Broken (5 page)

Anna Mae and David heard the sirens. Pushing a chair to the bedroom window, Anna Mae helped David up so that he could see the blue and white flashing lights. But, whatever was going on was so far away, there wasn’t much to see.

David jumped down and scurried across the room to the bookshelf near his bed. “Horton,” he said, shoving a book at Anna Mae. “Pweaseeee Annie! Read Horton Hatches the Egg!”

“Just one story,” she said, taking the book from his small hands and ruffling his brown curls, “and then I have to study my spelling.”

Monday’s spelling test was important to her final grade. But she had the whole weekend to learn her words. She opened the book.

She read with comfortable ease, grateful as David cuddled against her. Although he couldn’t read, he had heard the story so often that he practically knew it by heart. Pointing to the doleful Elephant balancing precariously on a bending tree branch in the middle of a thunderstorm, David wiggled and exclaimed, “Rain!”

“And he sat all day,” Anna Mae read.

“He kept the egg warm!” David beamed.

“And he sat all night.”

“Anna Mae!” Sarah called up the stairs. “David should have been in bed an hour ago.”

David ran to the top of the stairs. “Annie is reading me a story.”

“You go to bed!” Sarah ordered.

Grumbling, David went back to the bedroom. Anna Mae had already closed the book. “I’ll read you the rest tomorrow.”

Side by side, they knelt beside David’s bed. Anna Mae had taught David to say his bedtime prayers. If it had been up to Sarah or Walter, he never would have learned. A few years back, when cleaning her aunt and uncles bedroom, she found a dusty box. In it was a Bible. Not long afterwards, Walter caught her reading the New Testament. He ripped it out of her hands and threw it across the room yelling, “Bullshit! All bullshit! I don’t want you getting any goofy ideas reading that thing!”

If anything, that made Anna Mae even more eager to know what was on those pages. She hid the Bible in her closet behind her shoes and took it out when Walter wasn’t around. The more she read, the stronger her faith grew and she began to take David to church almost every Sunday.

Now they knelt together side by side and she smiled as David blessed everyone from the mailman to the old woman down the street, who wore a winter coat when it wasn’t cold. “. . . and God bless Anna Mae, and Stanley, and my mother, and…and…pweasee God, make Daddy not be mad when he gets home.”

“Aaaa…men!”

*     *     *

It was after midnight when Walter left the bar. As his car swerved toward home, a picture of his father’s face flashed through his head. And just as quickly, he was assaulted with a vivid image of his father attacking him with a shovel. Walter’s meaty hands gripped the steering wheel as the car bounced up onto the curb and back down again only to veer over the white line. An oncoming car screeched to a stop. Walter, blinded by the car’s headlights, swerved back into his own lane ignoring the curses that followed him.

Moments later, he pulled to the curb in front of his house, flipped the gearshift into park, and turned off the key. His muddled thoughts went back through time: the accident at the mill, hunting everywhere for Anna Mae, the hospital, the brawl at Mickey’s, finding Anna Mae sitting in the church. Anna Mae. Anna Mae! 

When he walked into the house, Sarah was sleeping in front of the new Dupont television. He walked upstairs. He stood in the doorway staring at Anna Mae who was sleeping with her spelling book open and her bedside lamp still lit. Anna Mae opened her eyes and saw him standing in the doorway.

*     *     *

The dream was always the same. She sat on a hard, black, shiny surface near a gigantic hole on top of a mountain. The pounding was deafening. Like a giant’s footsteps somewhere behind her. It shook the ground. And there was fire. Fire above. Fire below. Out there everywhere—with the pounding. She covered her face with her arms. And although she couldn’t see the flames, she knew they were receding. The pounding too, diminished. She was alone and terrified. Something that looked like a huge black umbrella without spokes, descended down from above. Down. Over her. Covering her. Smothering her. She pushed at the sides of the shiny material. It gave way to the pressure of her small hands. But it didn’t break. It just molded itself around her hands. And it was tightening, like a ghostly grip. She screamed.

Suddenly, she was floating on her back in the warm brown river. The current was slow, sluggish. The low water level revealed a five-foot mud bank. On top of the bank, vague shadow figures watched her. Anna Mae floated quietly, comfortably, at peace—in the warm brown water.

*     *     *

Four days later.

Anna Mae stood at the back of the schoolyard where a line of fall jackets were hanging haphazardly over the fence. Her classmates slowly came into focus as they ran around in the October sunlight. It had happened again. The last thing she remembered was Friday night, lying in bed studying her spelling.

