Broken (15 page)

Anna Mae stepped out into the July sunshine. The streets were bustling: university students with arms full of books, medical personnel with their white coats and green scrubs, and clerical types with nametags pinned to their blouses. Even the air was different than it was in the mill town: traffic exhaust mingled with cooking smells from scores of ethnic cafés and fast food restaurants. She walked to a busy corner. In less than two minutes, the bus stopped at the curb and she climbed aboard.

She took a seat by the window to watch the passing scenes of the big city. The memory of her voice on tape faded quickly. She did, however, think about the doctor. If she had a grandfather, or rather if she knew who her grandfather was, she would want him to be just like Dr. Rhukov. Leaning back and squaring her shoulders, she felt immensely satisfied about having made this trip all by herself. Ironically, she had made it before. However, since she didn’t remember, it didn’t count. 

The ride home went quickly and before Anna Mae realized, she was in Warrenvale. She dropped her coins into the fare box and stepped down to the curb, into the familiar odor of smoke and soot. By the time she reached the top of Vickroy Street, she felt the fatigue of the day. She hadn’t told Sarah about Dr. Rhukov. As she opened her front door, she hoped her long absence wouldn’t be questioned.

Sarah’s shrill voice greeted her. “Is that you, Anna Mae?”

She stopped inside the door. Someone was with Sarah in the living room.

“Anna Mae? Sweetheart?” Sarah’s voice was gushing and artificial.

Cautiously, Anna Mae stepped forward. The hall was dim and in a flash of a frightening second, she thought Walter was waiting for her. Then just as quickly the illusion vanished, and Anna Mae continued into the sunlit living room.

Sarah was sitting at one end of the sofa and the Channel 11 News reporter, Bob McCarthy, was at the other. Sarah jumped up indicating that Anna Mae should sit next to the reporter. Anna Mae, still standing, looked at the man with the red hair and green eyes. Because of her two-week blackout, Anna Mae didn’t know if she had seen the reporter since the funeral. Hesitantly, she sat down where Sarah had been sitting and asked, “What’s going on here?”

“It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you…” he began.

Anna Mae thought,
well, that answers my first question.

“…and I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries, but I thought I would stop by and check on the family.”

“We’re fine,” she said. “Is that all?”

Sarah’s cheeks reddened. “Anna Mae! The nice young man just wants to know if we’re okay.”

Without taking her eyes from McCarthy, Anna Mae said, “The nice young man, Aunt Sarah, wants to put our family problems on the news.”

Sarah looked at her in disbelief as Anna Mae wondered how much Sarah had already told the reporter. Did she reveal the details of Stanley’s death? And Walter’s incarceration? Did she tell him enough to turn their tragedy into a sensational, two-minute news story? Before Anna Mae had a chance to ask, the front door flew open and banged shut.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! BLASTOFF!”

Roaring like rockets, David and Johnny Tamero bounded up the steps to the second floor. Anna Mae smiled. Since Walter had gone to jail, David’s interest in aeronautics and the space program had skyrocketed. And his whole demeanor had changed. No longer tip-toeing around the house, David had become a normal, unrestrained and very annoying ten-year-old.

She wished it were as easy for her. Even now, she sometimes found herself listening for Walter’s car or looking over her shoulder.

“I assure you,” said Bob McCarthy, regaining Anna Mae’s attention, “I am not here looking for a story. I just wanted to stop by and...”

Anna Mae shot him a look that stopped him cold. He began rubbing his hands together as though he weren’t sure what to do with them. Then suddenly he clasped them together and stood up. “Well, I wanted to make sure you were all doing fine. And I see that you are,” he said moving toward the foyer. “So I’ll be going now.”

Anna Mae didn’t move from the sofa, but Sarah trailed after the reporter, fawning as she went, telling him he could drop by any time. When he was gone, she rushed back to the living room. “Anna Mae!” she said with great enthusiasm, “I think he likes you.”

Anna Mae stood up and placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “I know you mean well,” she said with affection, “but don’t let that man in our house again.”

Frowning, Sarah nodded dutifully. “I just said I think he likes you.”

“That’s not why he came here,” said Anna Mae. “And besides he’s too old for me.”

The next day Sergeant Smith called Anna Mae at home. He apologized profusely over his inability to keep his promise to protect her. Though he couldn’t change what happened in the past, he had done what he could to make up for it by cashing in on a favor. He had managed to get a court order. Walter would not make bail while awaiting trial. The call made Anna Mae feel better. It was nice to know somebody cared.

During the next two months the little family gradually adjusted to a peaceful but curiously empty home. Anna Mae kept all her appointments with Dr. Rhukov. Each session began with the doctor asking her if she wanted to listen to the tape again. No. She wanted to talk about present problems. One day she asked Dr. Rhukov, “Do I have to talk about the past? I know you want me to, but I hate the thought of going there.”

