What My Sister Remembered (6 page)

“Listen, Molly,” Beth said, “I want to tell you something that I guess you don’t remember.”

I didn’t want to hear it. “Just don’t be nasty to my mom, Beth,” I said. “She’s had a lot of disappointments in her life, and
...
please, Beth—"

“She’s
had disappointments?” Beth repeated, but not in the way I had said it. In a mean way. But I knew that if I kept on talking, she couldn’t.

“Oh yes,” I said quickly. “You know Alex had to marry Lisa because she was pregnant, and he had to drop out of school. My mom nearly freaked out about that. She was so proud of Alex, and now he’s working as a computer repairman, and she’s afraid he won’t go back to school.”

Beth shrugged her shoulders.

“And then there’s Jeff.”

Now Beth looked interested. “What about Jeff?”

“Well, he never even finished high school. He always thought he’d be a musician, and sing and play in a band.”

“I remember. I remember,” Beth said. “He used to have a bunch of kids over playing guitars, and there was one guy who played a trumpet.”

“Right—and Mrs. Palagonia from upstairs kept complaining and complaining, and my mom tried to have them go and play somewhere else.”

“I remember Mrs. Palagonia,” Beth said, grinning now. Suddenly, I felt safe, and I grinned back at her. “Didn’t she have twin boys—funny-looking twin boys?”

“Yes, she did. She does. But they’re grown-up now, and they got to be real good-looking. You’re right. They were funny-looking when they were kids.”

“They had big noses?”

“Yes, they did.”

“And zits?”

“Yes, yes. But now they’re really good-looking. They’re about Alex’s age, and they still live at home.”

“Oh, I wish I could see them. I wish I could see Mrs. Palagonia. I liked her a whole lot. And wasn’t there a family with a baby downstairs? I think their name was something like Klondike?”

“Kronkite,” I told her. “They moved three or four years ago.”

“They had a beautiful baby girl. I remember that baby. Mrs. Kronkite let me hold her once on my lap, even though I was only four or five.”

“She used to bite. The baby, I mean,” I told Beth. “She used to bite, and her nose ran all the time. She turned into a real brat. I was glad they moved. But anyway, Jeff never finished high school, and he doesn’t have a real job. He does get some gigs here and there, but nothing that really pays.”

“He used to have a beautiful voice,” Beth said. “I can’t wait to see him.”

“It’s an okay voice, I guess, and he plays okay on the guitar, but nobody really thinks he’s that good. My mother wishes he would learn some kind of work to support himself. Every so often, my parents have to help him out. They keep saying it’s the last time, but I don’t think it ever will be.”

“Girls!” My father was calling. “Come on. It’s time for breakfast. We’ve got a lot to do.”

Beth jumped up. “That’s Uncle Walter. He’s really great. I don’t remember him as well as ... as the others, but he’s really nice.”

“My dad? Oh sure, but Beth, so is my mom.”

Beth just turned and walked out of the room.

* * * *

We had a lot to do. Beth and I went shopping with my dad while my mom stayed home and pretended that she would relax over another cup of coffee and read the Sunday paper. I knew she would straighten up the house all over again, worry about the stains on the dining room tablecloth, suffer over the chips in the china, and set the table before we came back.

We had a long, long list, and we had to go to several stores. I was still shaky from this crazy fear. Why should I be afraid of something Beth wanted to tell me? What could it be? Whatever it was, I didn’t want to hear it. I stayed quiet, but Dad and Beth chattered away as if they saw each other every day. Beth had opinions on lots of things.

“Don’t you have a health food store around here?” she asked my father.

“I couldn’t say,” he answered, dropping a couple of heads of lettuce into the shopping cart.

“We always get our produce at the health food store,” Beth told him. “We don’t want to eat food that’s been sprayed with poisons.”

My father picked up a bunch of green onions. “I think our bodies learn to tolerate the sprays,” he told her.

“I don’t agree with you, Uncle Walter,” she said. “I’ve done some research on the subject, and I think there’s a strong correlation between food sprays and certain types of cancer.”

“What about gasoline?” my father inquired, dropping three cucumbers into the basket.

“Gasoline is a major pollutant of the atmosphere,” Beth stated.

“And does your family own a car?”

“Well, actually, we have two cars, but I don’t approve.”