Her friend, Debbie, out of breath and laughing, called to her. “Come on! Don’t just stand there! Get in line!”

The slant of the sunlight told her school was just starting. She had learned to observe little details that went unnoticed by others. She had to be quick to hide her secret. It was scary. However, whatever caused her to black out was over now. It was Monday. Had she studied on the weekend? Of course she had. She always did her homework.

Debbie ran over to her and took her hand. “Come on!”

Shaking Debbie’s hand away, Anna Mae joined the other students forming single lines to the school doors. She was just getting her bearings when Angelo Tamero approached. He was a head taller, with black curly hair, dimples, and dark brown eyes that sparkled when he looked at Anna Mae.

“Aren’t you in the wrong line?” Debbie asked Angelo sarcastically.

“Naaaa!”

“Yes you are!”

A boy called from the fifth grade line. “Hey! Angelo! Get over here.” Angelo grinned, yanked Anna Mae’s ponytail, then laughing, ran to join his classmates. The bell rang.

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Wilson, a short, plump lady with gray braids rolled into a bun, called her third grade class to order. She then began passing out test papers. Anna Mae waited. Spelling was one of her best subjects. Surely, she had studied. Surely, she would remember her words. A few seconds later, the teacher handed her a test paper that was already completed. There were lots of mistakes and the paper was marked up with red pencil. There was a big ‘D’ in the top left corner.

Her name was at the top right corner. It was in her own handwriting. When had she taken this test? It must be a mistake. She looked at the day and date on the blackboard. Wednesday, October 5th. Wednesday? No. It can’t be. Today is Monday. Is it Monday? She looked at the date under her name. Monday, October 3rd. She didn’t remember taking the test. The blackboard said it was Wednesday.

Her chest hurt as she fought to hold back the tears. They streamed down her face anyway. Some of the other kids turned to look at her as she raised her hand.

“Anna Mae?” said Mrs. Wilson.

“Will you…can I talk to you after class?”

The teacher frowned. “Yes. Certainly.”

A half an hour later, when the other students had left, Anna Mae stayed at her desk. She wanted to tell Mrs. Wilson the truth, that she didn’t remember taking the test. She didn’t remember Monday at all!

But did she dare? What would her teacher think? Would Mrs. Wilson tell the principal? Would they think she was crazy and put her in one of those places with bars on the windows?

“Anna Mae?”

“Never mind.” She gathered her books and ran out of the room.

“Wait!” called the teacher.

Anna Mae didn’t stop. She was afraid to tell. She would never tell anyone!

That night, when she was getting undressed she checked herself in the mirror. Her back was crisscrossed with angry red streaks. So that’s what happened. She was almost relieved, for it seemed as though Walter’s flare-ups came in cycles. It should be awhile now before she would lose another day.

Four years later

August 5, 1965

Sunlight pierced the morning mist that hung over Warrenvale like a shroud. Gone was the massive steel production of the 50’s. The ear-splitting whistles, roars and hisses, were now reduced to an eerie hum or an occasional bang or clang. Two lone smokestacks poured pollution into the sky as the rest loomed like silent sentinels of the once prosperous town.

On this late summer Sunday morning, church bells resonated across town while inside St. Paul’s, the stained glass windows reflected tinted beams down upon the gathering congregation.

Anna Mae McBride and David Lipinski were seated in a middle pew, waiting for the service to begin. Church was Anna Mae’s lifeline; the one place where she found the strength to cope with her harsh family life and periodic blackouts. Earlier that morning she had spent a half an hour braiding her sun streaked blond hair and forced David to put on a white, starched shirt. Uncomfortable, he pulled at the collar and fidgeted in his seat.

She was about to reprimand him when four rows to the front of her, the Henderson family—mother, father, Debbie, and her two younger brothers—stopped beside an empty pew. One by one, they inched their way across until there was enough room for everyone to sit down. Debbie Henderson, her silky chestnut hair held back by a wide yellow band, waved to Anna Mae.

Debbie was Anna Mae’s best friend. In a few weeks they would be starting eighth grade together. Yet it was difficult for Anna Mae to manage a weak smile and she wished the family had seated themselves somewhere else. 

If the Hendersons had been strangers, it would not have bothered her. However, she knew they were as devoted to each other as they appeared to be, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with jealousy. In the Lipinski house, only she and David went to church. Walter said it was a stupid waste of time. Sarah said she went to church every week for Friday night Bingo. Stanley accused Anna Mae of going to church because she thought she was better than everyone.

