Authors: Diane Munier
“Don’t
cry Easy,” I say patting his back, then I smooth over his hair. It’s so long he
can’t go to school that way probably, that’s if he goes. But it scares me a
little to see him break down. He never does.
He
wipes his eyes on his shoulder. I go down on my knees. I’d do anything,
anything at all to see him smile again.
“They
could come home on my money, Easy. Then you could go to school. You can use
your money on the bills, huh? If you need more I have savings bonds and silver
dollars even. You just have to go to school.”
He
looks at me, and he blinks back those tears because I know he doesn’t want
them.
“Your
Granma would be mad,” he says, wiping his eyes on his dirty sleeve again.
“Granma
can’t know everything. That money is mine and she always says once you give
something it’s not yours anymore. You can use it to bring Cap and your Mom
home. Then you won’t be alone anymore.”
He
pulls me to him and we touch our foreheads and he cries some more. Easy has the
whole world in his hands, just like the song. But I put my hands on his, one
the side of my head, the other where he holds my arm. I am sending love into
him, just sending love.
I
am so so happy to be able to do something, really do it. Tomorrow morning I’m
marching to the bank with my passbook and pulling out that money.
“You’re
not alone, Easy,” I whisper. “Didn’t you know?”
I’ve
never been hugged as hard as Easy hugs me then. It’s a little hard to breathe,
but I’d never tell him to stop.
Darnay
Road 38
Saving
my money has always made me feel really wonderful. Well it hasn’t always made
me feel wonderful. For most of my life Granma was saving it for me and I hardly
knew. But she has shown me over the past year and now I have the passbook in my
desk instead of Granma having it in her roll-top.
And
it does make me feel so happy to be an American when I put my money in the bank
and watch the balance rise. If I was a Communist I probably couldn’t even have
my own money so God bless America and please don’t ever let Kruschev put one
big hairy toe on American ground. Amen.
So
I get dressed that Saturday morning at the end of the first week of school and
I ride my bike to Grand Avenue where the grocery and the show and the five and
dime and Wellman’s and my bank are.
Of
course Granma thinks I am at the library. And I did ride past the library so
I’m almost there, just further. I have my square purse in my basket and no
Little Bit. My square purse holds my passbook. I am not taking all the money
out, just thirty-six dollars. Easy has been very clear on this. He’s added up
and he figures this is all his mom and Cap need to get up here on the bus. So I
am going for thirty-six.
I
get to the bank and park my bike outside and go in. It feels strange to be here
without my Granma. I have never even thought of coming to the bank without her
before. But I know what to do. So I go to the round table and get a pink form
and fill it out. It’s not hard. I’ve never taken money out before cause I just
save my mad money in my pig. I rob her all the time, but I don’t touch my
passbook until now. Granma puts her mad money in a jar and buries it in case
the banks fail. I don’t know how they would ever fail or what it means. But
Granma has explained how I put money into my savings and of course I wanted to
use the pink forms right off and Granma said no, I had to use white. Pink are
for withdrawals.
So
here I am walking to the window with the pink paper in one hand and my passbook
in the other. My square purse is on my arm. It’s a metal box, its sides cut out
in a lacy pattern. It has a pearl top and handle. Fake pearl probably, but it
looks real. So it’s a little noisy when I set my purse on the counter and the
lady looks at me with her drawn on eyebrows that look surprised even when she
probably isn’t all that surprised.
I
give her the slip and my passbook and she looks at me. “Where is the adult on
this account, Viola Green?”
I
see Granma right away, at home sitting on the lounger drinking iced tea.
“Well
Granma isn’t here. There’s just me today,” I say.
“This
isn’t signed,” she says turning the slip front to back. “Does she know you are
taking this much money out?”
“Well
she’s across the street drinking a cherry soda so it’s okay. I’ll just take it
and be back.”
I
reach for it, and she gives it back to me.
“Thank
you very much,” I say, hastening to get out of there.
I’m
outside and ever so grateful they didn’t arrest me. Then I think no, I haven’t
done anything. But this is worse than returning my library books past the due
date even.
So
I look that slip over and see where I need to sign Granma’s name. She is parent
or guardian all right. I wondered about that but I thought she only signed it
if she was the one taking out my money.
