Beverly, Right Here

by Kate DiCamillo

  “What happened to her?”

  “She’s in Georgia now,” said Beverly. “She found a family.”

  Elmer didn’t say anything. She could hear him breathing. Even with the crash and mutter of waves, she could hear Elmer’s breath.

  “What about your family?” he said.

  “I used to have a dog. Buddy. He was from the pound. Me and Louisiana and Raymie rescued him. Anyway, Buddy died. And I buried him in the backyard, and then I came here because I couldn’t stand it — that empty feeling.”

  “What about your mother?” said Elmer.

  “What about her?”

  “Does she know where you are?”

  “I called her. I told her I’m okay.”

  “Are you going back?” said Elmer.

  “I don’t know,” said Beverly.

  “My parents are really glad that I got this scholarship to Dartmouth,” said Elmer, “and they’re really glad that I get to go away to school. But my mother cries about it all the time, too.”

  “Because you’re leaving?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Elmer. “I’m her baby.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m not my mother’s baby. And she’s fine without me. She’s drunk most of the time anyway. She doesn’t know if I’m coming or going.”

  “I bet she pays more attention to you than you think,” said Elmer.

  “I doubt it,” said Beverly. “At work, there’s this woman named Doris. She’s the cook. She keeps an eye on me. She’s always giving Freddie — the waitress — the business, making sure that Freddie tips out with me. Doris keeps talking about equity. Equity is her favorite word. I was thinking about that — how no matter what, things are never fair.”

  Elmer turned his head and looked at her. “Yeah,” he said. “But I guess you have to keep working to try and make them fair, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s the point in being here?” He turned his head back and looked up at the sky. “I can see stars,” he said.

  “I know,” said Beverly. “I can see them, too.”

  “‘The little stars were the herring fish that lived in the beautiful sea,’” said Elmer.

  “What?”

  “That’s part of ‘Wynken, Blynken, and Nod’— that poem. The nursery rhyme.”

  “What’s the rest of it?”

  “‘Now cast your nets wherever you wish — never afraid are we!’ And ‘“Where are you going and what do you wish?” the old moon asked the three.’ I just know bits and pieces. I don’t know the whole thing.”

  “When Buddy died, when we buried him, we said some poetry. Raymie said we had to. It was that one about slipping the surly bonds. Do you know that one?”

  “Yeah,” said Elmer. “I know that one. I like that poem. I like poetry. I don’t write it, but I like it a lot. That’s something you’re not supposed to say out loud if you’re a guy. In case someone like Jerome hears you. And then beats the crap out of you, for being a poetry-loving sissy.” He sat up suddenly. He shouted, “I like poetry!”

  He turned to her. He was smiling. She could see his teeth, white in the darkness. “That felt good,” he said. “You should try it. Shout the truth about something.”

  Beverly sat up. She wasn’t going to shout that she loved poetry, because she wasn’t certain that she did. What was the truth? The truth was that she missed Buddy. She missed Raymie. She missed Louisiana.

  “I miss everyone!”

  That’s what she ended up shouting.

  And then, “I miss my father!”

  It felt strange to say it, shout it, admit it.

  “Where is he?” said Elmer. “Your dad?”

  “Gone,” said Beverly. “I don’t know. New York. At least that’s where he was last time I knew anything about it. He slipped the surly bonds.”

  “Right,” said Elmer. He lay back down. “Those good old surly bonds. Do you know what the janitor said to me?”

  “What janitor?”

  “Mr. Jerowski. The guy who yelled at me in Polish when he found me tied up in his closet. After he was done yelling, he took all the duct tape off, and his hands were shaking. He was crying. He kept saying, ‘Fast, fast. I do it fast. It hurts less fast.’

  “I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I was fine. But I couldn’t make myself say it. And he kept crying and saying, ‘I’m sorry to hurt you. I’m sorry to hurt you.’ Like that, over and over.” Elmer shook his head. “He cried. And I cried.”