How could she be better than anyone when her own mother didn’t want her? Not once in thirteen years had her mother, Becky McBride, tried to contact her: not a phone call, not a birthday card, nothing. Anna Mae felt the familiar sadness as Debbie turned around in her seat and waved again. With a twinge of guilt for being so envious, Anna Mae waved back.

How Anna Mae wished she could be as bubbly and outgoing as Debbie. But she couldn’t let down her guard. If she allowed spontaneity into her life, she might be tempted to tell. She had to keep her blackouts a secret. And that kept her anxious and uptight.

She now knew Walter’s beatings caused the lost time. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember anything. Afterward she would try to hide her injuries. When they couldn’t be hidden she lied, saying she had fallen or bumped into something.

From the back of the church, Father John’s words filled the air. “We thank you, Lord, for bringing us together on this beautiful August morning. Be with us, Father...”

By the time Father John finished his opening prayer, Anna Mae’s attention was centered on the service. She stood with the rest of the congregation and opened her hymnal. “Holy God we praise thy name...”

David stepped up on the kneeler to get a better view of the approaching procession. Anna Mae tugged at his shirt and told him to get down.

“Look, Annie!” David pointed. “There’s Angelo!”

Angelo Tamero’s white tunic barely reached below his knees. Carrying the tall wooden cross, he led the singing procession up the aisle towards the altar. Behind Angelo, two cherub-like little boys held candles. Despite double hemmed tunics, they still had to struggle along so they wouldn’t trip.

As the three altar boys passed Anna Mae’s pew, Angelo glanced at Anna Mae, his dimples betraying a suppressed smile. David giggled.

The procession moved forward. The singing grew louder. When they reached the altar, Angelo placed the cross in a holder beside the pulpit then joined the smaller boys, already sitting against the wall by the Bishop’s chair.

With his dimples, high cheekbones, and black curly hair, Angelo Tamero was easily the most handsome boy in Warrenvale, and Anna Mae McBride’s heart beat a little faster when she looked at him.

She put her hymnal down on the hard wooden bench, took the prayer book from the slot in front of her and opened it. Her cheeks felt hot. She was sorry she had looked at Angelo. It was wrong. Not because she looked at him, but because she liked looking at him, and especially in church.

Anna Mae struggled to concentrate. Her mind, like a squirrel leaping from tree to tree, would not be still. Angelo, the Hendersons, Debbie—so many conflicting emotions.

For the next twenty minutes, Anna Mae tried to look as though she was following the service. She kneeled when Father John led the congregation in prayer. She stood with her hymnal open when everyone sang. She sat with her hands folded when she was supposed to listen. But she wasn’t listening.

She was sitting in her bed in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat as the same bad dream faded into the recesses of her mind. She was in the schoolyard standing alone by the fence trying to remember...

Father John was now standing in the pulpit. “The Holy Gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ, according to St. Luke...”

I will not let my mind wander. I will not look at Angelo! I will not look at the Hendersons.

Five minutes later, Father John closed the Bible. Anna Mae let her gaze wander from the priest, to the wooden cross, to the choir in their blue robes, to the bench where Angelo sat with his hands folded. She frowned. If Angelo knew about her blackouts, he would think she was crazy and stay away forever!

The priest’s voice again filled the room. She took a deep breath. She willed herself to listen to the sermon.

“. . . and by his mercy, the lame walked and the blind received their sight.”

And He even helped crazy people! He can help anyone. Even me. Please, God, help me to remember, to have no more blackouts—ever.

After the blessing, the dismissal came quickly. With Father John in the lead, the altar boys and the choir left the sanctuary through the side door.

David pulled her arm. “Com’ on, Annie!”

She resisted his tug. She didn’t want to mingle with the parishioners congregating outside the church. She didn’t want to talk to Debbie or be polite to Mrs. Henderson. In this church, in this pew, she felt safe.

He pulled harder. “Annie! Come on! Let’s go!”

By the time Anna Mae and David left, the only people outside were two old ladies, discussing the marigolds bordering the steps. Anna Mae looked up at the silky threads of cirrus clouds spanning the eastern sky. She made up her mind. She would make this a good day!

