The Dead And The Gone (22 page)

He, Kevin, and Julie had stood on line for food for five hours that morning, the temperature well below freezing and a harsh wind blowing the entire time. Kevin had walked Julie to Holy Angels while Alex took the bags, none of which had very much food, up the twelve flights, because the electricity wasn’t running. Then he’d taken stuff to Harvey’s for barter, and even though he hadn’t gotten much in return, he still had to carry it up the twelve flights again. Bri had spent the morning in the apartment without being able to use the electric heater or the electric blanket, stuck in the sleeping bag. He had opened a can of mixed vegetables for her, and then spoon-fed her, so she wouldn’t have to take out her arms. Father Mulrooney had given up a full eyebrow look when Alex finally made it to school, and Alex had been worried until lunchtime that he’d be told he wouldn’t be allowed in the cafeteria. He had an eyestrain headache from trying to read in dim natural light, and even though the school kept its thermostat at fifty-five degrees, he hadn’t been able to shake off the morning chill.

He had a date to go body shopping with Kevin the next morning, but he wasn’t optimistic about what they’d get for it, since there was no market for watches anymore, and even shoes and coats weren’t bringing in what they used to. But going gave him an excuse to leave the apartment, so he wouldn’t have to spend the whole day stuck with his sisters and nothing to do.

Bri still insisted on going to Mass on Sunday, which meant an extra half hour to get down the twelve flights of stairs and then to St. Margaret’s and an extra half hour to get back home. They had to stop at every floor for her to catch her breath, and she needed to use her inhaler twice, sometimes three times, before the climb was finished. But that was the only time Bri escaped from the apartment, and Alex couldn’t find it in his heart to forbid her. It didn’t help that Julie wanted to race ahead, and Alex wouldn’t let her. As far as he could tell, they had the building all to themselves, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t lurking in the stairwell, and he couldn’t risk letting Julie go up by herself. So Julie would spend Sunday afternoon sulking and Bri would spend it gasping and claiming she was fine, and Alex would have to act sympathetic, when all he wanted to do was run.

He could tell right away that the weekend he was already-dreading was about to get worse. Julie had that look in her eyes. She hadn’t looked that upset since the garden had died.

“What is it?” he asked. “They fed you, didn’t they?”

Julie nodded.

Alex prayed for patience and understanding. On Monday, he’d find out who the patron saint of patience was. He could use the extra help.

“I can see something’s upsetting you,” he said. “Want to tell me about it?”

“You won’t like it,” Julie said.

Alex snorted.

“Don’t!” Julie cried. “You always act like everything’s my fault. Bri does everything right and I do everything wrong and I hate it!”

“What?” he shouted. “I said I could see you were upset, and all of a sudden I’m the villain?”

“If you’re going to shout at me, I won’t tell you,” Julie said.

“Fine,” Alex said. “Don’t. See if I care.”

“I wish Carlos was here,” she said.

“Me too,” Alex said. And Mami and Papi and Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lorraine, and all the other grown-ups who knew how to handle Julie.

He looked down at his little sister. She’d stood outside with him and Kevin for five hours, not complaining, not whining, hardly saying a word. Something bad had happened at school and Alex, in his bad mood, hadn’t given her the chance to tell him in her own way.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he couldn’t have even explained what he was sorry about. The list would have been too long. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I wish I was Bri,” Julie said. “I mean, I wish I was the one who went away and I was the one who’s sick, because I know you like her more than you like me and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me when you’d rather do stuff with her.”

Alex knew
⁷
he was supposed to assure Julie that he liked her every bit as much as he liked Bri, but there was no point. Julie knew better. He’d spent thirteen years making sure she did.

“We’re stuck with each other,” he said. “You wish I was Carlos, after all.”

“Holy Angels is closing,” Julie blurted.

Alex stood absolutely still, closed his eyes, and prayed he hadn’t heard Julie correctly.

“Today was the last day,” she said.

“How long have you known?” he asked, as though that would make a difference.

“They told us Monday,” Julie replied. “I’ve been scared to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Alex said. “If you’d given me some notice, I could have spoken to Sister Rita. Did they tell you where you’d be going now?”

“I’m sorry,” Julie said. “It’s not my fault. Really.”