“Do you go places with your parents in the cars?” My father began picking out tomatoes. “Maybe you both better give me a hand with these tomatoes. We’re going to need a lot.”

“Yes, I admit I do, but I’m not perfect.” Beth grinned up at my dad, and he grinned back at her.

“No?” he said in mock surprise. “I thought you were. Okay, that’s enough tomatoes. Why don’t you go find two bunches of parsley, Beth? And Molly, you go see if they have any fresh basil.”

We picked up bread, and we picked up a chocolate cake and some strawberries. We bought wine, even though nobody in my family drinks wine except for Jeff, and we bought some fresh flowers for the dining room table.

* * * *

Back home, as I had expected, the house had been straightened up and the dining room table was set. There was a small tablecloth over the big one, which meant that Mom thought there were too many stains on the big one that couldn’t be covered by dishes,

Mom was crying in the kitchen. Not because of anything either Beth or I had said, but because she was chopping onions.

“You’d better stay out of the kitchen,” she said, her face wet with tears, as we carried in the packages. “Wait until I finish chopping the onions.”

“Maybe I should bring the fan into the kitchen,” my dad said. “It feels like a furnace in here.”

“And I haven’t even turned on the oven yet, my mother moaned. But if you bring in the fan from the living room, then it will be murder there later when the company comes."

"How about the little fan in your bedroom?" I said. You could put that one in the kitchen and leave the big one in the living room."

My mother's eyes were streaming. "I forgot about that one. Mrs. Palagonia borrowed it three days ago when she had company, but she forgot to return it."

“I’ll go get it,” Beth cried. “I remember where she lives. Upstairs, right above you. In apartment 5C.”

My mother just stood there with the tears running down her face and said nothing.

“I’ll go too, Mom,” I said. "She’s home. Listen, you can hear her moving around. Or maybe it’s Ted or Tom.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know
...
” My mother hesitated.

“I think it’s a good idea, girls,” said my father. “Go get the fan back, if she doesn’t need it. I’ll unpack the groceries while you’re gone.”

Beth went flying down the hall, and I had to hurry after her to keep up. “Wait a minute! Wait for me!”

“Let’s take the elevator,” she said out in the hall. Her eyes were shining.

“For one floor? It would take more time to take the elevator than to go up the stairs.”

“Oh, come on, Molly. I used to love that elevator. I remember I used to push all the buttons whenever we took it, and Mommy used to say I shouldn’t.”

“When did your mother tell you not to press the buttons?”

“I don’t mean my mother, stupid. I mean ... I mean Kathy.”

She was pressing the Up button.

“Well, I’m not going to wait,” I said, moving over to the stairs. “And I bet I’ll get there ahead of you.”

“Please, Molly.” She put out her hand. “Come on—let’s go together, like we used to.”

“I don’t remember ever going up in the elevator with you,” I grumbled, but I stayed with her.

Inside, she pressed 5 and then, giggling, she pressed 6,7,8,9,10—all the way to the top.

“That’s babyish,” I said, but she didn’t seem to hear.

She was still smiling when we stood in front of Mrs. Palagonia’s door, 5C.

“Let me ring it,” she said.

I shrugged my shoulders. Big deal.

She rang the doorbell, and her face looked the way a kid’s face looks in the movies when she’s opening a present with something wonderful in it. We heard footsteps, and she put her hands together in a kind of clap as the door opened.

It was Tom. “Hi, Molly,” he said. “What’s up?”

Tom was not as good-looking as Ted, but he was still very good-looking with his curly dark hair, his big blue eyes, and his very bright smile.

I could hear Beth take a deep breath, and when I turned to look at her, I saw that her mouth was open.

“This is my sister, Beth,” I told him. “She’s come for a visit.”

“Nice to meet you, Beth,” Tom said, smiling at her. Then he turned back to me. “Did you want to see my mother?”

“Uh-huh,” I told him. “She borrowed a fan a few days ago, and my mom needs it back because we’re having a lot of company, and ...”

Tom opened the door all the way. “Come in. We’re all going to visit my Uncle Joe out on the Island. It’s a good thing you caught us before we left. Ma! Ma! Molly’s here. She wants her fan back.”

Mrs. Palagonia emerged from the living room. She hit her head with her hand. “I’m so dumb,” she said. “Your mother was nice enough to lend me her fan, and I—" She stopped talking and looked at Beth.

