Eat and Get Gas, page 16
She smiled when I curled up my top lip and said I liked my big teeth. As the bus pulled away, I could see that Louanne and Dr. Lars were sitting together in the back.
AT DiNNER THAT NIGHT, DAD SAT NEXT to me. He asked me about my school, sorting mail, and roller-skating. He didn’t mention Mom or my brothers, and he didn’t cut me off when I went into detail about the mail route, the geography test I passed with flying colors, or my friends Marie and Carla, who both had kittens from the same litter. It was strange and kind of nice having Dad’s attention for the first time in ages, but it took restraint to keep quiet and not ask about Mom, Adam, and Teddy.
It wasn’t just Dad who was being weird. Grandma and Aunt Vivian were overly cheerful and quieter than usual. When Dad sat down on the couch next to me to watch TV, he handed me a roll of cherry Life Savers, my favorite, and I practically screamed, “What is it? Is Mom dead or something?”
Dad looked at Grandma, and I saw her nod.
“No, she’s not dead, but she’s a lot sicker than she was back in August.” Dad was still looking at Grandma. “She has no balance and gets dizzy. She’s seeing a specialist next month to find out what’s wrong. Her family is taking good care of her, and they treat Teddy like he’s a prince. Adam wasn’t around, and no one would tell me where he was living. It doesn’t matter now. It’s best if I don’t know. He’d go straight to prison if they caught him crossing the border. So, until your mom gets better, they’re staying there, and you’re staying here.”
“What? Are you kidding?” I threw the roll of Life Savers across the room and watched it roll toward Grandma and Aunt Vivian at the dining room table.
“I can take a bus or a train, or maybe Uncle Frankie can drive me to Edmonton. I wanna be with Mom and Teddy, not here.” I was talking louder and faster than I’d meant to.
“Not possible. There’s no room for you there. Your mom shares a bed with Teddy and that mutt of yours,” Dad said.
“Why didn’t you bring her back, then?”
“She’s not well enough to travel, and she hasn’t told you because it could be September before she’s well enough to get a place of her own there.”
I hid my face in my hands. “I don’t want to stay here for nine more months. No one wants me to either,” I said, sucking in a breath.
“Well, I don’t want you to leave. Not now, anyway.” Grandma’s voice was quivering. “When you heard me tell Gene last month to take you to Edmonton, I didn’t know how unwell Endura was. Now that I know, I’ve changed my mind.”
“You’ve got no options,” Dad said. “I’m out of here in four days.”
“Why? Can’t you just wait for Mom to get better and come home? What did you guys do all those weeks? Why didn’t you call? You said you would. You just sent Grandma a check!” I moved to the doorway, out of his reach.
Dad rubbed his hands back and forth over his bald head, and I could tell he didn’t want to answer. But I stayed put, waiting.
“I was in Edmonton for three days. Been at Mooch’s the rest of the time. I needed a bit of R and R before I head back to the jungle,” he replied.
“A slap on that big, bald, empty head of yours is what you need!” Aunt Vivian said. She came over and pulled me close. “Who says no one wants you here? Frankie and Paco do, and everyone knows the bread delivery man does.”
I took a breath, but I didn’t move until she stepped back and motioned for me to follow her up the stairs. Once in her room, I sat down in her red wing chair, and she opened the floor vent so we could listen to Dad and Grandma in the kitchen below. I didn’t catch what Grandma had said. I only heard Dad say, “She’s staying here. I’ll send you money!” And then the back door slammed shut.
In the morning, Paco told Grandma that Uncle Frankie was sicker than ever, and he’d be going to the post office to pick up the mail. I reminded Grandma that school was out, and I could skip roller-skating with Marie and Carla that afternoon to sort the mail for Uncle Frankie.
“No, you won’t,” Dad said, not looking up from his crossword puzzle. “Frankie is a big sissy. He needs to get his ass out of bed and do his goddamn job.”
By lunchtime, Dad had already left with Mooch to go clam digging up north. I took a couple of cheeseburgers with me to Uncle Frankie’s house. I sorted mail as fast as I could until Paco closed Get Gas, and we packed it all into Grandma’s Studebaker.
