt you’re wearing.”

  It’s no big deal if we shop there because we don’t pretend to be all rich and snobby like she does. She even makes fun of poor kids who have to shop there. She won’t be able to make fun of anyone in front of us anymore, or she’ll be sorry.

  Well, I’m writing you back, but I already told the whole world, including Steven Crammer, that I like him, so it wouldn’t matter if you told anyone, anyway. You’d better write back or I WILL tell all of Squawkomish that you’re in love with an older man.

  Your Best Friend 4 ever,

  Dorie

  16

  Big Island Bash

  It’s officially tradition. Anything that happens more than once in this family is considered tradition. Big Island Bash started last summer on August 10, in honor of my mother refusin’ to live the life of a hermit. About the time Sophia Loren hit the heights of stardom, my mama hit an all-time low. She told my daddy that there was something wrong with having her impostor get away with living the high life, while she was stuck on this island with five runny-nosed kids and no friends all summer.

  That’s when my daddy said, “Soph, the world is your stage. Write yourself a script, and let me know when opening night is.”

  That’s when Mama came up with Big Island Bash. It’s become her “baby,” and everyone just goes with the show or moves outta the way.