A Tinfoil Sky (6 page)

“I suspect,” the judge replied as he lifted his glasses off his nose and looked directly at the lawyer, “that twelve-year-old Melody Tulley is much older, and perhaps wiser, than her years, and is quite capable of speaking for herself.”

Much older, perhaps wiser
, Mel thought, letting those words dance around in her head. She took a deep breath and smiled – just a tiny smile – although a much larger smile sat beneath the surface, and then she rose and walked to the front of the court.

“Miss Tulley, I’m fairly certain that I have seen you on the corner of Olive and Fifth on a number of occasions. Is that so?”

From nowhere, Mel felt the heat growing within her. She nodded.

“Your Honor,” Cecily’s lawyer piped in again. “Can you be sure that it was Miss Tulley you saw on Olive and Fifth?”

The judge did not answer. Instead he turned to Mel. “Miss Tulley?”

Mel took in a quiet breath. Her emotions mixed around inside her. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“And could you tell me what you were doing?”

“Singing, Your Honor.”

“Yes, and …”

Mel could feel the hair on her head melting down into her scalp, warm and itchy and uncomfortable. She wanted to run, but couldn’t have if she tried. She began to wonder if the shoplifting charge against Cecily was only part of the reason they were in court. Perhaps there had been some truth in the nightmare Mel had that first night in the Pinto. She hoped that Cecily would turn and look in her direction, offering a signal that everything was going to be okay.

The tingling patch of skin behind her knee began to sweat, and the sweat began to drip down the back of her calf. She wanted to – more than anything in that moment – reach down and wipe the salty snake off the back of her leg. But she didn’t. And there was that tug on her head, not a real tug, but the kind of tug that makes you want to check your back, to check and be sure that the eyes you feel are on you are not actually on you. But Mel stood still, and now she was so uncomfortable she was unable to choke out a single word.

“Miss Tulley,” the judge said, and then paused. “You are not in trouble. I only want to have a better picture of your life. It’s important. You, Miss. You are important.”

Mel noticed the judge’s emphasis on
you
.

“I was singing for money,” Mel began. “People walked by and they’d put money on my scarf. I always
thanked them, Your Honor.”

“That you did,” the judge said. “You may be seated.”

Mel wanted to say that Cecily
had
looked for a job, that she
had
looked everywhere. And that it was Mel’s own idea to stand on the corner and sing this time,
not
Cecily’s. But her mouth went dry, and an ever-expanding lump growing in her throat was keeping her from speaking. She thought back to times that she and Cecily were told by strangers “Pack it up! Move along!” They’d say “Get a job!” They’d ask, in a telling sort of way “Why aren’t you in school?”

As Mel turned to walk back to her seat, she glanced at Cecily. Cecily closed and opened her eyes as she bit her lip. Mel knew the look; Cecily was sorry. Mel did a quick scan of the back of the courtroom. She spotted Rose again. Rose smiled and nodded. As Mel sat down beside Gladys, her thoughts went back to the words the judge left with her. “You, Miss. You are important.” And the words landed on her here and there, just like the flaked sun falling through the paned glass.

The judge scanned the papers in front of him for a moment. Everyone sat, all waiting silently as the judge asked Cecily to stand. Then – even though she heard his words – Mel tried hard not to hear the judge’s harsh comments for her mother. The judge spoke about Cecily being
a poor role model to her daughter, the history of shoplifting. He spoke about the drug and alcohol abuse and about the risks of Mel and Cecily’s lifestyle, and then he said that Cecily would be in jail for thirty days. Ms. Jeffery had mentioned in the car ride over to the courthouse that there was a chance that the sentence would be less than thirty days, or even – because of Mel – none at all. But she’d also prepared Mel for the worst, even if she hadn’t said “worst-case scenario.” But now, Cecily would be going to jail, and Mel would be staying on with Gladys.

“Ms. Tulley,” the judge said, this time directly to Cecily, “are there any plans to enroll Melody in school in Riverview this September?”

Cecily didn’t really answer the question. Instead she said, “Mel’s been going to school.”

