Eighty and Out (4 page)

The next morning I was about to head outside when my Dad stopped me. “You’ll have to play indoors today.”

“How come?”

“Because I don’t know what’s going on yet. I want to make sure it’s safe.”

He took the trash to the curb while I watched from the window. He talked to the old man across the street, and the man nodded and pointed toward the neighbor’s house. I craned my neck to try and see it, but a tree blocked my view. I hurried to my bedroom and looked out that window instead. All that was left of the neighbor’s house were a few charred remains.

The front door opened and I rushed back to find out what Dad had learned. Mom was waiting too, looking just as interested.

“The fire trucks didn’t come until it was too late. The house is destroyed.” He exchanged a look with Mom.

“Any word on Mr. and Mrs. Williams?” Mom asked.

“No. No one’s seen them.”

“I saw them escape in their pajamas,” I said. “They have to be around somewhere.” I turned to my dad. “Where do you think they are?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he answered.

Since Jeannie and I had to stay inside for the rest of the day, I spent a large part of it thinking about the old neighbors – Mom had referred to them as the Williams family. I hadn’t known their name until then. I hoped they were doing okay. Maybe they were staying with friends or relatives. But why would anyone throw a bomb at their house? Who could be so mean? The whole situation made me feel confused and angry.

A week passed and there was still no news about the Williams family. Life just went on as if nothing had happened. As if their absence was insignificant. I wished I could forget them too, but I couldn’t. I simply had to find out where they were.

Bernice came over the very same day she had returned home from New Mexico. When I told her about the fire, she was intrigued.

“How could they just vanish into thin air?” she asked.

I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been thinking.”

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go to my house. Maybe my mom knows something.”

I grabbed her uncle’s book before we left, and when we walked in, Bernice’s mom greeted me with a big smile.

“Louise, long time no see,” she said.

I lifted up the novel. “I’ve been busy reading. Thanks for lending it to me.” I handed it to her.

She looked like she was about to say something, but Bernice cut her off. “Hey, Mom, did you hear anything about a fire over by Lou’s house?”

Her cheerful expression quickly vanished. “Yes,” she said. “The colored family’s home.”

“Lou says she saw what happened, or at least saw the husband and wife run out of the house, but no one seems to know what happened to them afterward.”

Bernice’s mom reached for her pack of cigarettes, took one out, and lit it. After she took a puff, she sat on the sofa and stared off into the distance. Bernice and I sat down opposite her, waiting.

“Someone set their house on fire to send them a message,” she said, finally. “Someone wanted them to go back to where they came from.”

“Really? Where’d you hear that?” Bernice asked.

“A friend of a friend.” Bernice’s mom was being intentionally vague. It was obvious she didn’t trust us enough to spill the details. Still, she had shared more than my parents, assuming they even knew any of this information. “I guess the husband is an editor at
The Chicago Daily Defender.
A newspaper for blacks,” she added after taking another drag off her cigarette. “Some people didn’t like what they were writing about and wanted to make an example of them.”

“Holy shit!” Bernice exclaimed.

“Bernice! Watch your mouth!” her mom scolded.

Bernice’s eyes widened, realizing her error. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Bernice had an unusual relationship with her mom, who often treated her like an adult, except when she acted too grown up and had to be put in her place.

“But does anyone know what happened to them?” I asked, trying to take the focus off Bernice’s blunder.

“I’m assuming they moved away, but I don’t know for sure.” She put out her cigarette in the ashtray, then stood up. “Your father will be home soon. I better get dinner started,” she said, walking away.

Once she was gone, Bernice shook her head and laughed. “I can’t believe I just swore in front of my mother.”

“You’re lucky I was here or you’d be in deep shit.”

Bernice smirked. “So tell me about your vacation,” I said. There was no point dwelling on the negative when there were other things to discuss.

“It was a blast. My aunt took us hiking, horseback riding. Oh, and she bought me this bracelet.” She thrust her arm out so I could see it. “It’s sterling silver with turquoise. Made by Navajo Indians.”

It looked more like a cuff than a bracelet, but it was beautiful, with teardrop-shaped turquoise stones that fanned out in a circle, like the sun.

“It’s pretty,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bernice smiled. “I know. I love it so much I’ve worn it every day.”

“You said your aunt took
us
hiking. Who’s us?”

“Me and my aunt’s neighbor, Juan. He’s the son of the Mexican family that owns the ranch next door. They’re a large family, but Juan’s my age, so at least I had someone to hang out with.” Bernice wore a dopey smile.