“This is my sister, Beth, Mrs. Palagonia. She’s come for a visit and—"

“Bethy,” said Mrs. Palagonia. “This is Bethy, all grown up, little Bethy
...
” She held out her arms, and Beth immediately moved into them. “So wonderful to see you, darling,” Mrs. Palagonia said, kissing her cheek. “I felt so bad ... all these years
...
but, thank God, as your aunt says, it all worked out for the best.”

Beth kissed Mrs. Palagonia too and said, “I remember the Christmas cookies you used to make. I remember they were big stars with shiny, silver balls, and once you made me a beautiful star all silver in the center.”

“Oh, I haven’t baked for years.” Mrs. Palagonia laughed. “But it’s true. You used to come and help me.” She looked at me. “Molly was too little, but you used to come up. “Yes ... I remember too. Come in. Come in. Sit down.”

“Ma,” Tom said, “we’re supposed to be there by one. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“So we’ll be late. This is such a treat for me to see Bethy. I can’t tell you how I cried when
...
well, it’s all over, and
...
come in, come in!”

We went into Mrs. Palagonia’s cluttered living room with all the mirrors and pictures and little knickknacks. Beth looked around and smiled. “I remember the room just like this,” she said, “with all your pretty things in it. And there was a little white china poodle with a gold collar. You let me hold it sometimes.”

“Yes, yes.” Mrs. Palagonia reached up on one of her crowded shelves of knickknacks and picked up a little china dog. “Here, sweetheart, here. You can hold it. You can keep it. I always wanted to give you a present, but there wasn’t time.”

Ted came into the room, car keys in hand. “Are we ready?”

“Teddy, this is Bethy. Do you remember Bethy, Molly’s sister?”

Ted smiled and nodded. I don’t think he remembered Beth just as Tom hadn’t remembered.

“Mrs. Palagonia,” I said, “my mom needs the fan back because the boys are coming over, and so is Beth’s mother, and Lisa, and somebody named Ginger.”

“Go, Teddy, get the fan. It’s in the kitchen. And maybe you’d like to borrow the big one in the living room. You know, Bethy, I have air-conditioning in my bedroom. The boys are so good to me. And they want to put another one in the living room, but I don’t know
...
”

“Ma,” Tom said, “it’s going to be crowded on the highway, and we’re late already.”

Mrs. Palagonia kissed Beth a few more times before we left with the two fans. She never kissed me like that, and she never gave me one of her little china figures cither.

Chapter 7

Beth pressed all the buttons in the elevator going down—4, 3, 2, 1. She giggled and looked around that hot, dirty little elevator as if it was Cinderella’s magic coach.

I could smell the sauce cooking when I opened the door to our apartment. Beth was carrying the small fan in one hand and the little china dog in the other. I was carrying the big fan.

“Let’s bring the little fan into the kitchen,” I told Beth, putting down the big fan in the hall. “Later, we’ll decide where to put the big one.”

My mom and dad were both working in the kitchen. It was hot and steamy, but the smell of the cooking sauce made my mouth water.

“Look what Mrs. Palagonia gave me,” Beth said, holding up the little china dog.

My father smiled. “You must really rate,” he said. “She doesn’t give anything away, and her boys complain that she keeps cluttering up the place with more and more junk.”

“It’s not junk,” Beth protested. She looked down at the little dog and said, “It’s beautiful. I remember how she used to let me hold it when I was little.”

“No kidding!” my dad said. “I didn’t realize you even knew her.”

“Walter,” said my mom, “Mrs. Palagonia’s been living here longer than we have. She knew Kathy and Dan even before they had kids. She
...
she
...
”

“She’s a very nice lady,” Beth said, “and the boys are so good-looking.” She began giggling. “They look like movie stars. I’m so glad I saw them. They were going to visit their Uncle Joe out on the Island. I think I remember him too. Isn’t he a little fat man with a finger missing—and he used to play a game with us. He used to put his handkerchief over his fingers and make believe there was a bird underneath, and we ...” She went jabbering on and on, waving the little dog around with one hand, and the little fan with the other.

My father reached over and patted Beth’s head. “What a memory you have, Beth!” He turned to Mom. “It’s really amazing what she remembers— things I’ve forgotten—good things. It’s like time stood still for her while it moved along for the rest of us.”