Sugar House (9780991192519) (24 page)

"My mother's not home. She went to Eastern
Market to buy some lamb butter for Easter. I don't understand… Did
Uncle Alexy get hurt at the factory?"

"At the factory? No," he said with a puzzled
look on his face, "he died of pneumonia in France." Aunt Hattie let
out a loud wail. Her upper body fell over her knees and her
forehead touched the floor as she moaned and cried. Joe looked at
his aunt and back at the soldiers. Uncle Alexy wasn't in France.
His father was. All the blood poured from his face as he came to
the realization of what had occurred.

"Oh damn. We got the wrong house" was the
last thing he heard as the shorter man, a sergeant, rushed to grab
Joe before his body fell to the floor.

Joe regained consciousness a couple minutes
later. He was lying on Aunt Hattie's couch with a cold rag on his
forehead. Aunt Hattie's mothering instincts had finally beat out
her grief, and she was patting his cheeks trying to bring him
around. The two officers were standing in the hallway nervously
whispering and looking over at Joe and his aunt.

"Joe, do you think you can speak?" Aunt
Hattie asked in Polish. Joe nodded and weakly said yes.

"How long has your mother been gone?" Joe
didn't answer. Aunt Hattie slightly shook his shoulders and
pleaded, "Please Joe, how long has she been gone?"

"About an hour," he whispered. Joe looked
over his aunt's shoulder and saw Marya, Pauline, and Emilia shrunk
together in the corner of the room. They'd been in the alley when
they heard their mother scream and had rushed into the hall as
Joe's body plummeted to the wood floor.

"Quick, Marya. Go get Frank and Stephan and
bring them over here. Don't tell them anything. You men will follow
me and we will wait for Blanca in her parlor. Hurry now! You've
already caused enough harm with your ignorance. Follow me." Aunt
Hattie's broken English was difficult to understand but the
officers comprehended her meaning and followed the husky woman out
the door.

Pauline grabbed Emilia's hand and sat on the
worn couch next to Joe. She reached her small hand over and
silently grabbed Joe's. Marya came in trying to balance a very
large Stephan on her hip while arguing with Frank. "Why do I have
to come to your dumb house?" He was badgering her. "Who are those
soldiers and why do they get to stay there and I have to come over
here?"

"Shh! Frank. Just sit here and I'll read the
comics to you and Stephan." Marya grabbed the newspaper and sat in
the rocking chair with Stephan on her lap. "OK Frank, which one do
you like best?"

"I like 'Mutt and Jeff.'"

"All right, I'll start with that one." Marya
read all the comics and then she went on to the children's story on
page eight. Then she read about the Easter preparations around the
city and even an article about the tavern owners protesting
Prohibition. Decidedly absent was any news of the war in her
recitation. When she was reading the society news, Joe heard
footsteps coming up the front steps of his porch. Quick and lively,
his mother was eager to show the boys the lamb butter she had
purchased for their Easter festivities. Marya stopped reading and
looked sadly over at Joe. Joe looked at her and looked away. He
couldn't take the look on her face.

"Are we done reading now, Marya?" Frank
asked. "Can we go home now? I want to play with my Lincoln
logs."

"I bet Stephan is hungry." she replied. "Are
you hungry, Frank? Would you like a ham sandwich?"

"Sure, but what about fasting?" he asked.

"God won't mind," she replied. "it's close
enough to Easter now." She led Joe's brothers into the kitchen, and
Emilia followed her, unsure of what was going on but aware enough
to know that she wanted to get out of the room. Joe realized he was
still holding his cousin's hand and let go. Pauline clasped her
hands together on her lap, and she sat still and silent as if she
were a small rock he could lean on if needed.

To Joe's surprise he didn't hear any screams
or moans from next door. He kept waiting for the other shoe to
drop. He and Pauline must have sat like that for a half an hour,
not moving or speaking, and still no noise came from the other
house. Eventually, he heard the sound of the soldiers' footsteps
walking slowly down the stairs. But still, no one opened Aunt
Hattie's front door. Pauline got up, went into the kitchen, and
brought Joe a glass of milk and a ham sandwich. She put it on the
table next to him and sat back down on the couch. Joe couldn't eat.
He couldn't move. "What was going on next door? Was his mother all
right?" He couldn't think about Ojciec right now, so he focused his
attention on his mother. Maybe he should just get up and go next
door. Maybe Aunt Hattie needed help. But he couldn't get his arms
to push himself off the couch, and he honestly wasn't sure if his
legs were still attached to his hips.

