How High the Moon (36 page)

“Why’d you send me money to help me get the rest of the way to California then, if you didn’t believe in me?”

“For the same reason I sent it to you when you wrote and begged for it because you got kicked out of your apartment in Denver. And the same reason I sent another bundle to California after that so-called Hollywood director who was putting you up—you know, just as a friend—threw you out. I may not be the brightest guy, Catty, but I can read between the lines.”

“Okay, okay. I may have made some mistakes with you, and with Teaspoon. But we’ve all made mistakes. Isn’t that what you told me, Teddy? But no matter what mistakes I’ve made, you can’t accuse me of not loving my baby girl. You know I love her.”

“You love everybody, Catty. The drunk at the bar, the stranger on the street, your boyfriend, your daughter. You love them all. And you love them all equally. But that’s not what I was talking about.”

Ma started crying then. Big choking Brenda-puking sobs. I stood up, wanting Teddy, somebody, to hug her and make her tears stop. Instead Teddy just said, “And you’re supposed to be an actress,” like he’d never even seen her movie poster.

“Listen, Catty. Let’s cut this drama. Level with me. How much do you want?”

“How dare you question my motives, you son of a bitch,” Ma screamed. I heard the thump of something against a wall. Probably a shoe.

That’s when I shoved the closet door open with both hands and yanked open my bedroom door. “Stop fighting!” I yelled. “Just stop it!”

Teddy’s shoulders and head yanked back. “Teaspoon,” he said. He sighed out his mad and fell back into his chair, his elbows pinned to his knees as he ran his hands through his still-sweaty hair. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m so sorry.”

I ignored Teddy and ran to Ma. “Tell him you’re not leaving, Ma. Tell him you’ve found your dream and you came back to be his girlfriend and my ma. Please, Ma, tell him! Tell him you love us best!”

Ma put her hand on her waist, right above her butt. She rubbed her forehead where her bangs were sticking and she looked down at Teddy, her eyes shining hard like Mrs. Bloom’s jewels. Then she took my hands and led me to the couch.

“Listen, sweetie,” she said. I was crying already. “You remember how we talked about needing to chase our dreams?”

“Yeah, but you found yours,” I reminded her. “You got a poster to prove it.”

“Honey,” she said, leaning her face close to mine. Her breath smelled like Dentyne. “Dreams aren’t just a one-shot deal… or they shouldn’t be. I wanted to be a piano bar singer, and I became one. I wanted to star in a movie, and I starred in two. But Teaspoon, what I’ve got under my belt is two low-budget B movies. What I want is to become another Greta Garbo. Grace Kelly. I’m twenty-seven years old, honey. I’m passing for twenty-two now, but I can’t do that forever. And I can’t stay in Mill Town forever, Teaspoon. Just until my agent finds me another, better part. You understand?”

I lowered my head so Ma wouldn’t have to see my tears.

“Oh, honey. Don’t cry. I love you with all I’ve got, but I’ve never been one to let mushrooms grow under my ass. You know that.”

I threw my arms around her neck. “Don’t leave me again, Ma. Please.” I could feel tears dripping down my cheeks and wetting Ma’s shirt beneath my chin.

Even with strands of Ma’s hair covering my face like coppery netting hanging from a hat, I could see Teddy fall against the back of his chair, his arms dropping into his lap, his eyes going up like he was looking for something. Maybe a brown bulge in the ceiling. Or maybe Jesus.

Suddenly Ma’s whole body perked, and she pulled me away
from her so we could see each other’s faces. “You can go with me!” she said.

Teddy sat straight up, stiff as a pencil, then he groaned. “Oh, Catty, no…”

Ma stopped him. “No, what? Don’t take my baby with me? Leave her behind and break her heart again? You’re my ex-boyfriend, Teddy. Nothing more. And this isn’t for you to decide. If Teaspoon wants to come with me, then she’ll come with me.”

“So you’re asking her to make this decision?” Teddy said, blinking at Ma with you’ve-got-to-be-kidding eyes.

“Why not?” Ma said. “Teaspoon’s old enough to decide who she wants to live with.”

“Catty… no child should have to decide something like this.”

“What? You afraid she’ll choose me over you? Like you chose that frumpy, whatever-her-name-is over me?”