“What are you smiling about?” I asked.

“He’s got an older brother, Alejandro.” She swooned. “He’s the most.”

“Oh my God. You like someone. I can’t believe it. Does he like you?”

She frowned. “No. He doesn’t know I exist.”

“I find that hard to believe. Look at you. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. How could he not notice?”

“Because I’m a kid.” She pouted.

“How old is he?”

“Sixteen.” She sat up straight and folded her arms across her chest. “The whole time he was off with his friends, doing his own thing. I tried to get him to come with us a few times, but I guess he didn’t want to spend time with a twelve-year-old girl.”

Bernice looked sad. I didn’t like seeing her that way. “But you had fun hanging out with Juan, right?”

“Sure. He’s nice. Like the brother I never had, but I wanted to be near Alejandro.”

It was strange hearing Bernice talk about a boy. She had always been focused on school. Now she sounded like a normal person, albeit a heartbroken one.

“Maybe you’ll get to see him again. When we go back,” I said.

Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re right. There’s always next time. And Juan is dying to meet you, too.”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause you’re my best friend, and I told him all about you. He thinks you’re cool.”

Me, cool? I liked the sound of that. “What do you think Juan’s doing right now?” I asked.

“Probably hiking or horseback riding. Or taking a nap.”

I wished I could do those kinds of things on my summer breaks.

I was feeling a little sleepy myself now that I thought of it. “Speaking of naps…” I yawned.

“Good idea.” Bernice tossed me a throw pillow, and I got comfy on the chair while she stretched out on the sofa. After we closed our eyes, she said, “I told Juan all about Chicago. He hopes to come here someday, too.”

“Why would he want to come here?”

“Because he’s never been to a big city before. And even though we think it’s dull, he thinks it’s exciting.”

I smiled as I drifted off to sleep, thinking about how most people thought where everyone else lived was better.

Years passed and Juan never made it to Chicago to visit Bernice, and sadly, I never got to go to New Mexico. That one summer was Bernice’s only trip out west, and I missed the opportunity because I was too young. The next year, her aunt had been ill, and it wasn’t a good time. The year after that, there was some other reason. And anyway, now her parents were saving money for her to go to college.

I took a sip of my chocolate malt and tapped my fingers on the table as the jukebox began playing Chubby Checker’s
The Twist
.

“Why do you want to go to college?” I asked Bernice. A girl getting an advanced education was unheard of. Then again, Bernice was unique.

“Because my parents think I have a mind for business,” she replied, dipping her French fry into a pool of ketchup.

If anyone had a mind for business, it was Bernice. She’d recently started babysitting on the weekends and had been saving eighty percent of her earnings. I had asked her why “eighty percent,” and she said it was because she needed to amass as much as she could for school but wanted a little left over for fun.

All I wanted was to get married and have kids. I didn’t want to run a business but could see Bernice doing so.

“Which college are you going to?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t far away.

“Whichever one I can get into. Not every school lets women attend.” She took a sip of her soda and added, “My parents are looking into it.”

When we finished eating, Bernice had to run. Her mom had broken her arm so she was needed at home to help with chores. I was about to leave too when I overheard a conversation at the table behind me.

“Call her and ask her on a date,” a boy suggested.

“I don’t want to go out with her. She’s black,” another boy replied.

“It’s a joke,” a familiar voice added. “You’re not really going to take her out, just make her think you will and blow her off.”

They all laughed, like their idiotic idea was pure genius. I got up and turned to face them.

Frankie was sitting with a group of friends, one of whom I didn’t recognize.

“Do you guys have nothing better to do with your time than play childish games?” I asked.

“It’s just Sandy,” Frankie said. “Give it a rest, Lou.”

I’d grown tired of his continued mistreatment of Sandy and was disappointed in myself for not standing up for her more through the years. She and I could have been great friends if I hadn’t caved to peer pressure.

I pursed my lips. “I happen to think Sandy is a beautiful girl, and that you’d be
lucky
to get a date with her, considering your appearance.”

Frankie had gotten heavier, and my comment must’ve hit him where it hurt, because he stood up, seething with anger.

“Why don’t you buzz off? We weren’t talking to you anyway.”

The boy I didn’t know rose. I hadn’t paid him any attention at first because I was laser-focused on Frankie. He was attractive, with slicked-back brown hair and green eyes.

“Whoa,” he said. “How about we all calm down. Maybe the lady has a point.”

The expression on Frankie’s face was priceless. He looked like he’d just been slapped.

I smiled, and the boy stepped toward me.