  Beverly reached over and grabbed Elmer’s hand. She didn’t hold on to it. She just squeezed it and then let it go.

  “How does it go with the herrings again?” she said.

  “‘The little stars were the herring fish that lived in the beautiful sea.’”

  “Yeah,” said Beverly. “That is incredibly, incredibly stupid — fish being stars.”

  “Most everything is incredibly stupid,” said Elmer. “Speaking of which: Wanna go to a dance?”

  “Sure,” said Beverly. “We could maybe win the world’s largest turkey.”

  “We could,” said Elmer.

  Beverly sat with her arms wrapped around her knees and looked up at the stars — or the herring fish, or whatever they were — shining up there.

  “And the part about the nets?” she said. “How does that go?”

  But Elmer didn’t answer her. She looked over at him. He was asleep.

  “It was like, cast your nets wherever you want,” she said. “Right? Don’t be afraid to cast your nets, and you will maybe catch yourself some herring fish that twinkle like stars.”

  She lay down next to him.

  She listened to the ocean, to Elmer breathing.

  The sand was still warm.

  When Beverly got to Mr. C’s the next day, the door had a sign on it that said:

  Unfortunately, we are experiencing some small problems and will be closed today. Please visit us tomorrow for the best fish in the C!

  Sincerely, Mr. C

  Beverly tried the door. It was locked. She went around back. The kitchen door was propped open with the cement block, and Charles and Doris were in the kitchen, sitting on tall stools at a metal table. They were playing cards. The little fan from Mr. Denby’s office was on the floor, turning and turning, still searching for something.

  “Hey,” said Beverly.

  “Hey yourself, Aunt Beverly,” said Doris.

  Charles nodded at her. His green knit cap was pulled down low over his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” said Beverly.

  “It’s a strike,” said Doris.

  “What?”

  “We’re on strike,” said Doris.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means,” said Doris. “Some justice. Some equity. Benefits for one thing. Better pay for another. It means I’m not cooking and Charles is not washing dishes until things change.”

  “Things need to change,” said Charles.

  “Right,” said Doris. “And how do things change?”

  “You make them change,” said Charles.

  “That’s right,” said Doris.

  “Where’s Mr. Denby?” said Beverly.

  “He’s in his office, I’m sure — sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He’s in there thinking, How am I going to get out of this? But guess what? It’s too late. He can’t get out of it.”

  Doris slammed both her hands down on the metal table, and Beverly felt a small jolt go through her.

  “It’s time to make things change,” said Doris.

  Freddie came into the kitchen. She put her hands on her hips and said, “You people are ruining everything for everyone else.”

  “So you say,” said Doris. She shuffled the cards.

  “It’s not right,” said Freddie.

  “You play cards?” Doris said to Beverly.

  “Sure,” said Beverly.

  “Pull up a stool, then.”

  “Don’t do it,” said Freddie. “You could be a waitress. You could be a model. You could
be a Living Darlene.”

  “I don’t want to be a Living Darlene,” said Beverly.

  “What’s a living Darlene?” said Charles.

  “Somebody famous,” said Freddie.

  “Fame ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, if you ask me,” said Charles. He adjusted his knit cap.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” said Freddie. “And what do you know about it, anyway? You were nothing but a football player. Big deal and so what.”

  Doris started to deal the cards.

  Freddie said, “This is ridiculous.”

  Mr. Denby came into the kitchen. His mustache looked crooked. His hair was standing up on top of his head. “Are we ready to move along now?” he said. “Are we ready to cook some fish?”

  “No,” said Doris. “We aren’t.”

  Mr. Denby put both his hands on top of his head and pushed down hard. It was as if he were working to keep his head attached to his shoulders. “I am raising three children,” he said.

  “Yep,” said Doris. She slapped a card down on the table. “I’ve raised five children. I’ve got sixteen grandchildren.”