For the most part, that was true. Mel had been in seventh grade for much of the year. It was only when they moved in with Craig, whose apartment was an hour’s bus ride from school, that Cecily had decided it would be easier to just start at a new school in September – after all, there were only a couple of months left in the year.

“Yes, Ms. Tulley,” the judge said to Cecily, “I don’t doubt you have been schooling your daughter. But the education she receives “standing six” for you while you shoplift, or the education that your daughter is receiving
on the corner of Olive and Fifth, is not the education she needs to get into college.”

College
. Mel moved the word around and around the inner workings of her mind. She’d never thought about college.

“So, Ms. Tulley, have you given any thought as to who will be able to care for your daughter in your absence?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Cecily said, tapping the table in front of her. “My mother, Gladys Tulley.”

“Is she present in the court?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Gladys Tulley, will you come forward, please?” The judge’s eyes passed quickly from Cecily to Gladys.

It was as though Mel was awakened from a deep sleep when her grandmother shuffled past her. Startled, Mel started to rise.

“Just sit
still
, child,” Gladys grunted under her breath. Mel sat, and the heavy scent of mothballs, oozing from Gladys’s suit, draped itself across her lap as Gladys pushed past Mel’s knees.

Mel watched as Gladys pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin. She noticed how Gladys’s thick, long tweed skirt was slightly twisted; the zipper at the waist and the open pleat at the hem were off to one side. This made the skirt, which was wide enough to accommodate
someone with much broader hips, bulge and fold. Gladys passed through the same flakes of sun as she walked to the same place Mel had stood. They reflected light in Gladys’s graying hair, then tumbled down her coat and skirt, and past the nylon stockings, which were pooling in rings just above Gladys’s narrow ankles. The bits of light fell past her black shoes and onto the floor. Gladys then removed a white handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiped the sweat that dripped from her hairline and pasted her unruly gray hair to her forehead. Mel was lost in watching.

“Miss,” the woman next to Mel whispered. “They’re talking to you.”

Mel immediately stood. “Yes, Your Honor?”

“Miss Tulley, do you understand that your grandmother will be taking care of you for the duration of your mother’s incarceration, and if need be for the duration of her probation? Your grandmother will provide you with a safe place to live, sufficient food, and proper supervision. At the end of that time, if your mother is able to secure proper housing, I expect you’ll be able to live with her.”

Mel nodded. It was going to be the worst-case scenario.

“Miss Tulley, are you willing to live with your grandmother?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“One final question,” the judge said as he looked directly at Mel. “Is there anything you need?”

Need
. For as long as Mel could remember, there had always been things she needed. But it didn’t seem to her that these were the things the judge was asking about. Perhaps it was the words
important
and
college
, dancing around in her head, that led Mel to think of the place most important to her – the library. What came to mind were the other people she would see there – kids her age and younger, all thumbing through their choices of books from tens of thousands if not a million different titles. Their parents suggesting books, and the young girls brushing aside their mothers’ suggestions. Then watching them all do what had become impossible for her. They would take their selections up to the circulation desk, sign them out, and take them home. After the other kids were gone, Mel would walk up and down the aisles of books, softly suggesting the ones they left behind. “How about this one?” Or she would whisper, “This looks like a good book.” She thought about the teenage boy she saw regularly at the library – Sleeping Beauty. Like her, he didn’t ever seem to check out any books.

“Miss,” the judge repeated. “Is there anything you need?”

Mel looked directly at the judge’s bench. “A library card, Your Honor.” It was a ticket into a world she had longed for, a ticket back to the best times she could remember.

“A library card?” The judge smiled as he repeated the words.

Gladys said, “Oh, for crying out …” And she heard the collective chuckle of the other people in the courtroom. Once again, the dry patch of skin on her calf began to sting, but not so much. Mostly, she felt the excited pounding of her heart in her chest.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Mel said, “a library card.”

“I believe I just might be able to help you with that. Should I assume that you know the location of the downtown library?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mel’s back began to tingle.

The judge then listened to Cecily’s lawyer as he addressed the bench. “But who’ll be responsible for the books when they go missing, Your Honor? I certainly hope it will not be my client, who will be in incarcerated, or my client’s mother, who lives on a very modest income.”