We didn’t talk too much that day. I think we were both tired and wanted to finish the route before the rain got worse. Still, it felt good to be with Paco. He said nice things to me, didn’t smoke in the car, and didn’t drive like he was going to a fire, and we liked the same music.
TWO DAYS LATER, WHEN DAD GOT BACK from digging with Mooch, he told me to grab my coat and get into his car. “We’re going home to get some things your mom needs. You’d better get your shit while we’re there. No telling if you’ll get another chance.”
I sat in the back seat, behind Dad, pretending to read a book.
“Those people are still here,” I said as Dad parked behind a truck in our driveway. “And those kids are playing with our toys!” I yelled, pointing to a girl and a boy on our front lawn.
“Looks like it,” Dad replied.
“You said they were only renting our house for a week!”
“They’re renting it for a year. Let’s just get our stuff and go. Don’t make a scene,” Dad growled.
It took me fifteen minutes to get my clothes and books from my bedroom closet. Dad had put Mom’s hope chest in his car when I approached the kids. “That’s my brother’s wagon. Get out of it,” I said, shoulders back and hands on hips, trying to look like a grown-up.
The boy got out and ran to the porch when I turned to the girl and told her to put my bike in the garage and leave it alone. She dropped the bike and went to her brother. They both cried, and later I did, too, when I recalled how mean I’d been. We didn’t have room for my bike, but we took the wagon.
Back at Grandma’s, before Dad left for the base to get ready to fly back to Vietnam, he took everything except the wagon upstairs to his old bedroom. I’d already decided I’d offer it to Hal and Hubert. If they didn’t want it, I’d leave it under The Three Sisters and put breadcrumbs from the bottom of the toaster in it for all the critters.
“I don’t have time to go through your mom’s treasure chest of junk, or whatever she calls it,” said Dad. “I’m gonna stay with Mooch tonight and go to the base tomorrow. Here’s her list of the things she wants and twenty bucks for the postage. Put what she wants in a box and get it to the post office, okay? And, Evan, do yourself a favor—try to think about what’s best for everyone and not just you.”
CHAPTER 20
THERE WERE FIVE RECITAL INVITATIONS attached to a fir Christmas wreath on Grandma’s porch the next morning. One was mine.
Hubert and Haldon Kowalski request your presence
Christmas Recital
December 24, 6:00 p.m.
Program:
Gnossienne No. 1
Für Elise
Clair de Lune
In the Hall of the Mountain King
Moonlight Sonata
Nocturne in C-sharp minor
Waltzes Op. 64, No. 1
Polonaise in A-flat major, Op. 53
Bumble Boogie
Joy to the World
Carol of the Bells
RSVP by 6:00 p.m. December 23
The only songs I knew were “Moonlight Sonata” and “Joy to the World,” but I still wanted to go. “Keep it. I know what it is, and I’m not interested,” Aunt Vivian said.
“Well, Viv, it’s not like we can say no. Those two do so much for us,” Grandma replied. “Besides, we need a little Christmas cheer around here. So, I’ll accept for us and let Frankie and Louanne decide for themselves. And we’d better take presents along this time. I want to make sure they feel appreciated.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll go, but just because you’re making me. But I won’t like it.”
“Oh, you’ll like it. You might even love it like last time!” Grandma tapped her fingers on the workbench like she was playing the piano.
UNCLE FRANKIE WAS ON HIS PORCH SMOKING when Grandma and I took the invitations to his house. I’d planned to take them on my own after lunch, but Grandma wanted to take him some soup and see how sick he was.
“Nope. No can do,” Uncle Frankie said after reading his invitation. “I’ll just cough through it, and Louanne doesn’t like music.”
“Suit yourselves. We’ll have a good time, that’s for sure,” Grandma moved beer cans off a stove burner to make room for the pot of chicken soup I was still holding. “Do any of these burners work?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t know.” Uncle Frankie sneezed into his hand.
“I’ll ask Hal and Hubert to fix the stove,” Grandma replied. “I hope you thanked them for keeping the gas station going while you were off doing whatever it is you do.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it,” Uncle Frankie said.
