A Tinfoil Sky

by Cyndi Sand-Eveland

  “He never gave up on people. There was the time when the new all-night chain stores came into town. I almost lost this place. It was Tux’s idea to do the Saturday Magic Matinees, pull people in. It kept me in business.”

  Mel didn’t want Mr. Frohberger to stop talking, but she sensed that he was about to. “Did he ever bring me here?”

  “Oh yes, he brought you here all the time. You took your first steps on the worn-out floors of this old store.”

  “I did?”

  “You sure did, and I think you might have eaten your first bit of chocolate here also. If I’m not mistaken, I think it was an Oh Henry!”

  Mel felt her face blush with the guilt that she’d even considered for a moment how easy it would be to steal from Mr. Frohberger.

  “Tux used to sit you up on the counter and he and I would shoot the breeze. Mind you, once you figured out how to walk, well – you would run, full speed up and down the aisle, pulling things off the shelves. Tux would be chasing you and you’d be squealing. Those were good days.”

  Mel waited, hoping that Mr. Frohberger would go on. “I wish I remembered him.” The words left her lips before she realized that she was saying them out loud.

  Mr. Frohberger looked directly into Mel’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ve got a memory of Tux somewhere inside, Mel; you just haven’t found it yet, but it’s there. I’m sure it is.”

  A man and his son came around the corner and walked up the steps and into the store. Mr. Frohberger called out that he’d be right with them.

  He set his hand on Mel’s shoulder as he stood up. “Want me to take that empty bottle?”

  “Sure, thanks,” Mel said.

  Mr. Frohberger smiled back at her. “My pleasure.”

  Back at the apartment, Mel looked at Gladys and thought about her and Tux and Cecily and about how they had once been a family. It was hard to imagine Gladys loving anyone.

  “Mr. Frohberger was saying –”

  “I thought I told you not to be bothering Ed Frohberger.”

  It was true Gladys had told her this before; what was different was that this time Gladys didn’t sound as angry.

  “He just –”

  “I said to leave him alone,” Gladys interrupted.

  But Mel had started asking about her past and now she knew she wasn’t going to stop. Her need to know was greater than her fear of Gladys. “I just wanted to know about Tux. I wanted to know how he died. I just wanted to know about …” Mel stopped. Her gut was twisting. It seemed like forever before Gladys said anything.

  “I’ll tell you this,” Gladys said, without looking at Mel. “He died a broken man with a broken heart, and your mother is to blame for that!”

  The words shut Mel down and they stung like salt on an open wound, leaving her sick, as though she were about to vomit. Mel walked to the living room, vowing to never ask again. She sat down on the couch and began a list of things she and Cecily would need. She’d take her one hundred and two dollars and buy things for their apartment.

  Dishes.

  A chili-pepper apron like Rose’s.

  A cat dish.

  One pot. One frying pan.

  Forks, knives, spoons, three cups, a teapot.

  Sheets, two beds, pillows, and blankets.

  Mel looked up from her list and into the living room.

  Curtains, curtains for our windows.

  Windows that open.

  Birds that sing.

  Sunshine.

  Singing and laughter.

  Cecily.

  Me.

  And friends visiting.

  Tomorrow would be eleven days. It felt like an eternity.

  26

  A Date

  Mel hadn’t seen Paul in four days. She felt guilty, but she’d been busy: a day spent filling in the application, a day at Frohberger’s, the interview, and then the first Saturday.

  “So I saw those guys again, the ones who were in the alley that day,” Paul said as he opened the front door of the library.

  Mel wanted to ask if he’d seen them in the library, or if he’d overheard them talking about her. But she didn’t. “Yeah, well, next time you go into the alley, take one of your other friends.”

  “Well, actually, I don’t have any other friends in Riverview. Basically – you’re it.”

  Mel stopped and turned to face Paul. “What do you mean, you ‘don’t have any other friends’?”

  “I’m just here for the summer, as part of the custody agreement.