Marya came out of the kitchen followed by
Emilia and the boys. Joe took one look at his brothers and found
the will to get up. He stood at the edge of the couch and forced
his right leg to take a step. The left followed. "Pauline," he
said, "watch the little ones. Marya and I are going next door."
Marya looked at Joe and nodded in agreement.

"Pauline, there is some dough rising in a
bowl on the counter. Give it to Emilia and your cousins to play
with at the table," Marya said to her sister. Marya opened the
front door and stepped out onto the porch. Joe followed. A happy
whistling melody greeted their ears; Uncle Alexy was coming up the
walk, swinging his metal lunchbox, happy to be home from the
factory and looking forward to a three-day weekend. His bouncy step
stopped mid bounce as he looked up at his daughter and nephew's
faces.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Uncle Mikołaj" Marya replied softly. Uncle
Alexy ran up the steps and swung open the door to Joe's house.

"Hattie! Blanca!" he yelled as he tore
through the house looking for the women. "Where are they?" he asked
Marya.

"I don't know. Mother asked me to stay next
door with all the children while she told Aunt Blanca about…" she
couldn't finish.

"Why didn't the army come and tell her
themselves? Why did they tell Hattie?" His tone was worried and
desperate. He looked over at Joe and put his large hand on his
small shoulder.

"I guess they came to the wrong house," she
replied. "I was outside. I think Joe heard her scream and ran to
our house. I heard her scream too, but we were in the alley and it
took me longer to get there. When I ran into the hall, Joe was out
cold on the floor and mother was trying to wake him."

"Holy Mary, Mother of Jesus! The wrong house!
Hattie! Blanca!" he yelled again.

"We're upstairs, Alexy," Aunt Hattie called
down softly. "Tell Marya to watch the little ones and bring Joe up
with you. It's OK."

Joe climbed the narrow stairway behind his
Uncle Alexy. When they reached the top of the stairs his uncle took
his shoulder again and said, "Come on, Joe. It'll be OK." Joe
looked in the door of his parents' bedroom and saw his mother and
aunt sitting on the side of the bed. Joe walked across the worn
floor slowly until he was standing in front of his mother. He
looked at her face and was surprised to see no tears had fallen.
Her light blue eyes were as clear as they had been that
morning.

"Matka, are you all right?" he asked. His
mother didn't respond. She just kept staring out into the space
that was between Joe and herself—or perhaps the space that was
behind Joe. "Matka, please, are you OK?"

"She hasn't spoken in an hour, Joe. After the
soldiers told her about your father she said, 'I won't cry.' She
said, 'My Joe says I have to be brave and not cry,' and she hasn't
said a word since. I didn't want to leave her so I've been sitting
here waiting for you or Marya to come. Did you tell her not to cry
Joe?"

Cry
, thought Joe.
What's cry?
He stood there numbly for a minute. Aunt Hattie gave her husband a
look as if to say, Now they're both going to be catatonic? Uncle
Alexy shook Joe's shoulders and said, "Joe! Joe! Wake up. Snap out
of it! Are you all right?"

Joe heard his uncle's voice in the recesses
of his brain. Then he heard his father's last words to him as if he
were standing right there in the room: "Now, take care of our
family and don't let Matka be too sad while I'm gone, OK?"

Joe blinked and looked up at his uncle. "Yes,
Uncle Alexy, I'm all right. Matka, come on now. Listen, it's Joe.
Everything will be all right. I'll help you take care of Frank and
Stephan. And we have family here—Uncle Alexy, Aunt Hattie, Uncle
Feliks, and the cousins. We'll be all right, Matka. Please go ahead
and cry. It's OK, Matka. You can cry now. Ojciec won't be
disappointed if you cry. You can't always be brave. Please, Matka,
please for me?"

His mother's eyes did not focus on him. He
was worried it was hopeless. He looked up at his aunt and uncle
questioning what he should do, when he saw Aunt Hattie breathe in
slightly and let several tears pour down her round cheeks. Joe
turned back toward his mother and saw that one lone tear had
fallen.