“You will talk about it when you are ready,” he told her. “Forcing the mind to give up its secrets too soon may cause great damage. So come and visit me each week and we will see how it goes.”

On a sweltering afternoon in mid-August, Sarah and Anna Mae sat down at the dining room table to confront the mounting bills laid out before them. Sarah’s rainy day savings were not going to last much longer. As she added and re-added the figures, Anna Mae kept wiping perspiration from her face with a kitchen towel. She had asked Angelo to ask his cousin if he needed help at The Pizza Parlor and she was waiting for his call.

“Listen to this!” David rushed into the room yelling. Nudging Sarah aside, he opened a newspaper on top of the bills. With his thick brown curls wet with sweat and hanging in his face, he all but crawled onto the table, leaning over the newspaper, and tracing the small print with his finger. “The interior of the moon has been found to be so lumpy that the resulting ir-reg-u-larity in the moon’s gra-vi-ta-tional field may seriously com-com-pli-complicate efforts to land the astronauts at their des-ig-na-ted targets.”

Sarah’s face was a blank. Anna Mae rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling.

“It says here,” David enthusiastically continued, “The five circular seas under-lain by lumps of heavy material lie in the equa-tor-equatorial material region where the manned spacecraft Project Apollo are expected to operate.”

Anna Mae put her hands on her hips. “Will you shut up and get that stupid paper off the table! Nobody cares about lumps on the moon.”

He looked up at her. Despite the hurt in his eyes, Anna Mae reached for the newspaper, intending to remove it. But Sarah placed her hand firmly on the paper, saying, “It’s okay, Davie. You can read it to me.”

“You’ll be sorry,” David said to Anna Mae, “when the astronauts land on the moon and you don’t know anything about it.”

“I’ll only be sorry that you won’t be with them,” she countered.

“So will I,” he shot back.

“Stop it!” ordered Sarah.

His enthusiasm gone, David closed the newspaper, folded it carefully as though it were a precious document, then folded it again and tucked it under his arm. He looked at the papers on the table. “What’s all this?”

“Bills!” Anna Mae snapped.

The phone rang and Anna Mae disappeared into the kitchen. Three minutes later, she was back in the dining room. “I got the job. I start tomorrow.”

It was a chilly Saturday in early October. Cumulus clouds the color of wood-smoke drifted across the azure sky. Anna Mae, now a sophomore, and Angelo, a senior, sat together on Tamero’s backyard swing. She was wearing a pink nylon jacket, Angelo, a blue Warrenvale High T-shirt. She wondered if he was cold. But she didn’t ask him. She was more concerned about the conversation she knew was coming.

“I don’t believe it,” Angelo said, “You really don’t remember the fireworks?”

She gazed at a clump of marigolds near the back fence. She was so tired of having to explain herself. By this time Angelo should know that Walter’s attack back in July would have caused her a major blackout. When she didn’t respond, Angelo leaned closer and laughed, “How could anyone forget fireworks?”

She put her head down and moved away from him. “That’s not funny!”

“Sure it is,” he said. And then he groaned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot. The fireworks—that came right after...”

“And I don’t remember anything that happened for weeks!”

He reached out and cupped her chin, turning her face toward him. She saw the regret in his eyes. “I guess it is kinda funny,” she said, not wanting him to feel worse.

He pulled her close. “No, Anna Mae, it isn’t funny. No one should have to go through what you go through.”

She pushed him away. “Your mother’s watching.”

Together they looked toward the back of his house, to the kitchen window. His mother was busy. She moved back and forth in front of the window. She wasn’t looking out.

“She can’t see us,” he said.

“Well she might. And besides, you still haven’t told me what your dad found out. I keep asking Sarah. She won’t tell me. All she does is cry.”

The swing jiggled as Angelo leaned back. He looked up into the brilliant orange and yellow leaves of the ancient oak that supported the swing. His face grew serious. “My dad said the reason there wasn’t a trial was because your uncle’s guilt was evident. Walter’s lawyer told him it was better to plead guilty and make a deal. You know, like on television. That’s when...”

“I know what a ‘deal’ is,” she snapped.

Angelo held his hand up and methodically touched each finger with his thumb, counting the charges: “Two counts simple assault—that’s for you and your Aunt Sarah. One count of aggravated assault—that’s for David. The charge for Davie is worse. Aggravated assault usually means there was a weapon, but because of Davie being only ten years old...anyway, another charge for resisting arrest and another for assaulting an officer. My dad said Walter got off easy—he only got two to five years.”

“Big deal,” said Anna Mae.

“If it had gone to trial he probably would have gotten a whole lot more. Aggravated assault and assaulting an officer are bad news. Not only that, the charges could have been stacked.”