  I was supposed to be signed up for a sports camp, but seeing as I failed English, I have to do summer school and hang out here. Believe me, I would never have asked for a library card if it had been me in front of that judge –”

  Paul stopped, realizing what he had just said, and he began to backtrack. Blushing, his words raced on.

  “The only reason my mom told me was because I kept bugging her about you, and I knew she was hiding something. I was just kind of curious about why you were hanging out here all the time. And why you acted so weird that day in the alley.

  “So I suppose she told you that my mom’s in jail, too, right?”

  Paul looked at Mel, then he looked down at the carpet, and then back at her. “No, actually, she didn’t.”

  In the moment, his reply only made things worse. And Mel couldn’t believe that she’d even said it. She hated the thought of Paul and his mom talking about her, and about Cecily.

  “Yeah, well, it’s true. And the guy in the alley – he walked like my mom’s creepy ex-boyfriend, okay? Now do you know enough?”

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry. It’s not why I asked,” Paul said. “It wasn’t that at all.” Then, changing the subject, he asked, “Do you want to play a game of chess?”

  “No, I’ve got to go,” Mel said.

  “Well, do you want to hang out tomorrow?” Paul asked.

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Okay, how about Tuesday?”

  “I can’t.”

  “All right. Wednesday,” Paul said. He said it as though he was going to keep asking until Mel agreed.

  She felt herself almost laugh and cry as she looked into the comical expression on Paul’s face. “Well, it depends,” she said.

  “Depends on what?”

  Mel didn’t know what to say. “I guess it depends on what you want to do.”

  “How does going for a bike ride sound?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “We’ve got two,” Paul said. “I could bring them by your place.”

  “Okay, maybe.” A smile crept onto Mel’s face.

  “So are you still all, like, super busy-busy until Wednesday?” Paul asked. And then he laughed.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I’ll go back to my first question, then. Do you want to hang out tomorrow?”

  “I guess so,” Mel said.

  Until now, Mel hadn’t noticed that their entire conversation had been carried out in the foyer of the library. But she was glad Paul had persevered; he had in some way proven that he wasn’t just feeling sorry for her – he actually wanted to be her friend.

  “Paul,” Marilyn said, “I’m heading out. Are you ready to go?”

  Paul looked at his mom as she approached, then at Mel. “So, we’re on?” he asked, shifting his head and shoulders from side to side and smiling.

  “Sure. What time?”

  “I’ll be there at eleven.”

  “Okay, but I should probably tell you where I live.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” Paul was blushing, and Mel wanted to laugh.

  I live near Frohberger’s on Maple,” she told him.

  “Frohberger’s, on Maple, at eleven, I’ll be there,” Paul said.

  “Great, I’ll meet you at the bus stop,” Mel answered and then watched as Paul left the library with his mom; she felt a pang of envy.

  Mel renewed two of her books and then left the library. The sun was shining. She decided to walk. It gave her time to think about P
aul, the alley, and Paul saying that she was his only friend – at least in Riverview. She thought about seeing him tomorrow, and about wanting to know him better. She replayed their conversation over in her mind as she walked; she didn’t think about Craig. It seemed like only minutes had passed and she was at Frohberger’s corner.

  27

  Morning Mountain

  Mel sat on the bench at the bus stop, waiting for Paul. In some ways, it was hard to believe that the days, which had passed so slowly in the beginning, were now going more quickly. Only nine days remained until Cecily returned.

  “I can’t believe you brought two bikes on a bus,” she said as she watched Paul unload them from the bike rack on the front of bus.

  Paul handed her the smaller bike. “So,” he said, getting on his bike, “are you up for a bit of a climb?”

  “Sure,” Mel answered.

  They biked to the outskirts of town, to a trailhead marked Morning Mountain Trail.

  “We’re going to ride up here for about forty-five minutes to an hour,” Paul said.

  “We’re going to climb up a mountain, on bikes, for an hour?”