Anna Mae and David walked side by side over cracked and littered sidewalks. They passed the row houses with their windows streaked with soot. When they approached Vinko’s Market, David ran ahead into the cluster of pigeons pecking at crumbs on the sidewalk. With a wave of his arms, he sent them fluttering up to the eaves of the three-story building. Avoiding a spatter of droppings on the sidewalk, Anna Mae took David by the hand and led him into the store. A ringing bell, the smell of sawdust and freshly baked bread, greeted them. A young man in a white apron, his arms full of cabbages, stepped out from behind the produce display. His face brightened when he saw Anna Mae.

“Hi, Joey,” she said. “Working hard?”

He placed the cabbages into the bin. “I always work hard, Miss Anna Mae. I bet you and Davie went to church. Sometimes I go to church too.”

Anna Mae smiled. Ever since she was a little girl, Joey Barns had made her feel good by showing a special interest in how she was doing. Anna Mae respected Vinko for employing Joey in spite of his limited intelligence. When Joey’s mother died, Vinko and his wife set Joey up in a small apartment above the store.

Anna Mae picked up a loaf of warm, crusty, Italian bread and laid it on the counter. She then walked down the aisle to the dairy case in the back. Joey followed her, asking her how she was and how was school, and if everyone at home was okay. She never questioned his friendliness. She liked him. He was a nice person. There were times she felt she could confide in Joey, that he was the one person who would not judge her, would not think the blackouts meant she was crazy. However, she only saw him in the store and that certainly was not the place to tell secrets.

Ten minutes later, Vinko placed the bread, a half-gallon of milk, a pound of chipped ham and a dozen eggs into a big brown bag. Anna Mae put her money on the counter. Vinko had already rang it up when David held up a cherry popsicle. Before Anna Mae could protest, Joey handed Vinko fifteen cents.

David beamed. “Thanks, Joey!”

Back outside, the pigeons politely moved aside. David split the Popsicle with Anna Mae then ran ahead of her. She caught up to him. With her Aunt Sarah’s white, embroidered handkerchief, she wiped the sugary red juice from his chin. To the rhythm of his steps and with the Popsicle now dripping sticky red syrup down his arm, David began reciting the names of his personal superstars, The Mercury Seven Astronauts. “Scott, (step) Carpenter, (step) John, (step) Glenn, (step) Gus (step) Grisom…”

In the middle of the block, in front of Jackson’s Pool Hall, a group of teenage boys were gathered around a yellow Chevy convertible. She hoisted the bag of groceries onto her hip and began to cross the street. David didn’t follow. “Come on!”

He sucked the last of the melted Popsicle off the stick. “That’s a cool car. I wanna see it!” 

“No!” She went back to the curb and took his hand.

“Ahhh crap!”

“What did you say?”

“Nothin.’”

When they reached the other side of the street, Anna Mae quickened her pace. She tried to ignore the catcalls and whistles aimed in her direction. She had just dragged David across another intersection when the squeal of tires and an explosion of engine power roared up behind them. To David’s delight and Anna Mae’s dismay, the yellow convertible pulled along the curb to a screeching stop. George Siminoski called out, “Want a lift?”

“No!”

“Annnieee!” David pulled his hand from her grip.

George grinned. “The kid wants a lift.”

Anna Mae kept walking. A moment later, rumbling and bumping, the car lurched up and over the curb, the front end blocking their path.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to carry that heavy bag all the way up the hill.”

David swiped his sticky hand across the shiny, lemon colored fender.

“Hey, kid! Don’t mess up my buggy!”

David stepped back.

George’s sparse hair stuck out in scraggly wisps above his ears and his prescription sunglasses were as thick as the bottoms of Walter’s beer bottles. The size of George’s nose was even more evident, sticking out between the bottle bottoms. David covered his own little nose. “Honk! Honk!”

“David!” Anna Mae was about to apologize for David when George blatantly let his eyes wander down her body. She moved the grocery bag to cover herself. Taking David’s hand, she stepped into the street, intending to walk around the back of the car. As they reached the rear bumper, George gunned the motor. It revved up so loudly she almost dropped the groceries and David’s face turned chalk-white. Anna Mae quickly pulled David around the car. When they reached the curb, George flipped the gears into reverse and shot backward into the street. 

Without looking back, Anna Mae and David fled up the street. At the bottom of Vickroy Street hill, they stopped to listen to the loud muffler fading into the distance. Determined not to let the incident ruin the day, she joked, “Maybe he’ll drive off a bridge.”

“And into the river,” David added.

“And the Loch Ness Monster will eat him up.”

“But not the car.”

“Right!” She walked a few more steps. “Gus, (step) Grissom…”

David joined her. “Walter, (step) Shirra, (step) Junior! (step) Allan…”