He was mad at them for showing him up. Lately, the talk in the café had been about Hal and Hubert and how good they were with customers. Mrs. Fine talked for days about Hubert and how he’d cleaned her headlights with his handkerchief and spit, and then kissed his two fingers and held them up as she drove away. Fisky said if he could find guys like them to work for him, he’d be a millionaire, and Paco had learned his lesson about underestimating weirdos.
CHRISTMAS EVE, THE DAY OF THE RECITAL, Aunt Vivian reminded me that Hal and Hubert’s house was cold and didn’t have an indoor bathroom, so I didn’t drink after lunch, and when it was time to leave, I put on a sweater over my shirt, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and stuffed a hat and mittens into my pocket.
I was on the front porch at 5:45, ready to go. Grandma came outside five minutes later wearing a red coat and black gloves. Her hair was caught up with gold pins. While we waited for Aunt Vivian, she told me not to clap until Hal and Hubert finished playing and stood up. “That’s how it is with classical music. You applaud at the end of the concert.”
To our surprise, Louanne appeared just as Grandma was attaching a small wreath ornament at the end of my hair braid. She wanted to go with us. “My friend from the bus, Dr. Lars, enjoys classical music,” she said, almost giggling.
It was nearly six when Aunt Vivian came outside. She’d had a hard time wrapping the belt sander she’d won at bingo the year before, and she handed it to me to carry. I also had a Christmas present for them, and so did Louanne and Grandma. Mine was a card decorated with feathers Peacock George had shed. Grandma had made them a gingerbread cake, and Louanne brought two red hats she’d knitted, both with green yarn balls on top.
By the time we left for Hal and Hubert’s, most of the candles on the path they’d laid to their front porch were flickering, and some were out. But they looked so cool that I lingered behind to take it in.
And just like Aunt Vivian had said, Hal and Hubert were wearing black tuxedos and bow ties, and their house was cold. They led us down a hall crowded with books and newspapers, to a room with a low ceiling and two large black pianos placed in the middle of the room, like puzzle pieces.
I sat between Grandma and Louanne because Aunt Vivian didn’t want me asking her questions during the performance. I moved forward to the edge of my chair because I’d only ever seen someone play the piano on TV and I didn’t want to miss a thing.
Hal and Hubert sat on stools and stayed hunched over their pianos, like Schroeder from the Peanuts comic, for a long time before they began playing. They never looked up at each other, but their fingers moved over the keys at the same time, in the same way. It was thrilling, like watching a magic trick.
The four of us were holding hands when they started playing the last song, “Carol of the Bells.” Halfway through, Hubert stood up, lifted his piano’s lid, and plucked the strings in sync with Hal’s piano playing. It was amazing, and I couldn’t stop smiling or keep my feet from moving to the music. I wanted to stay in that room, listening to them play the piano forever.
Suddenly, the song ended, and Hal and Hubert were on their feet and bowing to each other. We stood up, too, and I waited for Grandma to clap, to ensure I didn’t start too soon. The music had done something to me deep down—it was like a wave of good feelings moving through my body. It was happening to them, too. I could tell. I wanted to hug Hal and Hubert, maybe even kiss their cheeks, so I asked Grandma if that would be okay, and she wrapped her arm around me and said, “I know how you feel, but it’s not what a girl your age does with men their age.”
Nobody spoke on the walk back to Grandma’s house. Ten minutes passed before Aunt Vivian said we didn’t have to wait for Christmas to open the green boxes Hal and Hubert had given to each of us.
“I still don’t feel right about taking gifts from them,” Grandma said.
“Why not? You see how much they liked the gifts we gave them, especially the belt sander,” Aunt Vivian chuckled.
They did like our gifts, a lot more than I thought they would. They liked my feather card, tried on the hats, and oohed and aahed about Grandma’s cake. And Hal said, “Oh, me, me, me, my, my, my” when he unwrapped the belt sander.
Aunt Vivian and Grandma’s gift boxes contained cameo brooches. Louanne got six small silver spoons, but I got a pearl bracelet with a gold honeybee clasp. Grandma said it was stunning, and that she thought all our gifts had once belonged to their mother.
For the rest of the night, I moved my wrist around to admire my bracelet from every angle, wondering if Hal and Hubert’s mother used to do the same thing.