  “Yeah, but believe me, it’s worth it,” Paul said.

  “Okay,” Mel said, even though she doubted she’d be able to do it. “I’ll let you go first.”

  For over an hour, they pedaled uphill. Mel’s legs ached, her lungs were tight, and her mouth was dry. More than once she got off her bike and tried walking, but it wasn’t much easier. About the time she figured she would just turn her bike around and go back down, Paul called out from up ahead that they were almost there. She drew on the little energy she had left in her legs, and pedaled up the trail.

  It took a moment for Mel to catch her breath, but once she was able to take in her surroundings, she could see that what Paul had said was true. The view was amazing; you could see the entire city, as well as the river as it flowed out into the valley. Mel added this spot to her list of beautiful places.

  They got off their bikes and sat in the grass. Mel watched the clouds float through the cerulean blue sky. In all the places she and Cecily had been, Mel couldn’t remember ever being on top of a mountain. Of course, it wasn’t a real mountain, like the ones in the Rockies, but it was as close to a mountain as she’d ever been. Mel had had never felt more alive, but she quickly corrected herself: it wasn’t more alive that she was feeling, it was a feeling of being normal. She glanced over at Paul; he was lying in the grass and sipping from his water bottle. He looked back in her direction, but inadvertently let the water from the bottle pour onto his face. Mel laughed uncontrollably. Paul shook the remaining water in her direction, which only made her laugh harder. Paul jumped up, pushed her back into the grass and sat on her stomach, using his hands to hold her hands down.

  “So, you still think it’s funny?”

  “Yes,” Mel choked out as she kept laughing.

  Letting one of her hands go, he grabbed a stalk of dried grass and put the stem end into his mouth. “You still think it’s funny?” he asked, tickling her nose with the grassy tip and grabbing hold of her hand again.

  “Yes!” Mel yelled back.

  “Still?” Paul wiggled the grass tip against her eyes.

  Mel was almost unable to speak. She was no longer laughing at the sight of Paul dumping his water on his face, or because he was tickling her. She was laughing purely because it felt so good to laugh.

  “Okay,” Paul said as he let her hands go. “You win, but I’ll bet I can beat you to the bottom.”

  “No doubt,” Mel said. She was still finding it difficult to contain her laughter. “I just hope I don’t get killed weaving down through all the trees.”

  “You’ll be fine; just don’t use your front brake – whatever you do. We can be down in fifteen.”

  “Fifteen minutes? It took us an hour to get up here.”

  “Yeah,” Paul said as he started to pedal away. “Fifteen minutes. Bet you can’t beat me to the bottom.”

  Paul was soon out of sight, but it didn’t matter. The ride down was better than Mel could have imagined. The air was cool on her face, the trail was fast, and she was free – the way you feel after an honest bout of laugher. Other than the odd tree branch swiping her across her chest or legs, the ride down was uneventful. Paul was waiting for her at the trailhead.

  “So, what do you think? Was the ride worth the climb?”

  “Definitely,” Mel said, getting off her bike. Her legs were wobbly, not so much from fear as from the exhilaration of pushing her feet into the pedals for fifteen minutes.

  They walked the bikes back to Frohberger’s.

  “Who’s your friend?” Mr. Frohberger asked Mel when he saw them parking their bikes in the rack.

  “My name is Paul.”

  “Ed Frohberger,” Mr. Frohberger said as he reached out his hand to Paul. Then he turned to Mel. “I’ve decided to start carrying ice cream again. The old cooler finally gave up the ghost, and the dealer managed to sell me a real honker, works like a charm. Come in and take a look. It’s brand-spanking new.”

  Mel and Paul followed Mr. Frohberger into the store and looked in the cooler. There were two flavors.

  “You two are my first customers, so the ice cream is on the house. What would you like, strawberry or chocolate, or a little of each?”

