“The Terrific Tux Tulley” the headline read.
Gladys wiped the dust off the frame with the edge of her skirt, and stood the framed picture on the table.
Mel stared at the contents of the trunk: silk handkerchiefs – four or five different colors – boxes, calipers, rulers, mirrors, a folded three-legged table, files full of papers, and a hinged box. In a space all of its own, and carefully folded and wrapped in tissue, was Tux’s suit. Beside the suit sat a hatbox.
“Magic isn’t something you buy in a store,” Gladys said, her hands brushing the surface of the satin hatbox as she sat down.
Mel looked at Gladys, at the slightly pink color in her face.
“Tux used to say that everyone needs a little magic in their lives; it gives them hope.”
Hope. The word seemed odd, Mel thought, coming from Gladys’s mouth, but in a way it seemed right.
“And when Cecily left, taking you with her, it broke his heart, broke both our hearts.” Gladys paused, took in a breath, and then continued. “Tux looked day and night. He and Ed Frohberger, they looked for weeks, even got in Ed’s old Impala and drove to the city. When everyone else had given up hope, Ed Frohberger kept going out with Tux. More than just about anything, your Grandpa Tux loved you. Nothing would make him happier than to know that you’re home and that you’re safe.”
Gladys reached into the trunk and picked up a small photo album, the kind with black paper pages and gold foil tabs holding in the photographs.
“These, here, are Tux’s parents. I never met them; they stayed in the old country. This here,” Gladys ran her finger along the line of children, stopping at the smallest, “this is Tux. He was three years old.” About the age you were when he last saw you.”
Gladys turned the page. There was another photograph of Tux; only the name Theodore was written below it. He was fourteen years old. Mel smiled as she looked up at Gladys and then back down at the album.
Gladys turned page after page, each time telling the story of each person preserved in the black-and-white photos. Mel noticed there were no photographs of Gladys’s family, no photos of Cecily. What Mel had hoped for as the pages turned was that there would be pictures of her, as a baby, from those first three years when she had lived at least part of the time with Gladys and Tux, here. But as Gladys turned the last page, Mel accepted that there wouldn’t be. Gladys reached for the trunk lid and closed it.
“Not much we can sell in here,” she said.
Moments later, Gladys got up from the table and went into her room, returning with a small album and another photograph suspended in a simple silver frame. She handed the photograph to Mel. It was Tux, and he was holding a little girl. They were twirling, the girl’s natural ringlets swirling across her face. Her mouth was open and she was laughing. Mel closed her eyes, and not only could she feel herself spinning, she could also hear Mr. Frohberger whistling, and she and Tux were dancing. They were on the sidewalk just outside the store. And deep in that place that was hurting, she knew it was a memory – not a want-to-have, pretend- to have, try-to-have memory, but a real memory.
“That picture,” Gladys said when Mel opened her eyes, “belongs to you.”
Gladys’s fingers gently stroked the small satin album. Mel wondered if Gladys was going to cry.
“And this album is for you, too.”
Mel picked up the album from Gladys’s hands. Her fingers traced the embossed italic gold letters: C-E-C-I-L-Y.
“I really miss her,” Mel said, looking up at Gladys.
“I know you do,” Gladys said as she reached out and touched Mel’s hand.
34
Good-bye to Paul
The last week Paul was in Riverview, he and Mel spent every day together. They played chess in the library, walked along the river, and ate ice cream on the steps of Frohberger’s. And then on one especially clear day, they rode the bikes back up the mountain. Mel told Paul about her list of beautiful places, and they agreed that Morning Mountain belonged on the list. They talked about their lives, where they had been, and what they had seen; some of it was funny and some of it was sad. Paul told Mel about his parents and about the divorce. Mel told Paul about the letter and Rose and the four-pose picture of her with Cecily, and she told him that Cecily had left. She was surprised how good it felt just to tell the whole truth, just this once, to someone who could actually hear it.
On the last night Paul was in town, his mom invited Mel over for dinner. They ate pizza and watched a movie, and when it was over, Paul and his mom drove her back home.
As Mel opened the van door, Paul also opened the door on his side.
“I can walk myself in,” Mel said quickly.
“I’ll be right back,” Paul said to his mom, ignoring Mel’s comment.
“See you at the library,” Marilyn said as she turned and smiled at Mel.
“Yeah, for sure. And thanks for the pizza and for the ride home.”
