Don't Talk to Me About the War (18 page)
Read Don't Talk to Me About the War Online
Authors: David A. Adler
“You look upset,” she says. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I answer slowly. “Nothing is wrong.”
What could I say? I can’t tell her that when I heard Father Reilly’s voice, I thought the worst.
Mom says, “Milly brought a cake. We’re just about to go to the table and have some.”
“Yes,” Father Reilly says. “Please join us.”
Father Reilly helps Mom out of her chair. He holds her arm as we walk to the dining table. The cake is round and covered with gooey-looking chocolate icing in a swirly pattern. I get the plates and forks.
“Please,” Mom tells me, “boil some water for tea.”
“Let me cut the cake,” Father Reilly says, and takes the knife. I think he wants to be sure Mom doesn’t do it.
I watch as he cuts the first piece to see what’s inside. It’s a yellow layer cake with chocolate cream filling. Father Reilly gives me a large slice. It’s delicious.
I finally relax.
Imagine, a few minutes ago I thought Father Reilly was administering Last Rites to Mom and now I’m eating cake!
Later, at dinner, Mom talks on and on. She tells Dad about Father Reilly, what he said this afternoon and how nice it was of him to visit, and all I can think of is my horror at first hearing his voice.
Charles gave me good advice, not to worry about things before they happen. Over the next few weeks, Dad comes home lots of times and tells us about a building that has a vacancy, he thinks on the ground floor. Some are near where we live. Others aren’t. Two are a few miles away and if we moved to either of them, I’d have to change schools.
I could get excited about some, because I like the building, and upset about others, but I decide to just wait.
Meanwhile, Mom isn’t trapped. She goes downstairs, but only if either Dad or I can be with her. I stand next to Mom on the stairs, so if she begins to fall, I can catch her. Luckily, that doesn’t happen. When she feels weak, she just stops to rest.
We go for walks together to the park, sometimes even to the stores. But really, I do the shopping. Mom makes a list of what she needs and I get it.
Near the last day of school, as we’re leaving the lunchroom, I tell Roger, “My mom is sick. That’s why I can’t always play stickball.”
“Really sick?”
I nod. “She has a disease, multiple sclerosis.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
We’re standing in the hall now. Kids are rushing past us, and Roger is quiet. Then, just as I’m about to go to my class he says, “In the summer, whenever you want to play, just call me. I’ll get a game together.”
I thank Roger and go off to Miss Heller’s class.
School finally ends, and I’m glad. I’ve had enough of sitting and pretending to listen to my teachers, especially when I have other things, more important things on my mind.
On the first Monday of school break, Mom asks me to go out and get a few rolls. I’m happy to go, not for the rolls, but to look in at Goldman’s. I want to see if Beth is there. Well, she’s at her regular table with lots of newspapers. Mr. Simmons is there, too.
“Hi, Beth.”
“Hi, Tommy. Didn’t anyone tell you? School is out.”
I look at the headlines on her newspapers. CIG AND BEER TAX STARTS TODAY, GERMAN SOLDIERS ON BRITISH SOIL, and FRENCH WAR LOSSES, 1.5 MILLION MEN!
The war is not going well. France fell. The Germans now occupy Paris.
“When the French surrendered,” Mr. Simmons says, “they had only enough ammunition for three more days of fighting.”
“So now it’s up to Churchill and his army,” I say.
“And us,” Mr. Simmons tells me. “We’ll have to help the English.”
“I’m going to the bakery,” I tell Beth, “to get some kaiser rolls.”
“Well, I’ll be here awhile. I have lots to read and no hurry to finish.”
That’s good, I think. I really want to talk to Beth, to sit with her, but not with Mr. Simmons. By the time I get back, he should be gone.
There’s a line at the bakery. Lots of people are buying bread, rolls, and bag lunches, but I feel like Beth. I’m in no hurry.
Goldman’s is a bit emptier when I get back. The seats by the counter are not all taken. There are two empty tables, and Mr. Simmons is gone. I sit across from Beth.
“I spoke to Sarah,” Beth says. “She heard about her aunt. So far she’s safe, and she’s trying to get out of Vienna.”
“They got a letter?”
“Yes, from a friend, a woman who got out. She sent a letter from Turkey. They don’t know where that woman is now, and they don’t know anything more about her aunt, just that she’s trying to get out.”
“What about her uncle?”
Beth just shakes her head.
We’re quiet for a minute or two. Then Beth asks about Mom, and I tell her something I’ve been thinking for a while.
“She seems more like my grandmother now, like an old woman who needs people, who needs me, to take care of her.”
