Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack! (10 page)

“Oh, Tucker?” Mrs. Hocker said as he started down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Leave your book bag up here.”

Tucker had three gifts in the book bag: the two he had made for Dinky and Natalia, and P. John’s gift to Dinky.

Tucker shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and stood there a moment with the book bag under his arm. He said, “There’s not much in it, Mrs. Hocker.”

“We’ve all had our Christmas,” she said, “and we had a rule that we wouldn’t exchange gifts. But I realize Natalia made something for you, and you made something for her. It’s all right, Tucker. Leave the book bag up here. We’re all curious to see your homemade gifts.”

Tucker came back reluctantly and set the book bag down in the hall.

Then he went to the back of the house and removed his coat, put it on Dinky’s bed, and sat down to take off his boots.

Marcus appeared in the doorway. “You want a glass of champagne, man? I’m bartender.”

“I don’t drink,” Tucker said.

“I know that, man, but everyone has one glass of champagne today.”

“Okay,” Tucker said.

“That cat of yours has been acting crazy,” Marcus said. “That cat’s been tearing around ripping up the place.”

“It’s Susan’s cat,” Tucker said.

“She’s been acting crazy, too. What’s going on, man? What’s she in the doghouse about?”

“I don’t know,” Tucker shrugged.

“How come you’re calling her Susan now?”

“Because that’s her name.”

“What’s the matter, man? Don’t you want to be friends?”

“Sure, Marcus,” Tucker said. “I’m just down.” Tucker wondered if he could pretend P. John’s gift was something he’d bought for Dinky himself before his mother told him gifts weren’t being exchanged. Then he remembered P. John said there was a note from him inside. No way.

“I used to feel that down a long time ago,” Marcus said. “I’d take my pillow out and look for trouble, you know what I mean?”

“Your pillow?” Tucker said.

“I used to take a pillow with me in the summer. Pretend I was going up on a roof for some sun, you know? Then I’d use the pillow to muffle the sound of the glass when I broke a window. I’d look around the pad fast and grab what I could and
pow!
—back down the fire escape with a radio, a camera, anything I could pass to a fence. Then I’d shoot some smack and nod off, man.”

“I get it,” Tucker said.

“But don’t get me wrong, my head was messed up then.”

The living room was trimmed with holly and pine branches, and there was a tall tree with blue lights, blue bulbs, and silver tinsel. Mrs. Hocker was playing the piano and singing, “Hark! what mean those holy voices,/Sweetly sounding through the skies?” Mr. Hocker was sitting beside her on the piano bench, sipping champagne. Dinky was pulling Nader away from the poinsettia plant on the coffee table. Natalia was on the couch, and when Tucker walked in, she parted the cushion next to her and smiled.

Tucker walked across and sat down. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said, and then he looked under the tree. There in a row were the three gifts he had carried over in his book bag.

“Lo! the angelic host rejoices,” Mrs. Hocker sang. “Heavenly alleluias rise.”

Marcus appeared with a glass of champagne for Tucker.

“Nurse it along, man. Only one apiece,” he said.

Mrs. Hocker stopped playing the piano. She said, “Tucker? Would you like to give Natalia her gifts now? I know she’d like to give you yours.”

Tucker looked at Natalia. “You go first,” he said.

“I only made you one,” she said softly.

“That’s all I made you,” he said.

“But there’s three gifts there.”

“I only made you one,” he repeated.

Natalia went across to the tree, reached behind it, and walked back, handing Tucker a small package wrapped in Noël paper.

“Christmas gifts should never be secret,” Mrs. Hocker said. “We should share our joy at Christmas.”

Natalia blushed.

“Joy, joy, joy,” Dinky recited in a bored voice.

“Open your gift, Tucker,” Mr. Hocker said.

Tucker tore off the wrapping. Natalia had made him a tiny doll wearing a gold paper crown and a royal blue paper robe, with cotton dotting it like small patches of white fur.

“It’s the prince,” Natalia said.

“The Prince of Peace,” Mrs. Hocker said. “How nice, Natalia!”

“It’s the Little Prince,” Natalia said to Tucker.

There was very tiny printing across the gold crown. No one seemed to notice that but Tucker.

“What a lovely gift, isn’t it a lovely gift, Tucker?” Mrs. Hocker said.

“Yes,” Tucker said. He could barely make out the words:
If you tame me, then we shall need each other.

Tucker was amazed. She had not only selected the very book which was responsible for their meeting, but the very words from that book, too.