Neither Paul nor Mel spoke as they walked to the apartment building. Mel wondered if Paul was also listening to his own thoughts, sorting out what to say. In her head, thoughts came, left, and returned, but she said nothing as they climbed the stairs.
Mel unlocked the door to the apartment to find Gladys sitting on the couch with her hands in her lap.
“Paul,” Mel said, looking at Paul and then to Gladys, “this is my grandma.” Gladys smiled, first at Mel, and then at Paul.
“Nice to meet you,” Paul said.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Gladys answered.
Fearless rubbed himself against Mel’s leg and slipped out the open door and down the stairs.
“Uh, I need to let Fearless out the bottom door,” Mel said as much to Paul as to Gladys. She was grateful for the excuse to walk Paul back down to the entry. They both stopped when they reached the sidewalk.
Paul glanced over his shoulder at the waiting van, and then up to Gladys’s apartment window. He took in a deep breath, pushed his hands into the pockets of his faded jean jacket, and brought his eyes back to Mel.
“So, I’ll be back to visit my mom at Thanksgiving. Do you think you’ll be here?”
Mel smiled. “Yeah, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Great – I’ll call you.”
“I’d like that,” Mel said.
Paul turned and walked back to the van, and Mel walked back up the stairs to Gladys’s.
35
The Fourth Saturday
Mel finished her storytime shift at the library and was walking toward the soup kitchen when she saw her.
“Cecily!” Mel yelled as she began running.
Cecily turned. Mel slowed to a jog.
“Cecily?” Mel said, this time making sure it was, in fact, her mom.
“Oh God, Mel,” Cecily said. “I’m so sorry.”
Cecily wrapped her arms around Mel’s shoulders. Mel couldn’t imagine anything feeling better.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Cecily said. “It just seemed like the best thing to do, you at Gladys’s, having friends, a job, and …”
“It’s okay; I knew you’d come back,” Mel told her. “I knew you wouldn’t just leave me.”
“I got here today and I was hoping that you’d come back with me. I just called Gladys.” Then she paused and added, “We came to get the car out of the city pound and we were going to go by the library next.” Cecily leaned down and kissed the top of Mel’s head.
“We?” Mel asked as she pulled away and looked up at Cecily.
Cecily’s eyes shifted to the road.
Mel followed them. It was the Pinto. And in the car was Craig.
“Craig?” Mel asked, looking back at Cecily. Her heart started to hammer against her chest.
“Hey, Mel,” Craig said over the bass music, leaning toward the passenger seat. “Are you coming with us?”
Mel didn’t answer. Instead her eyes went back to Cecily, then to the sidewalk, and then away. “What did he say about us taking the car?
Did he say anything about my journal and …” Her voice trailed off.
“It’s going to be okay,” Cecily said, reading Mel’s thoughts. “God, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, but Craig …” He was the last person Mel wanted to see again.
“Don’t worry. Things are going to be different this time,” Cecily assured her. “I promise.”
“But you said there was no going back.”
“Sometimes plans change,” Cecily whispered.
“I have a cat.” Mel said the words as a matter of fact, making sure it was clear to Cecily that Fearless was coming with her.
“Okay,” Cecily said, and then looked down at Craig. “A cat’s okay, don’t you think, Craig?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Craig said, nodding his head.
Cecily opened the front door. Mel hesitated but then opened the door to the back and got in, her eyes on the soup kitchen door as they pulled away from the curb. Mel would have liked to have gone in, to have said good-bye to Rose and Gus.
“Gladys said she’d pack up your things for you,” Cecily said as she looked over her shoulder at Mel.
Mel nodded but said nothing.
It seemed like Craig was looking in the rearview mirror every few seconds, making eye contact. Mel decided to keep her head down. As they went past Frohberger’s, she looked sideways into the shop window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Frohberger.
Craig pulled the car up to the curb in front of Gladys’s.
“Make it quick,” he told Mel.
“Yeah, I will.”
“Are you going to come in with me?” Mel whispered to Cecily through the window of the car door.
“No, that’s probably not a good idea,” Cecily said, looking at Craig and then at the apartment.
“Maybe you could stay here, with me and Gladys. She seems different – nicer,” Mel whispered in an even softer voice.
“Just go get your things, okay?” Cecily whispered back.