Beth says, “I felt the same way with my mom.”
We sit there for a while, talk, and then go to the park. I really like being with her. And this summer I’m with her a lot.
Now that school is out, I do the family grocery shopping, and I do it with Beth. She shops for produce—fruits and vegetables—on Tuesdays and Fridays, and groceries on Mondays and Thursdays, so that’s my schedule, too. I enjoy it, not the shopping part, the Beth part.
We plan to go to at least one game together, a Dodgers game at Ebbets Field. And I’m sure we will. If Beth sets her mind to do something, she usually does it.
Oh, and Pee Wee Reese, he was out for three weeks, and that first game back, he got a single, double, and triple, and the Dodgers won 10-8. And guess who pitched that day for the Dodgers—Fat Freddy Fitzsimmons.
The first week of July, George leaves for the navy. Charles knew he would, but the day he goes off is hard, so I tell him to meet me the next day at Goldman’s. And as we make ice cream sundaes Charles tells me about his aunt Sylvia.
“She told George to write lots of letters home and told Mom to save them. She said when he gets back the letters will be like his diary. She even gave Mom a shoe box covered with gift wrap, to keep them in.”
If he’s going to write letters and save them, then paper and envelopes was a good gift.
“Aunt Sylvia came and brought cookies for George, and do you know what she said? She told George this was his chance to see the world and for the world to see him.”
I tell Charles, “I never thought of it that way, that while I’m looking at the world, it’s looking at me.”
“Yes, Aunt Sylvia says lots of deep-thinking things like that.”
“Well, my favorite is her underwear philosophy, that you can never have too much.”
Charles laughs.
It’s already July thirtieth, a Tuesday. Dad comes home and tells us he found a great apartment. “I didn’t sign a lease. I won’t until both of you see it.”
The next morning we take a cab past Goldman’s and the school, to an old brick building with some grass, but mostly weeds, in front.
“Before we go in,” Dad says, “take a look at the block.”
I look. It’s not real nice. There’s a building just like this one next door and then a few small stores.
“There’s a fruit store,” Dad says, and points, “and a small grocery, and my work is just five blocks away. I can come home for lunch.”
I guess that’s good.
“And do you know what? Tommy won’t have to change schools.”
That’s
real
good!
real
good!
We walk into the lobby. It’s big, with a high ceiling, a few chairs, and an old but comfortable-looking couch.
Dad says, “I’ll be right back. I’ll get the super and he’ll show you the apartment.”
“The lobby is nice,” Mom says, “and with the stores so nearby, I can do some of the shopping.”
Dad comes back with a short, old man. He’s mostly bald, and it’s the middle of the summer and pretty hot, but still, he’s wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt.
“Hello,” the man says, and holds out his hand for Mom. “I’m Frank.”
Mom shakes his hand.
“Come, I’ll show you the apartment.”
We follow Frank down a hall just off the lobby to apartment 1C. He unlocks the door and we go in.
“It has a nice big kitchen,” Frank says. “It’s what you call an eat-in kitchen because it’s big enough for a small table and some chairs.”
“I can sit there and prepare dinner,” Mom says.
There’s a small dining area, a large parlor, and a good-sized bedroom.
“Look here,” Frank says, and takes us to the two large windows in the parlor. “It’s a back apartment, so it’s quiet. And it has four large closets.”
“I like it,” Mom says.
I walk through the apartment again.
“Hey,” I ask Dad, “where’s my room?”
“I know. It has just one bedroom, but it’s the best I could find. I thought I’d put up a curtain closing off the dining area. That could be your room.”
I’ll be sleeping in the dining room, right between the kitchen and the parlor. In the afternoon, when Mom listens to Helen Trent, I’ll have to listen, too. I could go to my room, but really, I’ll just be behind a curtain.
“If you don’t like it,” Dad says, “I won’t take it.”
Mom seems so happy with it. I look at the dining area again. It’s bigger than my old bedroom.
“It’s okay,” I tell Dad.
What else could I say?
Dad and Mom go into Frank’s apartment to sign some papers. I wait in the lobby for them and think about what this move will mean. It’s not near Goldman’s, so next year, I won’t meet Beth there and walk with her to school. I won’t meet Sarah at the corner. Maybe I could walk to school with Charles and Roger. They live nearby, but that won’t be the same.
Sarah moved from one country to another. Beth moved from one city to another. Charles’s brother joined the navy. This is a year of changes. I’ll take Aunt Sylvia’s advice. I’ll wait before I decide if I like the move.
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