“A lovely gift, a lovely thought,” Mrs. Hocker continued. “Dinky, if Nader eats that plant, we’re just going to have to have a talk about Nader’s future.”

“Nader and I don’t have a future,” Dinky said.

Marcus laughed appreciatively.

“Put some pepper in the plant,” Mr. Hocker said. “That’ll keep Nader away.”

“What a good idea!” Mrs. Hocker said.

Tucker turned to Natalia and whispered, “There’s an amazing coincidence I’ll tell you about. Remind me to tell you.”

“What are you whispering to Natalia?” Mrs. Hocker said, trying to sound light and merry, but sounding heavy and snoopy, instead.

“He’s probably discussing their relationship,” Dinky said.

Marcus laughed again.

Mrs. Hocker said, “Dinky, I know you
think
you’re amusing, but don’t test my patience too much, sweetheart.”

Mr. Hocker had gone to the kitchen, and returned with the pepper mill.

He began grinding pepper over the poinsettia plant.

“Now it’s your turn, Tucker,” Mrs. Hocker said.

Tucker said, “I made something for Susan
and
Natalia.”

“Oh my my my my my,” Mrs. Hocker said. “How formal we are. Susan. All right. Let’s see
Susan’s
gift first.”

As Tucker went across to the tree for it, Mrs. Hocker said to Marcus, “After Dinky opens her gift, Marcus, you fetch her another glass of water.”

“She’s drinking a lot of water, isn’t she?” Mr. Hocker said.

“It’s her own idea,” Mrs. Hocker said. “She wants to try a new diet. The Stillman Quick-Weight-Loss Diet. She has to drink eight ten-ounce glasses of water a day. I’m trying to help her remember.”

Tucker handed Dinky her gift. His mother had wrapped it, and tied it with a red bow. It was a small piece of black cardboard with white lettering and a yellow border. Tucker had shellacked it to make it look like a plaque.

Dinky unwrapped it and looked at it, frowning.

“It’s a line from a short story by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.,” Tucker explained. “A story in
Welcome to the Monkey House
.”

“What does it say?” Mrs. Hocker asked.

Dinky read it. “‘You are better than you think. A-one, a-two, a-three.’”

“The director of this high-school band used to tell the kids that, every time, he raised his baton,” Tucker said.

“Do you want your water now, Dinky?” Marcus said.

“Yes, get her the water,” Mrs. Hocker said.

For a moment, Dinky looked as though she were going to cry. She was probably thinking of P. John, remembering how P. John had said you’d never find Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., on welfare.

Tucker had gone to the library and searched through Vonnegut for a quote. He hadn’t done it to make Dinky sad, but to tell Dinky that P. John was there for Christmas, anyway, despite her mother and father. His presence was in the room.

“‘You are better than you think. A-one, a-two, a-three,’” Dinky repeated, and then she let out this great guffaw.

“It’s a strange sentiment for Christmas,” Mrs. Hocker said. “We shouldn’t be thinking how much better we are, but how blessed we are.”

“It’s a valid sentiment,” Mr. Hocker said. “We always tell our DRI members that they have to love themselves before they can love others.”

“Right on!” Marcus said, appearing with a ten-ounce glass of water for Dinky.

“I don’t think Dinky has any problem loving herself,” Mrs. Hocker said.

“Here’s mud in your eye!” Dinky held the water up in a toast to her mother, and drank it down chug-a-lug.

“At Renaissance we had this saying of Eleanor Roosevelt’s on our bulletin board,” Natalia said. “‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.’”

Marcus said, “What’s Renaissance?”

“We’re not going into that now,” Mrs. Hocker said.

“I don’t mind answering,” Natalia said.

“Natalia.
Dear
,” Mrs. Hocker said. “We don’t wash our dirty linen in public.”

“That’s not a good way to put it,” Mr. Hocker said.

Mrs. Hocker stood up and put her finger to her lips. “Hush, hush, hush,
everyone!
What is all this silly talk about feeling inferior, and being better than you think you are? We’re not conducting a therapy session, after all. This is Christmas!”

“I’m sorry if I started something,” Tucker said.

“I’m not sorry,” Dinky said.

“Dinky.
Sweetheart.
Thank Tucker for your gift and let’s continue. The Heights Carollers will be calling soon.”

“Thanks, Tucker.”

“You’re welcome, Susan.”

“Now, Tucker, give Natalia her two gifts,” Mrs. Hocker said.

Tucker didn’t know what to do then, so he went over to the tree and got Natalia’s gift, leaving behind P. John’s gift to Dinky.