CHAPTER 21
IN THE MORNING, I WOKE TO HAL AND Hubert playing “Carol of the Bells.” The same song that had kept me smiling for hours the night before now made me cry. Not being with Mom and my brothers at Christmas was worse than at Thanksgiving. At least back then, I had thought Dad would be back with them any day.
I stayed under the covers until I heard Aunt Vivian outside my door. “There are too many presents downstairs for a girl named Evan. It isn’t fair.”
“Really? Presents for me?”
Dad had brought gifts from Edmonton: a puka shell necklace, a book called Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and a pair of brown-and-red striped pajamas.
I also got a card from Grandma with a twenty-dollar bill inside and a double-layer box of Whitman’s chocolates from Aunt Vivian. “I suppose this is the first time you’ve had candy that you didn’t have to share with Teddy?” she asked as I studied the picture of the contents, trying to decide which one to eat first.
“I’d be happy to share with him if I could.” I was thinking I’d save the dark chocolates for Teddy, until Aunt Vivian told me they were her favorites.
She and I had eaten the top layer of my box of chocolates when Grandma told me to get dressed and join them for breakfast in the café. I wasn’t hungry, but I went, reluctantly taking with me the presents I’d made in art class: two clay ashtrays more oval than round, more blue than green. Aunt Vivian used hers right away, and because Grandma was trying to give up smoking, she said hers would make a lovely soap dish.
When Uncle Frankie walked in with Paco to get a cup of the Tom-and-Jerry holiday drink Aunt Vivian had been talking about for weeks, she gave us the daily dead-soldier update as she poured, and Uncle Frankie immediately started in about Dad going back to Vietnam. “You’ve got to be a real asshole to leave your family at Christmas to go back to hell.”
“That’s enough!” Grandma said. “This is Christmas Day. I want a peaceful one.”
Uncle Frankie said he was sorry, but I could tell he wasn’t. “Letting you all know I’ve been too busy to get you presents,” he announced, spreading peanut butter on his pancakes before pouring syrup over them.
Aunt Vivian said, “Yuck,” and then in her most smart-aleck voice, “Letting you know that we all worked like dogs for you while you were off playing ‘hide the imaginary fugitive,’ and yet, we all have a Christmas present for you—even Evan.”
“That’s pretty cool. I’ll make sure I’m rich enough to send you sombreros next year then.” Uncle Frankie laughed as he slid his cup across the counter for another drink.
My presents for Uncle Frankie and Paco were the same. Grandma and I had been too excited after the piano recital to sleep, so we stayed up listening to Christmas records and making iced gingerbread men. I’d wrapped each one in wax paper and tied them with green ribbon, stopping to admire my new bracelet each time the light hit the gold clasp.
I STAYED BEHIND WHEN GRANDMA AND Aunt Vivian went to her house to call friends in North Dakota. Uncle Frankie and Paco had left by then to watch Hal and Hubert install an engine part in his car. I’d promised to clear tables, sweep the floor, and set up the dining room for Christmas dinner, and it was a lot more work than I’d thought it would be. I had to carry eight chairs from Grandma’s house, polish her candleholders and silverware, and iron a huge red tablecloth and matching napkins. I’d never ironed a tablecloth, and I had to do it twice. Even then, I could see lots of wrinkles when I put it over the two café tables I’d pushed together. “You know you have to turn the iron on,” Aunt Vivian joked when she saw it.
Even with the wrinkled cloth, I thought the table looked great. And I’d finished in time to call Mom while it was still cheap. Dad gave me ten dollars to pay Grandma for the phone call. He said ten bucks meant ten minutes, and he warned me about mentioning Adam. “Someone might listen in on your phone call, so don’t mention him.”
I called three times from the garage phone, but I couldn’t get through. I even called the operator for help, but she couldn’t manage it, either.
I lay on my bed for two hours reading my new book. I liked it okay, but it was hard to understand. Mom’s Christmas card was just as confusing: “New horizons for us all. Love, Mom.” Maybe the hidden messages in the story and Mom’s card meant she wanted me to stop complaining about being at Grandma’s and become a better helper, like Fletcher the seagull had to do. It was kind of what Dad had said before he left—I should think about what’s best for everyone and not just me.