“Just tell me,” Alex said. He hoped it was someplace where they’d feed her lunch.

“Vincent de Paul,” she whispered.

“Oh God,” Alex said, at the thought of losing his last sanctuary.

“I don’t have to go to school,” Julie said. “Bri doesn’t. I can stay home with her if you want. We can study together. I can skip lunch. It’s okay, really.”

Alex thought back to that last night when he’d been slicing pizza at Joey’s, worrying about the editorship of the paper, dreaming of a full scholarship to Georgetown. To think he was discontented because he was only class vice president. Had he ever been that young, that stupid?

“It’ll be fine,” he said to his sister, because she deserved to hear it. “It’ll be easier. I won’t have to drop you off at Holy Angels and pick you up. And you’ll like it at Vincent de Paul”. Will the sisters be coming along, or will you be taking classes with the boys?”

“Some of the sisters will be coming,” Julie said. “There aren’t that many girls left at Holy Angels, so some of the sisters are being sent away. But we’ll have our own classes. You won’t see me, Alex. I promise. We’re not going to eat in the cafeteria. We’ll have lunch in our classroom. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Alex said. “I know how much you like Holy Angels.” He thought about how carefully the secret had been kept. Not even Kevin seemed to know girls were coming to Vincent de Paul.

“It doesn’t matter,” Julie said. “Nothing matters anymore.”

Alex didn’t have the strength to disagree.

Monday, October 17

Before Mass Father Mulrooney gave the boys a stern lecture about how the Holy Angels students were their guests and any contact between them should be brief and civil. The Holy Angels students would use the third floor of the school, while all Vincent de Paul classes would be held on the first and second. Each school would have separate hours for chapel and library, with the Vincent de Paul morning Mass remaining mandatory.

Alex hadn’t gone to school with girls since seventh grade, when he’d begun at Vincent de Paul. Not having girls around helped him focus on what was truly important to him: his grades, his activities, his future. Sure, he would have liked having a girlfriend, and he knew a lot of the boys at Vincent de Paul dated girls from Holy Angels or even from the public high schools. But they had their lives set out for them. They could afford the distraction.

Last spring, he remembered, Chris had asked if he wanted to double-date for the Holy Angels junior prom. Chris’s girlfriend had a friend who’d just broken up with her boyfriend and needed a last-minute replacement.

Alex worked Saturday nights at Joey’s. Rather than explaining that to Chris, he said instead that his father was away in Puerto Rico for a family funeral, and they weren’t sure when he’d be coming back. It was a ridiculous excuse, but Chris accepted it and said how sorry he was.

The prom must have been scheduled for the Saturday Papi didn’t come home. Most likely it had been canceled. All the longing and resentment Alex had felt had been for no reason whatsoever.

Friday, October 28

Alex was on his way to the cafeteria when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Tony.

“I thought you could use this,” Tony said, handing him a small brown paper bag.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

“Cartridges for Bri’s inhaler,” Tony said. “I had a couple of extra ones, so I figured I’d pass them along to you.”

“Thanks,” Alex said.

“No problem,” Tony said, which Alex suspected was also a lie, but was too grateful to question.

Monday, October 31

“Did you give Tony my thank-you note?” Bri asked after Alex and Julie got home from school.

“I sure did,” Alex lied. Tony was nowhere to be seen. Alex had taken a rough count at Mass, and another dozen Vincent de Paul students were gone. Maybe some of them would show up later in the week, but he doubted it. Gone was gone. But he’d decided against telling Bri, since it had seemed so important to her to write Tony a thank-you note. It was better to lie than to upset her.

“Tomorrow’s All Saints’ Day,” he said. “I thought the three of us might go to Mass at St. Margaret’s.”

“Oh, I’d like that,” Bri said. “Thank you, Alex.”

“Could I skip it?” Julie asked. “You could take me to school first and then go to Mass.”

“It’s a holy day of obligation,” Bri said. “We always went to Mass with Mami on All Saints’ Day.”

“I know,” Julie said. “But I want to go to Mass on Wednesday for All Souls’ Day. I want to pray for Mami and Papi’s souls.”

“But they’re not dead,” Bri said.

“You’re crazy,” Julie said. “Isn’t she, Alex? Mami and Papi have been dead since that first day. Everyone knows it. You know it, too, Bri. You just won’t admit it.”