  “What are we playing?” said Beverly.

  “Poker,” said Doris.

  “I’m working to make the world better for my kids,” said Mr. Denby.

  “That’s the thing,” said Doris. “That’s it right there. You need to be working to make it better for all of us. I want sick days. I want some insurance. I’m tired of getting paid under the table.”

  “I want the world to be a better place for all of us, too,” said Freddie.

  Doris snorted.

  Mr. Denby walked around the kitchen, alternately pulling at his hair and pushing his head down on his shoulders. He looked into the fish fryer.

  “Do you know how to work this?” he said.

  “I sure do,” said Doris.

  “I’m not talking to you,” said Mr. Denby.

  “Good,” said Doris. “I’m not talking to you, either.”

  “Mr. Denby?” said Freddie. “If I don’t wait tables, I don’t get any money. Are you going to pay us for being here today?”

  “Pay you?” said Mr. Denby. “Pay you for what? You’re not working. I’ve got three children I need to support. My wife isn’t talking to me. I can’t explain why — it’s too complicated to explain. Sometimes, things happen that you just can’t explain to other people. Or to yourself for that matter. And you surely can’t explain it to your children. Just try explaining things to children! What I’m saying is that sometimes things spin out of control.” Mr. Denby put both his hands on his head and pushed down.

  “Yep,” said Doris.

  Beverly thought about the photo of Mr. Denby at Christmas. She knew it was a lie. All those Santa hats and those smiles — all that happiness.

  “Mr. Denby,” said Freddie, “I’m trying to save my money so that I can move to Hollywood and live out my destiny. If you’re not going to pay me, then I need to find another job.”

  “Fine,” said Mr. Denby. He had taken his hands off the top of his head and was fiddling with one of the knobs on the giant stove.

  “But, Mr. Denby, I’m your best waitress.”

  “You’re the only waitress,” said Doris. “And, Mr. Denby, you should leave those knobs alone. You don’t know what you’re doing, and there’s no point in you blowing us all to kingdom come. Now, I’m no fool. I know that this restaurant makes good money. I want you to go back to your office and get out your adding machine and figure out how you can pay us all some kind of living wage, along with some kind of benefits. Do the paperwork.”

  “Right,” said Mr. Denby. “Okay.”

  He bent down and unplugged the fan.

  “Do not,” said Doris, “take that fan.”

  “Right,” said Mr. Denby. He plugged the fan back in. He stood up. He put his hands on his head and walked out of the kitchen.

  “This is terrible,” said Freddie. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Charles shook his head. “This?” he said. “This is nothing.”

  Beverly pulled a stool up to the table. She picked up her cards.

  “You can’t stay with them,” Freddie said to Beverly.

  “Yes, I can,” said Beverly.

  “Well, I’m not staying,” said Freddie.

  “Good,” said Charles.

  “Good,” said Doris.

  “Good,” said Beverly.

  Freddie left, and the seagull appeared at the open back door. He studied the three of them with beady eyes.

  Doris said, “You understand that Charles and I aren’t going anywhere, right? We’re not going to leave this kitchen until Mr. Denby gives in. We’ll stay here all day and night if we have to.”

  “You’re going to stay overnight?” said Beverly.

  “Whatever it takes,” said Doris. “After all, we’ve got plenty of food. Lots of fish.”

  Freddie came flouncing back into the kitchen. “You should stop this,” she said. “It’s not going to work. He’ll just find somebody else to cook fish. He’ll just find somebody else to do the dishes. You can be replaced.”

  “I’m not moving,” said Doris.

  “You should get up,” Freddie said to Beverly. “Things aren’t going to change. You’re on the wrong side.”

  “No,” said Beverly.

  Freddie left the kitchen again.

  “She’ll be back,” said Charles. “That’s how it is with people like her.”

  Doris sighed. “Don’t I know it,” she said.

  The seagull turned his head from left to right, considering. He hopped closer to the threshold.