Ma’s fingers worked like a comb to push the curls out of my eyes. “We can chase our dreams together,” she said, her voice turning as excited as rock ‘n’ roll. “I can sign you up with my agent. You can do commercials… audition for parts. Where’s Hollywood going to find a prettier, more talented little girl than my Teaspoon?”

“My God,” Teddy said, standing up. “Catty, this is absurd.”

“Absurd? Why? You don’t think Teaspoon has the talent to make it in Hollywood?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Teddy said.

“Then what’s absurd? Going after your dreams?” Ma snapped. “Well, I suppose to someone whose dream was to become an electrician—and you couldn’t even make that one happen—it
would
seem absurd. But to folks like me and Teaspoon, who have bigger dreams—”

“This isn’t about dreams, Catty!” Teddy was shouting now, and he didn’t sound like Teddy at all. “It’s about being a responsible, respectable parent. There’s nothing wrong with you chasing your dreams, but to abandon a small child… walk away and not look
back for five years… living out of your car half the time… you can’t take a child off to that kind of life because of a sudden whim. Have you lost your mind?”

“A whim?” Ma gave me a quick glance, then turned back to Teddy. “Why do you think I came back here, Teddy, if not to ask my little girl if she wants to go with her mama? What possible reason do you think I had in coming?”

Teddy looked at me, sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, then he turned away.

Ma turned back to me, playing with one of my curls. “And Teaspoon understands there’s sacrifices to be made when you’re chasing your dream.”

“Oh, you’ve taught her well about sacrifices, Catty. Me, too, for that matter. But this has to be about what is best for her,” Teddy said.

Ma bent my head back so she could look straight into my eyes, then waited. Like she had just asked me which I wanted, a soda pop or a candy bar.

“Catty,” Teddy said, his voice cracking. “Her gala is in five days. She’s worked so hard for this. Don’t do this to her now.”

Ma put her hand over her balloons. “Oh, I wouldn’t take her before her big debut. I’ve worked the stage, Teddy. I know that the show must go on.”

The candy and chips I’d eaten at the tavern were swirling sick in my stomach. “I’ll give it some thought,” I said, tapping my heart. Because what else could I say?

“Okay,” Ma said with a little pout. She kissed my cheek, then got up and slipped into Teddy’s room to get her makeup case.

Teddy kept his hands in his pockets when he looked up at me. “Doesn’t rehearsal start an extra hour early tonight?” he said. “If you don’t feel up to going, I could go talk to Brenda.”

“Teddy. I can’t miss tonight. It’s our last practice before dress rehearsal. And we haven’t practiced in two days.”

Teddy gave his head one nod, then stared at me, like he was deciding
if he wanted to say more or not, while I watched him, freezing him in my eyes.

Teddy gave me a hug before I left, like he’d forgotten he was mad at me for flipping him off, embarrassing Miss Tuckle, and scootering in front of Mr. Miller’s car. I wanted to forget my mad about him being a cheater and hug him, too, but instead I kept my arms tight to my side. It was his fault that we couldn’t be Teaspoon and Teddy and Catty. And because of it, now I had to decide if I was going to say good-bye to the only ma I’d ever have, or, to him. And I didn’t know if I was going to be able to do either.

Charlie was sitting
Humpty-Dumpty when I got outside. I didn’t know if he heard the fight or not, because even if he was trying to ear-spy, I’m not sure he would have had much success with their screen open and the television blaring another love story gone wrong. Either way, I didn’t want to even think about what was just said, much less talk about it. I was too mixed up inside.

Across the street, Dumbo Doug’s car was out front of the Jacksons’ house, and the whole Jackson family was on the lawn, even Mr. Jackson. They were standing in a semicircle around Johnny, who had a big duffel bag sitting in the grass by his feet.

“I think he’s going away,” Charlie said when he saw me staring.

Jolene was wiping her eyes, and Jennifer went to lean up against Johnny’s side, chewing on her braid. I turned away because I couldn’t look, and got on my scooter. “See ya, Charlie,” I said, not looking at him. And not looking when Johnny called my name.

I got about four blocks down, almost to the Starlight, when Dumbo Doug’s car pulled up to the curb. “For crissakes, Johnny,” I heard Doug say as his car stopped, the nose pointing in the same direction I was going in.

“Teaspoon, wait up!” Johnny called, as he jogged across the street.

I stopped my scooter, but I didn’t look at him.

“I’m going down south with Doug to work on the crew Perkins set up there. I’ll make bigger bucks, and, well, I just need to get away for a while. I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to my favorite girl, though. And telling you that I’m sorry I’ll have to miss your show. You break a leg though, okay?”