“Stacked?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice taking on a know-it-all attitude. “In cop talk that means...”

She hit him playfully in the chest. “Don’t give me that ‘cop talk’ crap. Just tell me what it means!”

“Cop talk?”

She stared at him, deadpan.

He quickly changed his attitude and his tone became serious. “As it is, the sentences run parallel. If they were stacked,” he explained, “it would be one sentence after another. Walter would be in for a long, long time.”

“I wish it had gone to trial,” she said. “Two to five? I’ll be eighteen—maybe twenty-one. Maybe I won’t even be here. I hope I’m not here.”

Angelo reached down and grabbed her bare foot. She tilted back in the swing as he removed her sandal and flung it across the yard. “You can’t go anywhere without your shoes. Unless we elope. I would elope with you, shoes or no shoes,” he said tickling her foot.

“Stop it!” she shrieked.

“Not until you say you’ll stay for lunch.”

“I’ll stay! I’ll stay,” she giggled trying to kick him away.

He let go of her foot, then solemnly walked across the yard and picked her sandal out of the flowerbed. He brought it back, then dropped to his knees and slipped it onto her bare foot. “Y’ know,” he said looking up at her, “we’re free now.”

She reached down and ran her fingers through his thick, black hair. “I wish it were true. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of Walter.”

“What does Dr. Rhukov say?”

She picked up a golden leaf and twirled it in her fingers. “Me and Dr. Rhukov, we go around and around and seem to go nowhere.”

“You haven’t had any more blackouts,” he reminded her.

“That’s because Walter’s in jail.”

“I bet he’ll lose his temper and hurt someone in jail,” Angelo said, “And then they’ll keep him longer. Add on a few more years.”

“Not likely,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about Walter anymore. Life was good now. She wanted to enjoy it.

Angelo’s mother opened the back door, filling the brisk autumn air with the aroma of garlic, basil, and yeasty, hot homemade bread. “You kids come inside. Lunch is ready.”

“Come on,” he said pulling her up. “Let’s go eat!”

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Anna Mae and David went to the early church service. As soon as they came home, David ran upstairs to take off his good clothes. Anna Mae went to the kitchen to check on Sarah.

Slanted rays of morning sun brightened the table where Sarah sat with a half a cup of cold coffee. She held a crumpled handkerchief to her nose, her eyes were red and swollen.

Anna Mae sat down across from her. “Two to five years,” she said, reaching across the table to touch Sarah’s hand. “That’s not such a long time.”

“I miss Walter so much already,” Sarah said. “He was the only one in the world who really loved me.”

Anna Mae shook her head. Her Aunt was lost. Who would she now fawn over? Bend over backwards to please? Who would she wait for at the end of the day, hoping for a wee bit of recognition, a scrap of appreciation, or a crumb of affection? Anna Mae looked at the sleeve of Sarah’s faded blue housecoat. It had been sewn together with yellow thread and was now pulling apart again. She wondered if Sarah knew the difference between love and abuse.

“He won’t have a job when he gets out,” Sarah said walking to the sink and dumping the cold coffee. “And after I pay the December bills, we won’t have a dime left for Christmas.” She thought for a moment then added, “Olga says she knows some people who are looking for a cleaning lady.”

David, who had changed into worn-out jeans and a gray baseball shirt, said from the doorway, “I can get a paper route.”

“No you can’t!” Anna Mae snapped. “We get too many notes from your teacher as it is. Just do your homework. That’s job enough for you.”

David looked as though he had been punched in the stomach and Anna Mae was ashamed of herself. When had she changed from cherishing the little kid who was the brightest spot in the Lipinski household, to treating him like a pesky ten-year-old brother?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re trying to help. If you want to get a paper-route, go ahead. I’ll help you with your homework.”

Paying no attention to Anna Mae’s peace offering, David flopped himself onto a chair. “Just because you’re almost seventeen, that doesn’t give you the right to boss me around.”

“I said I was sorry.”

David ignored her. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s cornflakes in the cupboard,” said Sarah.

“I’m sick of cornflakes,” he said.

“Then eat some toast,” said Anna Mae.

“I’m sick of toast.”

“I have a good idea,” said Anna Mae with feigned cheerfulness. “Why don’t we all get dressed up and go out for breakfast?”

David jumped from his chair. “Can we? Huh?”

Sarah poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “And where do you think we’ll get the money?”

Anna Mae sighed and put her head in her hands. “I was only joking.”

“Oh,” said Sarah, trying to smile.

David, who wasn’t smiling said, “Shit!”

Both Sarah and Anna Mae glared at David. Ignoring them, he went to the cupboard. With a look of disgust, he took out the box of cornflakes.