  Mel chose strawberry, and Paul opted for a half and half. The scoops were huge. They sat down on the front steps, enjoying their cones and each other’s company. Mr. Frohberger waited until they both voiced their approval of the ice cream and then went back inside, leaving them to talk about the climb, laugh about the water, and enjoy the sun.

  When Paul’s bus approached, they both noticed it stopping, but neither of them mentioned it. Mel waited with Paul until the next bus arrived, and helped him put the bikes on the bus rack. Walking back to Gladys’s from Frohberger’s, she started a list of everything that happened that day. It was all good.

  28

  The Third Saturday

  Mel counted the days.

  Tuesday had been nine days, Wednesday seven. Thursday six, Friday five, and now it was already Saturday again. Paul had come by the library every day, and it seemed that he came specifically to see her, often taking the bus with her to Frohberger’s, then the two of them getting a pop or an ice cream while they waited for Paul’s bus.

  Mel found herself feeling guilty that the days until Cecily’s return seemed to rush by, almost too quickly. She began rehearsing what she would tell Cecily – hoping she could convince her that staying, at least until the end of the summer, was a good idea. And she felt guilty for not sending another letter – even though she’d often thought about writing Cecily and telling her about the job or Paul or even about how Gladys had seemed better, not so angry all the time. But now, with only four days left, a letter wouldn’t arrive in time. And anyway, Mel decided, it would be easier to convince Cecily to stay if she saw for herself how good things were.

  Mel was perched on the little red chair in the library. Since that first day, she’d become much more comfortable in front of all the kids and parents. As she finished reading Tikki Tikki Tembo, she looked up and thought she saw Cecily, her face peering around the corner. But by the time the cluster of children and parents had left the carpet, Cecily – if she’d been there at all – was gone.

  “I’m probably just seeing things,” Mel whispered.

  She walked through the library and out into the street and around the corner. No sign of Cecily. It couldn’t have been her; she wouldn’t come and then go.

  Mel went back into the library, gathered up the books from the story circle, and picked up the floor cushions, stacking them one on top of another in her arms. She walked back to the window and was flooded with memories of Cecily reading to her, of being tired and curling up in Cecily’s thick coat while she read Goodnight Moon or Guess How Much I Love You. Mel remembered the feeling of drifting into contented sleep. But that was a long time ago, and there had been a lot
of libraries in her life since then.

  It surprised Mel when Lisa came up behind her. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Was there a woman with long braids standing by the display over there?” Mel asked.

  “Not that I saw,” Lisa said, “but I was listening to you. You did a fantastic job!”

  “Thanks,” Mel said as she shrugged her shoulders. “It was fun.”

  29

  Three Days

  The next three days came and went. Mel knew that by now Cecily should have come for her. She went to the calendar in the kitchen to recount the days.

  Gladys came in, pulled a hot plate of food out of the oven, and set it on the table.

  “Your mother dropped off a letter,” she said once Mel started eating. “You can read it when you’re finished.”

  Gladys placed the letter on the table, next to the keys that had been there for almost a month. Everything about Gladys’s voice told Mel the same thing: the letter was bringing bad news.

  Each small bite stuck in Mel’s throat. If Cecily had found a place for them to live, she’d be here. She’d have at least called. She wouldn’t leave a letter. Getting up, Mel filled the chipped enamel sink halfway with warm water, washed the dishes, dried them, and put them away. She didn’t rush. Cecily had been gone either thirty-two days or thirty-five; it depended on how you counted. Even without reading the letter, Mel knew what it was about.

  Mel picked it up and walked to the couch.

  My Dearest Mel,

  The words poured off the page, and Mel could feel them drowning her. Everything had been good, too good. And now it was all crumbling.

  I know this will make you sad, but right now I can’t be there for you.

  Cecily wasn’t coming for her. It was probably the drugs, the booze, the pressure of needing to find a place to live. She’d given up. She hadn’t even started, and she was already giving up. It was all the things Mel never let herself say, but had always known.

  You’re better off with Gladys. You have a home, a job. Gladys says you’ve got friends. I just need some time.