I stared straight ahead and didn’t say a word.

“You take good care of yourself. And enjoy your ma being back. When I write to my family, I’ll stick a note in there for Jolene to give to you.”

Fat chance of her doing that, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.

Johnny picked me up, potato-sack-style, like always, and he gave me a shake. But it didn’t shake the sad out of me. It only stirred it up more. “Take good care of your Big Sister, too, okay?” He set me down, gave my head a rub, then ran back to Dumbo Doug’s car, leaning over and pressing the horn as they pulled away.

We were standing
on stage, holding our blue feather fans, stubby, dumb versions of the Big Sisters’ fans, which were exactly like Rosemary Clooney’s and Vera-Ellen’s. “Ours don’t even have pleats in them so we can open and close them like the Big Sisters’ can. What a gyp,” I told Mindy.

“Girls, girls!” Jay shouted, his hands making short, fast claps. “How could you forget almost everything you learned in two days?”

And sure enough, it seemed like most had. At least the other Little Sisters. They kept flubbing up the lyrics, and stepping right when they should have stepped left. Jay turned so his back was to us. “Right! Left!” he said, holding up his hand to show them the difference, then doing the same with his legs. Not that it helped. When the number ended—even after the fourth time—some of the Little Sisters went right (even though only the Big Sisters were supposed to exit right), and some went left, so that our line parted like the Red Sea. “I told you we should exit with our Big Sisters, Jay,” I said.

Jay ignored that, but he didn’t ignore me. “And Pip Squeak,” he said, right about the time I was harping at the girl next to me to follow me if she was too afflicted to know right from left. “You’re singing like a dream, honey, but spark it up a bit, will you? Get
some bounce back in your step. You’re dead-center so all eyes will be on you. Smile. Perk. Got it?”

“Well, their eyes aren’t on me now, Big Squeak,” I said. Some of the Big Sisters, respectable as they were, giggled. Well, except for Brenda, who hadn’t smiled once since rehearsal started, just like me. Jay didn’t get after her, though, even if she was dead-center behind me. Probably because she was the half boss. Or maybe because he thought she was feeling sick, which is how she looked.

“You still puking lots?” I asked Brenda when I found her in the restroom line after Jay told us to “take five,” and “visit the little girls’ room” if we had to.

“Don’t you worry about me, Teaspoon. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” I asked, my eyes taking in the droopy waist of her dress.

“I’m sure. But I’m not sure about you. You look down today, Teaspoon. Is everything okay?” What could I say, with Little Sisters running all over the place, and everybody talking until you couldn’t think straight. And me not wanting to talk about the choice I had to make anyway, because just saying it out loud would make it more real. So I kept my head down, just in case Teddy was right when he said that eyes are the windows to our souls, because I didn’t want Brenda seeing my soul being darker blue than my eyes.

“You said on Saturday that you had something to show me. Did you bring it along?”

Brenda was talking about the movie poster. I shook my head.

“Teaspoon? You sure you didn’t bring it? You’re not just being politely quiet, are you? Because no matter how nervous I am, or how I feel, I still want you to share things with me.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Bring it tomorrow. I want to see what you were so excited about.” Brenda forced her lips to stretch into a smile.

“Speaking of showing something…” Mrs. Bloom said, appearing out of nowhere and not even apologizing for butting in on our
conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me that the programs came in this week? My God, they’re gorgeous.”

Mrs. Bloom held a program up, and feeling frumpy or not, I got up on my tiptoes and peeked over her arm. “Let me see! Let me see!”

Mrs. Bloom bent down and showed me the glossy, greeting-card-fancy cover. I ran my finger over the moon at the top, then over
How High the Moon
, the letters bumping under my skin. “Wow, huh?” I said. “Does it list our act inside?”

“It sure does,” Mrs. Bloom said as she opened it, pointing with a fingernail every bit as glossy as the paper. “Right there. Right before Les Paul and Mary Ford.”

Brenda suddenly looked pukey. “Mother… we have to talk.”

Mrs. Bloom shook her head. “No time for talking,” she said.

“Mother, please. We have a major problem here.”

Mrs. Bloom looked at Brenda, her head cocked, her lips stretched. “Then fix it,” she said. She plucked the program out of my hand and went off to show it to Leonard’s mother.