I
get over to the lunch counter and get a seat. I order a cherry Coke cause I
need some energy. I’m moving back and forth on the chair and I look around and
there’s just another lady eating a patty melt. So I keep my purse on my lap and
get out the slip and my pencil. I lick the tip, look around again and set that
slip on the counter and sign Granma’s name in my very best penmanship. I’m
checking it over when the lady sets my cherry Coke right there practically on
my pink paper. I pull it out of the way really fast so she don’t see it. But
she doesn’t seem to care anyway. I count out my money and put it on the counter
and put the pink slip in my purse and my pencil. Lord my heart is
thumpity-thump like I stole something, but I never would.
I
take a drink and it goes down cold and fizzy. The girl comes back and swipes my
money into her hand and counts it. “What’s a kid doing by herself on this hot day?”
she says.
I
am taking another big sip and I have to break off and cough a little.
“N…nothing,” I say.
“All
right kid, just asking,” she says. Then she gets a rag from under the counter
and starts wiping the surface but she doesn’t move the napkin holder and I see
sugar all around it.
I
drink the Coca-Cola too quickly and when I get off the stool I burp on
accident. I look around but no one heard I don’t think. I get my purse then I
stroll along the aisle like I don’t have a care but all the little things that
fill the counters and usually hold mine and Abigail May’s attention for an
hour, I just pass those by now. I have something more important, and I wonder
if this is how it feels to be big.
I
put my purse in my basket and go to the corner and wait for traffic to thin out
then I run my bike across the street. I get across the bank’s parking lot and
burp about three more times, then I lean my bike against the building and get
my purse and in I go. There is a man at the window on the far side, and I don’t
want a man, but I guess I don’t have a choice cause it’s him or the eyebrows
and I’m just too guilty to go to her again. But before I can take a step there
is a hand on my shoulder and I look up and Lord a mercy.
Granma.
I
swallow another burp. “Hello Granma,” I whisper.
“Come
outside,” she says, and there is no hint of a smile not in her face or voice or
in the way she grips my arm and marches me right back out.
Darnay
Road 39
“Granma
I have to do it, I have to,” I say.
She
pulls me to Aunt May’s car and she opens the back door and I get in, then she
gets in.
“Georgia
Christine--I said to myself I can trust her, I know I can trust her. After all
she would not say she is going one place and be in another after the problem we
had earlier this summer when she was in the river while I thought she was up
the street being a good American,” my Granma says. I guess she’s talking to
Aunt May but she’s looking out the side window and away from both of us.
I
say, “But I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it. It’s mine. You said when you
give something it’s no longer yours so it’s mine.”
“Stop,”
Granma says. “You know it was wrong. I didn’t raise you to be confused.”
“Granma
I’m not confused,” I say, my eyes darting to Aunt May who is turned around in
her seat. “Aunt May you and my Granma just don’t understand.”
“You
were taking money out of the bank and Millie called me because she knew I never
would have allowed such a thing,” Granma says. “I have put that money in your
passbook for years. You were getting that money for Easy and you were sneaking
to do it.”
How
does she know that? Such a fierce need to protect Easy arises in me I shift my
feet and knees to face my Granma. “It’s not his fault. You don’t know, Granma.”
“Is
he in some kind of trouble?” Granma says.
Aunt
May is moving around, talking to herself cause I can’t make out what she’s
saying but it is something like, “Bringing children in this world…,” or
something.
“I
can’t tell you, I promised I wouldn’t, but it’s not his fault. It’s all my
idea. I have my own mind and my own words and my own brain-storms and my own
money,” I say.
Granma
is staring at me. “You are a ten year old child and you must ask permission
before you go getting this big for your britches.”
I
hate to think of wearing big britches or little britches gone high-water or
something. It’s just the dumbest thing to imagine.
“Granma
I have to get that money. Please. Please.”
“What
is it for?” Granma says.
I
fold my arms and bite my lip for a moment. “Well I just can’t say Granma. But
if you knew, you would say it’s okay.”
“All
the more reason to come clean because it would be wrong to take that money
without my say so,” Granma says.
“But
this is a special case. Please believe me Granma.”
“When
you can tell me what it is for we’ll see. For now you get on that bike and get
home.”
“Oh,”
I say. “You’ll let me ride home?” I can’t believe it.
“Yes
I will,” Granma says. “You need to enjoy this world while you can. It’s the
last you’ll be seeing it except for school or church for a very long time.”
I
am looking at her and she is looking at me now. There are cracks in her skin
but she has the prettiest kindest blue eyes. She’s ever so pretty, my Granma.
But she is about mad as she can be at me I think.
“You
can do whatever you want, Granma. I’ll stay inside for the whole year. I’ll
sleep on the floor and live on bread and water even. Just please, please let me
get that money, Granma.”