AT DiNNER THAT NIGHT, DAD SAT NEXT to me. He asked me about my school, sorting mail, and roller-skating. He didn’t mention Mom or my brothers, and he didn’t cut me off when I went into detail about the mail route, the geography test I passed with flying colors, or my friends Marie and Carla, who both had kittens from the same litter. It was strange and kind of nice having Dad’s attention for the first time in ages, but it took restraint to keep quiet and not ask about Mom, Adam, and Teddy.
It wasn’t just Dad who was being weird. Grandma and Aunt Vivian were overly cheerful and quieter than usual. When Dad sat down on the couch next to me to watch TV, he handed me a roll of cherry Life Savers, my favorite, and I practically screamed, “What is it? Is Mom dead or something?”
Dad looked at Grandma, and I saw her nod.
“No, she’s not dead, but she’s a lot sicker than she was back in August.” Dad was still looking at Grandma. “She has no balance and gets dizzy. She’s seeing a specialist next month to find out what’s wrong. Her family is taking good care of her, and they treat Teddy like he’s a prince. Adam wasn’t around, and no one would tell me where he was living. It doesn’t matter now. It’s best if I don’t know. He’d go straight to prison if they caught him crossing the border. So, until your mom gets better, they’re staying there, and you’re staying here.”
“What? Are you kidding?” I threw the roll of Life Savers across the room and watched it roll toward Grandma and Aunt Vivian at the dining room table.
“I can take a bus or a train, or maybe Uncle Frankie can drive me to Edmonton. I wanna be with Mom and Teddy, not here.” I was talking louder and faster than I’d meant to.
“Not possible. There’s no room for you there. Your mom shares a bed with Teddy and that mutt of yours,” Dad said.
“Why didn’t you bring her back, then?”
“She’s not well enough to travel, and she hasn’t told you because it could be September before she’s well enough to get a place of her own there.”
I hid my face in my hands. “I don’t want to stay here for nine more months. No one wants me to either,” I said, sucking in a breath.
“Well, I don’t want you to leave. Not now, anyway.” Grandma’s voice was quivering. “When you heard me tell Gene last month to take you to Edmonton, I didn’t know how unwell Endura was. Now that I know, I’ve changed my mind.”
“You’ve got no options,” Dad said. “I’m out of here in four days.”
“Why? Can’t you just wait for Mom to get better and come home? What did you guys do all those weeks? Why didn’t you call? You said you would. You just sent Grandma a check!” I moved to the doorway, out of his reach.
Dad rubbed his hands back and forth over his bald head, and I could tell he didn’t want to answer. But I stayed put, waiting.
“I was in Edmonton for three days. Been at Mooch’s the rest of the time. I needed a bit of R and R before I head back to the jungle,” he replied.
“A slap on that big, bald, empty head of yours is what you need!” Aunt Vivian said. She came over and pulled me close. “Who says no one wants you here? Frankie and Paco do, and everyone knows the bread delivery man does.”
I took a breath, but I didn’t move until she stepped back and motioned for me to follow her up the stairs. Once in her room, I sat down in her red wing chair, and she opened the floor vent so we could listen to Dad and Grandma in the kitchen below. I didn’t catch what Grandma had said. I only heard Dad say, “She’s staying here. I’ll send you money!” And then the back door slammed shut.
In the morning, Paco told Grandma that Uncle Frankie was sicker than ever, and he’d be going to the post office to pick up the mail. I reminded Grandma that school was out, and I could skip roller-skating with Marie and Carla that afternoon to sort the mail for Uncle Frankie.
“No, you won’t,” Dad said, not looking up from his crossword puzzle. “Frankie is a big sissy. He needs to get his ass out of bed and do his goddamn job.”
By lunchtime, Dad had already left with Mooch to go clam digging up north. I took a couple of cheeseburgers with me to Uncle Frankie’s house. I sorted mail as fast as I could until Paco closed Get Gas, and we packed it all into Grandma’s Studebaker.