“How can you say that?” Bri cried. “I spoke to Papi. He’s stuck in Puerto Rico. And Mami must be alive because she wasn’t at Yankee Stadium when Alex looked. Isn’t that right, Alex.”

“Just because you don’t want to believe they’re dead doesn’t mean they aren’t,” Julie said. “It’s sinful not to pray for their souls, isn’t it, Alex.”

“What’s sinful is to act like your parents are dead when they’re alive,” Bri said. “Sometimes I think you like it better this way. You get away with more. You should have spent the summer like I did, Julie, and then you’d appreciate home and family.”

“You should spend every day like I do!” Julie shouted. “Stuck with a crazy sister who prays all the time instead of doing any work.”

“I do work,” Bri said. “I do schoolwork when you’re at school.”

“Yeah, right,” Julie said. “I do all the cooking and cleaning.”

“I thought you liked doing the cooking,” Alex said. “Besides, how much work is it? All our food comes out of cans.”

“I wouldn’t mind the cooking if I didn’t have to do the dishes, too,” Julie said. “And the dusting, which you make me do every day, and sweeping and mopping the floor.”

“The place has to be really clean for Bri’s asthma,” Alex said. “And I don’t want her standing in the cold kitchen doing the dishes, either. It’s bad for her.”

“So I do everything!” Julie said. “It’s not fair!”

“Oh, grow up,” Alex said.

“I hate you!” Julie shouted, storming into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“I can do the dishes,” Bri said. “Really I can.”

“No,” Alex said. “Julie’ll get over it.”

“What about Mass tomorrow?” Bri asked.

“It’s All Saints’ Day,” Alex said. “Of course we’ll go.” And the day after, he told himself, he and Julie would go for All Souls’ Day to pray for Papi and Mami. And he’d take over the dusting and the mopping.

Wednesday, November 9

Bri was waiting for them when Alex and Julie got home from school. “Today’s Papi’s birthday,” she said. “I thought we’d do something special to celebrate.”

Alex and Julie exchanged glances. “Like what?” Alex asked.

Bri smiled. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Just something. Maybe go to St. Margaret’s and light a candle for him.”

“Alex and I did that on the way home,” Julie said.

“Did you pray for his safe return?” Bri asked. “I worry a lot that he’s trying to get back to New York by boat. That’s got to be really dangerous with the tides and the tsunamis.”

“I’m sure Papi isn’t doing anything dangerous,” Alex said. “Let’s not worry about him today, okay? That’s not how he’d want us to celebrate his birthday.”

“I checked our supplies at lunchtime,” Bri said. “Do you know we still have a can of clam sauce? And half a box of spaghetti. That would make a wonderful supper.”

“I was saving that for Thanksgiving,” Julie said. Alex glared at her. “You’re right, Bri. Let’s have that for supper tonight. For Papi.”

“St. Margaret’s is going to have a Thanksgiving dinner,” Alex said. “They just put up the notice. We’ll go to that.”

“That would be wonderful,” Bri said. “Remember turkey and stuffing?”

“Pumpkin pie,” Julie said. “Candied sweet potatoes. We’ll probably get rice and beans.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bri replied. “We have so much to be thankful for. We have this wonderful apartment, and we have food and the church and each other.”

“Yeah,” Julie said. “But I’d still like some pumpkin pie.”

“Remember a couple of years ago when Mami bought Papi all those lottery tickets,” Alex said, because he didn’t want to think about turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie and all the things they didn’t have to be thankful about.

“One of them won,” Bri said. “Fifty dollars.”

“And he took us all to the movies,” Julie said. “Even Carlos came along.”

“Do you think they’re still making movies?” Bri asked.

“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “Not with all the flooding on the West Coast.”

Julie looked uncomfortable. “I have some lottery tickets,” she said.

“Where did you get lottery tickets?” Alex asked.

“From the bodega,” Julie admitted. “Remember when you and Uncle Jimmy left me there alone? I filled up bags of food for us, but I also tore off some instant tickets and put them in my pocket.”

“Julie,” Bri said. “That’s stealing.”

“I’ve confessed and done penance,” Julie said. “And even if I wanted to, I can’t return the tickets to Uncle Jimmy.”