I
am crying now. “What? I wouldn’t do that, Granma. Golly you are just not
thinking that I hope. But Easy doesn’t have someone to love him like you and
me. He doesn’t have anyone to go to. No Aunt May,” I say that to May, “and no
Granma,” I say to Granma. “He’s just so so alone.”
Granma
looks at May.
“Why
couldn’t he come to us if he’s in trouble?” May says. “We’ve certainly been
good to the boy.”
“Yes
Ma’am. But Easy doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t know he can,” I say.
Granma
hands me a hankie. I have one in my purse but I can’t open that lest Granma
sees that pink slip. I wipe at my face but I don’t have time the words are
coming so fast. “If you don’t let me help him he’s going to be in so much
trouble. And he lost his dad and now….” I very nearly tell. I have to calm
down. It’s very hard. “He’s just a kid. And no one…there’s no one…no…no….”
“Georgia
Christine,” Granma nearly yells like she does when I get overly dramatic. But
I’m not dramatic now. I’m desperate.
I
fall against her. I am breathing so hard. If I fail at my mission then Easy has
no hope. None. I think I’ve told too much, but I can only keep trying now. The
bank closes at noon and I try to look at my Cinderella watch, but I can’t
concentrate when I’m crying. Well not so much. I wipe my nose again. “Please
Granma. Please. I’ll never ask for anything again. Not even for Christmas.”
“Hush
now,” Granma says and she pats my knee. I know she feels bad after she yells.
“If Easy talks to me and I see he needs that money I will give it to him
myself,” Granma says.
“Of
course we would,” Aunt May adds as if Granma has said they will both give money
to Easy.
“He’s
just so proud,” Granma says.
I
put my arms around my Granma and squeeze, squeeze, the way Easy did with me.
“Land
sakes Georgia, you’re squeezing me too hard.” She takes my arms away and makes
me look at her.
“Granma,
I told Easy I wouldn’t tell. I promised. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a
needle in my eye.”
“Oh
for heaven sakes,” she says.
“Please
let me get that money and please don’t ask any more about it. You can punish me
if you think you should and I won’t even fuss at all I promise, just please let
me get that money for Easy.”
“I
thought I made myself clear,” she says.
I
can tell she is sorry for me, but she just won’t budge.
“Well
say it again.” I need her to clarify.
“Easy
can talk to me…,” she looks at Aunt May, “to us. If he needs help we need to
know what for. Do you think I wouldn’t help him Georgia?”
It’s
one of those questions best not answered. I am regretful for what I’m about to
do. “Yes Ma’am,” I say. I do think she would help him. It’s just that he won’t
ask cause they could ship him to a home.
“I’ll
come on home then,” I say opening my door.
“Are
we clear Georgia?” she says.
“Yes
Ma’am.”
“Straight
home,” Granma says. “Sure you’re not too upset? We can put that bike in May’s
trunk I believe.”
I
speak to my dear granma before I close my door. “I will be fine Granma. I am
barely crying now,” I say.
“All
right. Straight home now.” She’s got the headache.
I
close the door and walk to where my bike still leans against the bank. I get
that far and watch as Aunt May pulls out of the lot with my Granma still riding
in the backseat. Granma looks back at me and I wave and put my purse in the basket.
Then I wait and look again and the car is gone down the street. I get my purse
back and go in the bank. I am suddenly not afraid at all. Eyebrows is busy with
an old lady. Goodie gumdrops. I walk to the man’s window. I set my purse on the
counter and get that pink slip.
“Hello,”
I say to the man.
“Hello
young miss. What do you need?”
I
lay the slip on the counter and he picks it up and reads it. He tells me
normally the slip should be signed in pen. But just like I thought my Granma
did not need to sign, only if she’s the one taking out the money. So that
Millie did not need to call my Granma. She just knew her is all. She tattled.
I
can’t believe when the bank man is counting out thirty six dollars with a
twenty dollar bill, a ten and a five and a one. It’s like Monopoly but all
real.
I
look around like I am robbing the bank. I nearly expect my granma to be
grabbing my shoulder again. And once I have that money stuffed in my purse, I
expect her and Aunt May to be in the parking lot. But they are nowhere around.
So I put my purse in the basket and I prepare to go straight home. Or I will go
straight home after I ride to Easy’s house and give him this thirty-six
dollars. Then I’ll tell him good-bye cause I’m probably not going to be seeing
him or anyone outside of my class or at the church for a good long while.
But
when you love someone you have to be willing to sacrifice.
And
I love Easy that much.