We didn’t talk too much that day. I think we were both tired and wanted to finish the route before the rain got worse. Still, it felt good to be with Paco. He said nice things to me, didn’t smoke in the car, and didn’t drive like he was going to a fire, and we liked the same music.
TWO DAYS LATER, WHEN DAD GOT BACK from digging with Mooch, he told me to grab my coat and get into his car. “We’re going home to get some things your mom needs. You’d better get your shit while we’re there. No telling if you’ll get another chance.”
I sat in the back seat, behind Dad, pretending to read a book.
“Those people are still here,” I said as Dad parked behind a truck in our driveway. “And those kids are playing with our toys!” I yelled, pointing to a girl and a boy on our front lawn.
“Looks like it,” Dad replied.
“You said they were only renting our house for a week!”
“They’re renting it for a year. Let’s just get our stuff and go. Don’t make a scene,” Dad growled.
It took me fifteen minutes to get my clothes and books from my bedroom closet. Dad had put Mom’s hope chest in his car when I approached the kids. “That’s my brother’s wagon. Get out of it,” I said, shoulders back and hands on hips, trying to look like a grown-up.
The boy got out and ran to the porch when I turned to the girl and told her to put my bike in the garage and leave it alone. She dropped the bike and went to her brother. They both cried, and later I did, too, when I recalled how mean I’d been. We didn’t have room for my bike, but we took the wagon.
Back at Grandma’s, before Dad left for the base to get ready to fly back to Vietnam, he took everything except the wagon upstairs to his old bedroom. I’d already decided I’d offer it to Hal and Hubert. If they didn’t want it, I’d leave it under The Three Sisters and put breadcrumbs from the bottom of the toaster in it for all the critters.
“I don’t have time to go through your mom’s treasure chest of junk, or whatever she calls it,” said Dad. “I’m gonna stay with Mooch tonight and go to the base tomorrow. Here’s her list of the things she wants and twenty bucks for the postage. Put what she wants in a box and get it to the post office, okay? And, Evan, do yourself a favor—try to think about what’s best for everyone and not just you.”
CHAPTER 20
THERE WERE FIVE RECITAL INVITATIONS attached to a fir Christmas wreath on Grandma’s porch the next morning. One was mine.
Hubert and Haldon Kowalski request your presence
Christmas Recital
December 24, 6:00 p.m.
Program:
Gnossienne No. 1
Für Elise
Clair de Lune
In the Hall of the Mountain King
Moonlight Sonata
Nocturne in C-sharp minor
Waltzes Op. 64, No. 1
Polonaise in A-flat major, Op. 53
Bumble Boogie
Joy to the World
Carol of the Bells
RSVP by 6:00 p.m. December 23
The only songs I knew were “Moonlight Sonata” and “Joy to the World,” but I still wanted to go. “Keep it. I know what it is, and I’m not interested,” Aunt Vivian said.
“Well, Viv, it’s not like we can say no. Those two do so much for us,” Grandma replied. “Besides, we need a little Christmas cheer around here. So, I’ll accept for us and let Frankie and Louanne decide for themselves. And we’d better take presents along this time. I want to make sure they feel appreciated.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll go, but just because you’re making me. But I won’t like it.”
“Oh, you’ll like it. You might even love it like last time!” Grandma tapped her fingers on the workbench like she was playing the piano.
UNCLE FRANKIE WAS ON HIS PORCH SMOKING when Grandma and I took the invitations to his house. I’d planned to take them on my own after lunch, but Grandma wanted to take him some soup and see how sick he was.
“Nope. No can do,” Uncle Frankie said after reading his invitation. “I’ll just cough through it, and Louanne doesn’t like music.”
“Suit yourselves. We’ll have a good time, that’s for sure,” Grandma moved beer cans off a stove burner to make room for the pot of chicken soup I was still holding. “Do any of these burners work?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t know.” Uncle Frankie sneezed into his hand.
“I’ll ask Hal and Hubert to fix the stove,” Grandma replied. “I hope you thanked them for keeping the gas station going while you were off doing whatever it is you do.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it,” Uncle Frankie said.