Blanca reached out and gathered her eldest
son in her arms. She sobbed and sobbed.

The army shipped Mikołaj's body home with an
American flag draped over a plain wood coffin. The government paid
for a plot at Mount Olivet Cemetery, and the funeral, at St.
Josephat's, was held a few days after Joe's father took his last
ride across the ocean to rest in his adopted country. Fifty or so
neighbors, friends, and parishioners attended. The city had endured
many funerals during the long winter, and this fact accounted for
the small attendance. It was only natural that a person only
slightly acquainted with the Jopolowkis would choose not to attend,
to avoid reliving his own recent losses. However, a few men that
had worked with Mikołaj came, as did many neighbors from their
block. Even Dr. Levy came, which surprised Joe, because he didn't
think a Jewish person was allowed in a Catholic Church. After the
Mass, Dr. Levy took Joe aside on the sidewalk as they waited for a
streetcar to take them to Mount Olivet.

"Joe, I want you to know something, and I
think you are old enough to hear it, OK?" Joe nodded. "The death
certificate for your father said pneumonia?" Joe nodded again. "I
want you to know that I have examined these pneumonia cases a
hundred times this year—even after their deaths. Do you understand
what I mean?" he asked. Joe affirmed that he did, and the doctor
continued. "The doctors are calling the cause of death pneumonia
because they don't know what else to call it. The tissues in the
lungs are scarred and blue. Pneumonia doesn't make tissue turn
blue. Nothing does that we know of. It's the Spanish Influenza that
is doing that. I don't know why it does or what it means, but it's
that damn Spanish plague. Anyway, not that it makes a difference
but I thought you should know." Dr. Levy patted Joe on the back and
wished him good luck and said his condolences. Joe boarded the
streetcar with his family and waved goodbye to the doctor.

When they returned from the cemetery, Joe
went to his room while friends and family gathered downstairs for
the wake. He didn't want to talk to anybody, and he was tired of
everyone telling him how sorry they were. He knew they were sorry,
but what did it mean? Were they going to help pay for the food and
rent for the house? Would they help Matka find a job? Her English
was much better, but who would hire her and how much could she
earn? And who would watch his brothers while she was at work? Joe's
little errand job seemed foolish now, and he had to decide how to
earn more money to support them. He'd promised Ojciec that he would
take care of their family—and he would. He just had to figure out
how.

The train gathered speed as it headed out of the
city. The surroundings changed from towering buildings and dark,
smoky factories into a tranquil countryside. Joe leaned back into
the plush passenger seat and gazed out the window, his hand never
leaving its tight grasp on the stack of twenties in his pants
pocket. He was headed south on the Michigan Central Railroad toward
Grosse Ile. He closed his eyes and thought about the last time he
had seen the island. Only four years earlier, he and his family had
made the trek aboard the
Columbia
for a day's outing on
Boblo and had passed by the large island summer homes of the
wealthy.

Now twelve years old, he was traveling
alone—and not for pleasure. The conductor and the passengers would
not realize that, of course. To them he was a young boy traveling
to visit a relative in the country. They wouldn't know he had five
hundred dollars in his pocket to purchase liquor and transport it
back to the city.

***

The year or so after his fathers' death had been
difficult. Matka had found a job at a cigar factory but already the
burden of watching Frank and Stephan had taken its toll on Aunt
Hattie. She didn't complain, but Joe could see the beginnings of
resentment creep into their family life. And even with Matka
working they were not getting by very well. His mother's paycheck
was half of what Ojciec had earned, and she struggled to put food
on the table. The neighbors had helped in the beginning, but they
had their own troubles. The church contributed a weekly basket of
food and had paid for Joe's school tuition. But in the end it
wasn't enough for a young family of four. Matka had grown thinner
and Joe's brothers hadn't grown much at all. Joe continued his
errands and odd jobs, but the family couldn't seem to make ends
meet.

The winter had been very cold, and when the
price of coal skyrocketed Matka was unable to heat the house very
often. Stephan slept with their mother to share her body heat.
Frank returned to Joe's bed, and this time Joe didn't complain
about his brother's hot little body sidling up to him all night
long. Joe ran to the railroad tracks every morning before school
looking for coal that had dropped from the coal tenders passing
through the city at night, but he competed for the black rocks with
hundreds of children, and often he came home empty handed.