Tucker’s gift had been inspired by two things: the Balloon Game he played with Natalia, and the man he had seen in the Village giving away the balloons advertising the loan company. Tucker had bought seven balloons, one for every day of the week. He had written the beginning of a sentence on each one, with dashes after the words, for Natalia to fill in her own sentiments.

It didn’t look like much of anything when Natalia unwrapped the paper. Seven limp, deflated balloons.

“What
is
that?” Mrs. Hocker said.

“You have to blow each one up,” Tucker told Natalia.

Natalia picked out a blue one and blew it up.

It said, “I care—”

Natalia smiled. “I care about people who care about me.”

“You see,” Tucker said to Mrs. Hocker, “you fill in the sentence whatever way you want to.”

Mrs. Hocker said, “You do?”

“I care about very little in life,” Dinky said.

“I care about having something to eat soon,” Mr. Hocker chuckled.

Mrs. Hocker was frowning. “You have a strange turn of mind, Tucker.”

“It’s an inside joke,” Dinky said. “You just don’t get it.”

“It’s not an inside joke,” Tucker protested.

“I care about staying straight,” Marcus said. “Oh man, I don’t care about anything but keeping my head straight.”

“Horace,” Mrs. Hocker said, “everything is set up for the buffet. Carry the dishes into the dining room, and the girls can serve everyone.”

“There’s one gift left under the tree,” Mr. Hocker said.

Tucker didn’t see any way out. He said quietly, “That’s for Susan.”

“Another gift for our Dinky?” Mrs. Hocker questioned him.

Tucker felt his face get warm. “Yes,” he said. He went over and took P. John’s gift from under the tree, and handed it to Dinky.

“It’s not exactly from me,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Mrs. Hocker said.

“It’s not from me.”

“I know who it’s from,” Dinky said. She held it as though someone were about to pry it away from her.

Mrs. Hocker just sat there with this tight little smile. “Very well, Dinky. Open it.”

“I don’t want to open it here.”

“
Open
it, sweetheart. It’s perfectly all right.”

“It’s a book, that’s all,” Dinky said. “I’ll open it later.”

“Dinky, we all know it’s a gift from your friend P. John Knight. Now, open it. Your father’s hungry, and the Carollers will be by soon.”

Dinky took her time pulling the ribbon and carefully undoing the Scotch tape at both ends. Then she slid the book out from its wrapping.

It was a copy of
Weight Watchers Cook Book
by Jean Nidetch.

“Oh my my my my my. Isn’t
that
romantic,” Mrs. Hocker remarked sarcastically.

“Helen,” Mr. Hocker said softly, “don’t.”

Marcus began blowing up the six other balloons for Natalia.

Dinky still sat there looking at the book, saying nothing. Her head was bent, so Tucker could not see the expression on her face.

“I’ll get the food ready,” Mr. Hocker said.

“I think I see a card peeking out from the pages,” Mrs. Hocker said. For some reason, Mrs. Hocker seemed peculiarly pleased.

Dinky became resigned to what her mother was going to make her do. Mechanically, she took out the card. It was enclosed in a sealed envelope. She looked at it awhile, then she leaned across and handed it to her mother.

“Do you really want me to read it for you?”

“You might as well.”

Mrs. Hocker ripped the seal and pulled out the card. She read it to herself with that same slight smile tipping her lips. Then she said, “If says: ‘Inside of every fat person, there’s a thin one wildly signaling to be let out. … Here’s to our thin selves, Susan. P. John.’”

“That’s neat,” Natalia said. “That’s really neat.”

Dinky didn’t say anything.

Mrs. Hocker said, “It’s an appropriate sentiment, and it’s an appropriate gift. I quite approve.”

“I’m glad you do,” Dinky muttered.

“You see now, Dinky, why that gold watch was way out of proportion to the occasion?” Mrs. Hocker said.

Dinky didn’t look up. She didn’t answer. Marcus stopped blowing up the balloons. You could hear a pin drop. Dinky’s face was very red.

Mrs. Hocker said, “You would have made a fool out of yourself, Dinky. I’m not trying to embarrass you. But you
and
your friends should appreciate the fact that I
do
know what’s proper, and what isn’t.”

Mrs. Hocker glanced in Natalia’s direction. “Do
you
see that I’m right, now? I know you didn’t see it last night. You thought I was very hard on Dinky. But this
friend
of Dinky’s—and that’s
all
he ever was, a friend—was primarily interested in her weight problem.”