He was mad at them for showing him up. Lately, the talk in the café had been about Hal and Hubert and how good they were with customers. Mrs. Fine talked for days about Hubert and how he’d cleaned her headlights with his handkerchief and spit, and then kissed his two fingers and held them up as she drove away. Fisky said if he could find guys like them to work for him, he’d be a millionaire, and Paco had learned his lesson about underestimating weirdos.
CHRISTMAS EVE, THE DAY OF THE RECITAL, Aunt Vivian reminded me that Hal and Hubert’s house was cold and didn’t have an indoor bathroom, so I didn’t drink after lunch, and when it was time to leave, I put on a sweater over my shirt, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and stuffed a hat and mittens into my pocket.
I was on the front porch at 5:45, ready to go. Grandma came outside five minutes later wearing a red coat and black gloves. Her hair was caught up with gold pins. While we waited for Aunt Vivian, she told me not to clap until Hal and Hubert finished playing and stood up. “That’s how it is with classical music. You applaud at the end of the concert.”
To our surprise, Louanne appeared just as Grandma was attaching a small wreath ornament at the end of my hair braid. She wanted to go with us. “My friend from the bus, Dr. Lars, enjoys classical music,” she said, almost giggling.
It was nearly six when Aunt Vivian came outside. She’d had a hard time wrapping the belt sander she’d won at bingo the year before, and she handed it to me to carry. I also had a Christmas present for them, and so did Louanne and Grandma. Mine was a card decorated with feathers Peacock George had shed. Grandma had made them a gingerbread cake, and Louanne brought two red hats she’d knitted, both with green yarn balls on top.
By the time we left for Hal and Hubert’s, most of the candles on the path they’d laid to their front porch were flickering, and some were out. But they looked so cool that I lingered behind to take it in.
And just like Aunt Vivian had said, Hal and Hubert were wearing black tuxedos and bow ties, and their house was cold. They led us down a hall crowded with books and newspapers, to a room with a low ceiling and two large black pianos placed in the middle of the room, like puzzle pieces.
I sat between Grandma and Louanne because Aunt Vivian didn’t want me asking her questions during the performance. I moved forward to the edge of my chair because I’d only ever seen someone play the piano on TV and I didn’t want to miss a thing.
Hal and Hubert sat on stools and stayed hunched over their pianos, like Schroeder from the Peanuts comic, for a long time before they began playing. They never looked up at each other, but their fingers moved over the keys at the same time, in the same way. It was thrilling, like watching a magic trick.
The four of us were holding hands when they started playing the last song, “Carol of the Bells.” Halfway through, Hubert stood up, lifted his piano’s lid, and plucked the strings in sync with Hal’s piano playing. It was amazing, and I couldn’t stop smiling or keep my feet from moving to the music. I wanted to stay in that room, listening to them play the piano forever.
Suddenly, the song ended, and Hal and Hubert were on their feet and bowing to each other. We stood up, too, and I waited for Grandma to clap, to ensure I didn’t start too soon. The music had done something to me deep down—it was like a wave of good feelings moving through my body. It was happening to them, too. I could tell. I wanted to hug Hal and Hubert, maybe even kiss their cheeks, so I asked Grandma if that would be okay, and she wrapped her arm around me and said, “I know how you feel, but it’s not what a girl your age does with men their age.”
Nobody spoke on the walk back to Grandma’s house. Ten minutes passed before Aunt Vivian said we didn’t have to wait for Christmas to open the green boxes Hal and Hubert had given to each of us.
“I still don’t feel right about taking gifts from them,” Grandma said.
“Why not? You see how much they liked the gifts we gave them, especially the belt sander,” Aunt Vivian chuckled.
They did like our gifts, a lot more than I thought they would. They liked my feather card, tried on the hats, and oohed and aahed about Grandma’s cake. And Hal said, “Oh, me, me, me, my, my, my” when he unwrapped the belt sander.
Aunt Vivian and Grandma’s gift boxes contained cameo brooches. Louanne got six small silver spoons, but I got a pearl bracelet with a gold honeybee clasp. Grandma said it was stunning, and that she thought all our gifts had once belonged to their mother.
For the rest of the night, I moved my wrist around to admire my bracelet from every angle, wondering if Hal and Hubert’s mother used to do the same thing.