Mel turned and walked toward the front door of the apartment building. She didn’t exactly know why, but when she reached the door to Gladys’s apartment, she knocked. Maybe it was a case of nerves, or maybe it was because it gave her a few extra moments to think about what she was going to say.
Gladys opened the door. Mel looked straight into her eyes.
“Can Cecily stay here – with us?”
“I gave her that option, when she came by and dropped off the letter,” Gladys said.
“You did?” Mel asked.
“At the time, I didn’t know if it was better to tell you or not.”
Without really thinking it through, Mel ran back down the stairs to the idling Pinto.
“Gladys said you can stay,” she told Cecily, not giving away that she understood Cecily already knew that.
“Go get your things,” Cecily answered back.
Craig revved the engine. “Come on, Mel, we don’t have all day.”
“You don’t have to go with him,” Mel said. Her voice was tense, and she was on the verge of yelling the words at Cecily.
“Look,” Cecily said, “just go back and get the cat and your things.”
“I just thought maybe …”
“Go. Now!” Cecily said harshly, and then she lifted her menthol cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.
Mel ran.
Gladys was waiting with a bag of Mel’s clothes in one arm and Fearless in the other when Mel opened the door.
“She said I could bring Fearless,” Mel said, looking at Gladys’s sad face.
“I know,” Gladys said. Her voice was quiet.
The beep! beep! from the horn on the Pinto came through the open window in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” Mel said as she lifted both Fearless and her things from Gladys’s arms. “Really, I am.”
“Me too,” Gladys said. Her lower jaw was shaking.
The honking sounded again, only now the beeps were longer and felt louder.
“I promise I’ll visit – I’ll come for Thanksgiving.”
Gladys nodded.
“Tell Mr. Frohberger – tell him – I’ll see him then, too.”
Gladys kept nodding.
The horn gave a long blare.
“And call Lisa at the library. Tell her I’m really sorry.”
“I will,” Gladys said as she took in a deep breath.
Mel ran down the stairs, out the door, and along the sidewalk. Just as she was about to get in the car she looked up at the kitchen window. Gladys was there.
Mel paused for a brief moment. She lifted her hand from her bag of clothes, gave a little wave, and got into the car.
As they pulled away from the curb, Craig looked into the rearview mirror at her. “I was hoping that you’d come back with us,” he said with a continued stare. And then there was a short pause. “And just so you know, your books are all safe and sound.”
A shiver ran up Mel’s spine. Her heart began to pound and she knew he’d found her journal. Mel knew she needed to say she was sorry, get it over with, tell him that that stuff about wanting to call the police was a lie. But the words sat, as though they had a will of their own and were unwilling to be spoken. As Craig shifted gears and sped up, a bottle, half full, rolled from under the driver’s seat to the space at her feet, and then it rolled back under the front seat again. Mel recognized the bottle and its contents. Whiskey.
36
Home
“Stop!” Mel yelled.
Craig was caught off guard and he screeched the car to a halt. Mel swung the door open and jumped out, taking her things and Fearless with her.
“What are you doing?” Cecily asked, half asking, half yelling.
“I’m going home,” Mel said as she stepped away from the car. “Are you coming with me?”
Craig revved the engine.
“Please, Mel, don’t do this,” Cecily pleaded.
“Are you?” Mel asked the question again even though she knew the answer.
“I’m sorry, Mel, I can’t. Not right now.” Cecily shook her head. “I’m really sorry.”
“Me too,” Mel said.
Cecily closed her eyes, and Mel watched as tears streamed down Cecily’s cheeks.
“White light,” Mel whispered as the smoke from Cecily’s cigarette drifted from the car out the window.
Cecily nodded.
Craig hit the gas pedal hard, and they were gone.
Epilogue
Mel used some of the money she earned at the library to buy a new pair of jeans and a shirt; the rest she tucked into a sock in the top drawer of her dresser, the one that used to be Cecily’s. Gladys gave her money for a book bag and shoes.
On September 7, Mel walked down the school hallway to Room 214. She took a seat near the front, next to the window, and absorbed the laughter and excitement of her classmates recounting their summer adventures. Picking up the booklet that had been placed on her desk, she carefully folded back the cover and read the only words printed on the first page.
Magic is believing in yourself; if you can do that, you can make anything happen.
– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,
German Playwright, Poet, Novelist, Dramatist
Mel smiled and thought about Cecily and Tux. If Cecily were here, she would have said it was a sign.
A Tinfoil Sky Page 13