“We were just messing around. We had no intention of calling your friend. Like you said, we’ve got better things to do.”

Defeated, Frankie tossed his napkin on the table and walked away. The boy kept his eyes locked on me.

“My name’s Jim,” he said. “And you are?”

“Louise,” I answered, softening my tone.

The remaining boys got up and wordlessly headed to the jukebox.

“Nice to meet you, Louise.” He looked shy all of a sudden, then sat back down in the booth. I had been planning on leaving, but instead sat opposite him.

“I just moved here from New York. Trying to make friends can be a challenge,” he said.

I nodded. “Well most of those guys are decent. It’s just Frankie. He’s been a jerk for as long as I can remember. He even pushed me down once.”

Jim’s jaw tensed. “A man should never hit a woman. How dare he?”

His reaction both surprised and comforted me. “We were just kids,” I added, trying to downplay the incident.

No guy had ever called me a lady or referred to me as a woman before. It made me feel so grown up.

“That’s no excuse,” he said, leaning back. “Do you like movies?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

“Do you want to go to a movie with me this weekend?”

I gave him an apprehensive look. Not because I didn’t want to go, but because I didn’t know if my parents would let me.

“It would be nice to spend time with someone who is the kind of friend I’m looking to make,” he said, looking so innocent it bordered on angelic.

“I’d have to ask my parents. If you’re going to be around here the same time tomorrow, I’ll let you know.”

Jim checked his watch. “I’ll be here.”

I got up to leave. “See you tomorrow, then. Nice meeting you.”

He rose and smiled. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said in a velvety voice.

On my way home, I grinned from ear to ear. Not only was the new boy cute, he made me feel special. And he put Frankie in his place, too.

When I walked in the door, anxious to tell Jeannie all about him, my face fell. Mom was on the sofa crying, and Dad had his arms around her, rubbing her back.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Mom looked up, her face puffy, her eyes red. “Aunt Violet died,” she sobbed, falling back into Dad’s arms.

I’d never seen my mom cry like that before. I wanted to hug her, to say the right words that would make her feel better, but instead I ran to my room.

Dad came in a little later. He looked drained. “You okay?” he asked in a soft voice as he sat next to me.

“I guess,” I replied. I wondered why I wasn’t sad over Aunt Violet’s death. We had been visiting her twice a month for years. Shouldn’t I be crying? What was wrong with me?

“Aunt Violet lived a long life,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “She was in a lot of pain, but she’s in a better place now.”

I nodded because he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. “I’ve never seen Mom so upset. She really loved her, huh?”

“More than you know.” Dad let out a deep sigh. “Violet was more like a mother to your mom than her own mother.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She was there for her a lot as a kid, through good times and bad, and as an adult, well, let’s just say Violet helped us out when we were in a jam once.”

I hadn’t realized Aunt Violet meant so much to my mom. I thought she just visited her to be nice, or out of obligation. Mom had told me about some the good times they shared, but she never admitted that she was closer to her than her own mom.

The thought of Mom hurting finally brought the stubborn tears. Dad gave me a hug. He didn’t say anything, just held me. When I stopped crying, he gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Your mom said she’d like to be alone tonight, so she’s going to sleep on the sofa. I’m going to bed early. I’m pooped,” he admitted.

“Good night,” I said. I was exhausted, too, and hadn’t even gone to check on Jeannie to see how she was doing. I guessed Dad had already seen her first and tucked her in before checking on me. It was the kind of night where everyone was hitting the hay early.

As I kicked off my shoes, my thoughts turned to Jim. He was really cute, and I liked how he talked to me. I smiled, remembering our conversation, then immediately felt guilty that I was thinking about a boy when a family member had just died. It seemed selfish and wrong.

I lay down, remembering how I used to dread visiting Aunt Violet. It had gotten better once I was older and we could talk about romance novels, but I always felt uncomfortable there.

My last thought before falling asleep was of the framed photograph hanging on the wall at the nursing home, the one with Aunt Violet wearing a blue sequined gown, looking like a movie star.

I decided that’s how I’d always remember her.

I woke in the middle of the night drenched in sweat from a recurring dream. I was at the neighbor’s house, trying to help Mr. and Mrs. Williams as flames licked at me from all angles. I searched the rooms one by one, but they were all empty. Realizing they had left, I tried to escape but couldn’t because the roof began collapsing on me.

I sat up and tried to catch my breath while wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. I never found out what happened to the neighbors that disappeared and rarely thought of them anymore.

Too bad they wouldn’t leave my dreams.