“I’m sure I can count on Miss Tulley to return the books on time. Yes, Miss Tulley?” The judge looked back to Mel and gave a slight smile.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Then we will adjourn.”

Cecily’s lawyer stood, then Cecily, and the two of them started to walk quickly from the courtroom. Mel watched as they came closer; she waited for Cecily to look at her, but Gladys stood up just as Cecily passed by, blocking Mel’s view. Mel began to fear that they would take Cecily away before she had a chance to say good-bye. She tried to squeeze past Gladys. Gladys immediately wrapped her gnarled fingers tightly around Mel’s slender arm and held her there until most of the people in the courthouse had left. Then Gladys briskly led Mel toward the exit, and it seemed as though they were going to march directly past Cecily, who was standing just outside the door, smoking.

“I’d say I’ve just about heard it all … a library card … my lord …” Gladys didn’t quite finish her sentence, interrupted perhaps by the furrowed brow of the lawyer facing them.

Mel stopped and resisted Gladys’s pull to keep moving when they reached the door. She lifted her free hand, reached across her body, and was about to remove Gladys’s grip from her arm. But before she could, Gladys let go of her.

“I’m so sorry, Mel. I never meant for this to happen,” Cecily said as she leaned into Mel, blowing the exhaled
cigarette smoke over Mel’s head and shoulders. It was their little ritual, Cecily’s way of surrounding her with a white light of protection. Mel didn’t like the smell of smoke, but it did, in its own weird way, make her feel safe.

“I’ll write to you,” Cecily whispered.

Mel nodded.

“And we’ll find a place just as soon as I’m back,” Cecily added. She said it as though she was going on a trip somewhere. “I promise.”

Mel bit hard on her top lip; Cecily often made promises. Silent tears flowed full force from Mel’s eyes, spilling down her cheeks into the small crevasses of her mouth. Cecily’s lawyer reached into his coat and gave Mel a piece of tissue, and then he fumbled around in his pocket, patting it as though he was looking for something.

Ms. Jeffery came by. “It might not be the full thirty days,” she told Gladys. “Good behavior and all …”

“The bus will be here any minute,” Gladys said as though she hadn’t heard Ms. Jeffery’s comment.

Cecily’s lawyer took a step toward Gladys and whispered that it would be good to give Cecily a few more minutes with Mel.

Cecily wrapped her arm around Mel’s shoulders, squeezing her tighter than Mel could ever remember being hugged. As she kissed the top of Mel’s head, Mel leaned
into her. Cecily finally released the squeeze, letting her hand gently slide down off Mel’s shoulder, down her arm, past her elbow and wrist, and finally to Mel’s fingertips. Cecily glanced in the direction of the lawyer as though she was making sure that he wasn’t watching, and she discretely slid two bills, rolled like little cigarillos, into Mel’s hand. Mel knew what was happening; she could feel the smooth bills as they unfurled into her fingertips. Cecily glanced back in the direction of her lawyer.

“Quick!” Cecily whispered.

Mel tucked her hand into her pocket, knowing that wherever the money had come from, it wasn’t rightfully Cecily’s – nor was it rightfully hers.

“It’s time for them to go,” Cecily’s lawyer said, turning from Gladys toward Cecily.

“White light,” Cecily said as once again she blew smoke over Mel’s head and shoulders.

“You too,” Mel answered as she turned to follow Gladys.

The first time she looked back, Cecily was in the same place, watching her leave. The second time, Cecily’s head was down and her lawyer was still going through his jacket pocket. The third time, Cecily was gone.

Mel’s thoughts went back to last December and the day at Sunset Food Market. Cecily was caught stealing a
bag of mini Swiss cheese rounds, three cans of smoked oysters, and a half-dozen mandarin oranges. When the young store clerk left the office to get the manager, Mel couldn’t believe what she was seeing when Cecily snapped up one of the cans of oysters from the desk and quickly slipped it into Mel’s pocket.

When the store manager had come into the office, he had said without even looking at Cecily that
they
were all the same, all looking for a free ride. If Mel’s pocket hadn’t been home to a can of stolen oysters, she might have defended herself. But instead, it took all she had not to set it back on the table and run.