  “No,” said Doris without even looking in the seagull’s direction. She pounded her fist on the metal table. “No, you do not.”

  The seagull hopped backward.

  “We are playing five-card draw,” said Doris.

  “Okay,” said Beverly.

  Five minutes later, Freddie came back into the kitchen. “We’re in charge of our own destinies, you know.”

  “Yep,” said Doris.

  “Okay, well, I’m not talking to you, Doris. I’m talking to Beverly. I can’t believe what a traitor you are. I’m the reason you got hired in the first place. Plus I made that name tag for you.”

  Beverly shrugged. “You spelled my name wrong,” she said. “And I’m not doing anything. I’m just sitting here playing poker.”

  “Traitor,” said Freddie. And she turned and left again.

  Beverly stared at her cards. She studied the haughty, disdainful face on the queen of diamonds. It reminded her of the face of the angel in the painting.

  Outside the open door, past the seagull and the dumpsters and the hotels, there was a small strip of ocean visible. It was a bright, sparkling blue.

  Not as bright as lapis lazuli.

  But bright enough.

  Beverly suddenly felt as if she were exactly where she was supposed to be.

  Doris knocked on the table. “It’s your turn, Aunt Beverly,” she said. “Don’t stop paying attention now.”

  Beverly stayed at Mr. C’s for most of the afternoon and then went down to Zoom City to meet Elmer.

  “I guess I don’t have a job anymore,” she said. “I kind of feel like I should be in the kitchen with Doris and Charles, you know? Like maybe I should have stayed there with them — on strike. But I need to get Iola to the dance. I promised I would.”

  They were on the side of A1A, walking to Iola’s. Elmer had a suit jacket slung over his shoulder.

  “What you should do is go home,” said Elmer.

  “Yeah,” said Beverly. “Duh. That’s where we’re going.”

  “No,” said Elmer. “I mean your real home. I mean you should go back.”

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  “What about school?”

  “What about it?

  “It’s starting soon. You need to stay in school. You need to graduate.”

  “So I can go to college?
” said Beverly. “On a full scholarship? To Dartmouth?”

  Elmer shrugged. “It could happen.”

  “No. It couldn’t.”

  “All kinds of things happen that you don’t think could ever happen,” Elmer said.

  “Right,” said Beverly. “Sure they do.”

  Iola was waiting for them out front. She was dressed for the dance. She was wearing a flowered dress and green shoes. She had on rouge.

  Elmer said, “You look great, Mrs. Jenkins.”

  “You brought a jacket,” said Iola.

  “Yeah, and look what else I brought.” He pulled a striped tie out of his book bag.

  “You brought a tie!” said Iola.

  “It’s a dance, right? I’ve got to dress right.”

  He reached back into his book bag and took out a piece of paper. He held the paper out to Beverly. “This is for you,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a picture. Of you,” he said. “Duh.”

  Beverly looked down at the face on the paper. She didn’t recognize it. She knew that it was her, but at the same time, it didn’t make any sense that it was her.

  “Will you look at that?” said Iola. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” Beverly said to Elmer. She looked up at him, and then she looked back down again. She felt mad for some reason that she didn’t understand. She folded the paper in half.

  “Honey!” said Iola. “What are you doing? Don’t do that. You’ll ruin it.”

  “It’s fine,” said Elmer. His face was very red. “I don’t care.”

  “Give it to me,” said Iola.

  Beverly handed the paper to Iola, who worked to straighten out the crease. Her hands were shaking.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Elmer.

  “Yes, it does,” said Iola.

  “Let’s just go,” said Beverly. “It starts at five, right? Let’s just go to the stupid dance.”

  Beverly drove the Pontiac.

  Iola sat in the front, and Elmer sat in the back with his jacket on and his arms crossed over his striped tie.

  “Oh, I’m just so excited,” said Iola. “My heart is beating so fast. I hope I win the turkey.”