CHAPTER 21
IN THE MORNING, I WOKE TO HAL AND Hubert playing “Carol of the Bells.” The same song that had kept me smiling for hours the night before now made me cry. Not being with Mom and my brothers at Christmas was worse than at Thanksgiving. At least back then, I had thought Dad would be back with them any day.
I stayed under the covers until I heard Aunt Vivian outside my door. “There are too many presents downstairs for a girl named Evan. It isn’t fair.”
“Really? Presents for me?”
Dad had brought gifts from Edmonton: a puka shell necklace, a book called Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and a pair of brown-and-red striped pajamas.
I also got a card from Grandma with a twenty-dollar bill inside and a double-layer box of Whitman’s chocolates from Aunt Vivian. “I suppose this is the first time you’ve had candy that you didn’t have to share with Teddy?” she asked as I studied the picture of the contents, trying to decide which one to eat first.
“I’d be happy to share with him if I could.” I was thinking I’d save the dark chocolates for Teddy, until Aunt Vivian told me they were her favorites.
She and I had eaten the top layer of my box of chocolates when Grandma told me to get dressed and join them for breakfast in the café. I wasn’t hungry, but I went, reluctantly taking with me the presents I’d made in art class: two clay ashtrays more oval than round, more blue than green. Aunt Vivian used hers right away, and because Grandma was trying to give up smoking, she said hers would make a lovely soap dish.
When Uncle Frankie walked in with Paco to get a cup of the Tom-and-Jerry holiday drink Aunt Vivian had been talking about for weeks, she gave us the daily dead-soldier update as she poured, and Uncle Frankie immediately started in about Dad going back to Vietnam. “You’ve got to be a real asshole to leave your family at Christmas to go back to hell.”
“That’s enough!” Grandma said. “This is Christmas Day. I want a peaceful one.”
Uncle Frankie said he was sorry, but I could tell he wasn’t. “Letting you all know I’ve been too busy to get you presents,” he announced, spreading peanut butter on his pancakes before pouring syrup over them.
Aunt Vivian said, “Yuck,” and then in her most smart-aleck voice, “Letting you know that we all worked like dogs for you while you were off playing ‘hide the imaginary fugitive,’ and yet, we all have a Christmas present for you—even Evan.”
“That’s pretty cool. I’ll make sure I’m rich enough to send you sombreros next year then.” Uncle Frankie laughed as he slid his cup across the counter for another drink.
My presents for Uncle Frankie and Paco were the same. Grandma and I had been too excited after the piano recital to sleep, so we stayed up listening to Christmas records and making iced gingerbread men. I’d wrapped each one in wax paper and tied them with green ribbon, stopping to admire my new bracelet each time the light hit the gold clasp.
I STAYED BEHIND WHEN GRANDMA AND Aunt Vivian went to her house to call friends in North Dakota. Uncle Frankie and Paco had left by then to watch Hal and Hubert install an engine part in his car. I’d promised to clear tables, sweep the floor, and set up the dining room for Christmas dinner, and it was a lot more work than I’d thought it would be. I had to carry eight chairs from Grandma’s house, polish her candleholders and silverware, and iron a huge red tablecloth and matching napkins. I’d never ironed a tablecloth, and I had to do it twice. Even then, I could see lots of wrinkles when I put it over the two café tables I’d pushed together. “You know you have to turn the iron on,” Aunt Vivian joked when she saw it.
Even with the wrinkled cloth, I thought the table looked great. And I’d finished in time to call Mom while it was still cheap. Dad gave me ten dollars to pay Grandma for the phone call. He said ten bucks meant ten minutes, and he warned me about mentioning Adam. “Someone might listen in on your phone call, so don’t mention him.”
I called three times from the garage phone, but I couldn’t get through. I even called the operator for help, but she couldn’t manage it, either.
I lay on my bed for two hours reading my new book. I liked it okay, but it was hard to understand. Mom’s Christmas card was just as confusing: “New horizons for us all. Love, Mom.” Maybe the hidden messages in the story and Mom’s card meant she wanted me to stop complaining about being at Grandma’s and become a better helper, like Fletcher the seagull had to do. It was kind of what Dad had said before he left—I should think about what’s best for everyone and not just me.
