So that got me worried some more.
Then she patted me on the bottom and told me to go get dressed. I was still in my pajamas.
“What about you?” I said.
“Me, too.” She squashed out her Lucky.
I could come to the store with her as long as I wasn’t a pest, she said. But I was afraid Ralph would come back while I was gone and go out again. I told her we needed bread and vanilla wafers.
She said we didn’t
need
vanilla wafers.
Toby
Mr. Pappas across the street came out on his porch again, with his newspaper, and held
down
his thumb at me. Then he settled into his reclining lawn chair. That was a first, holding
down
his thumb. I guess the news isn’t good. I guess we’re all going to die.
Too bad we don’t have a fallout shelter instead of just a basement. That would be so nice. There’s this kid in my class, Allen Pelletier, his family’s got one. Picture this. The Russian missiles are on their way and everyone’s banging like crazy on the Pelletiers’ iron door:
—
Please! Help! Let us in! Oh, God! Oh, please!
Meanwhile the Pelletiers are in there opening a family-sized can of Del Monte apricots in extra heavy syrup.
—
Did you hear something?
—
Nah. Must be the wind.
And they all laugh.
But then
afterwards
, you know? When they came out? Probably wouldn’t be quite so funny.
I saw this
Twilight Zone
about a little bank teller with thick glasses taking his lunch break down in a vault so he could be alone and read, but they drop the bomb while he’s down there and when he comes out again everything’s all just rubble. He ends up feeling so lonesome he’s going to shoot himself. But then he sees this library with all the books spilled out, so now he’s all happy, happier than he’s ever been, because now he can spend the rest of his life reading in peace, which is all he ever wanted. But then, just as he’s sitting down on the steps with a nice fat book, his glasses fall off and break. Everything’s all blurry. He can’t see the print. He just sits there saying, “It isn’t fair...”
I felt so sorry for that guy.
“It isn’t fair,” he kept saying.
I was practically crying.
My mom says I have a tender heart. And you know what? She’s right.
Ralph
I missed the fly ball out to me because I was standing there smelling my glove.
Everyone was yelling my name and I took the glove away from my face and there was the ball coming down about ten feet away. I could have caught it easy if I saw it right off instead of standing there smelling my glove.
So instead of being an out, the third out, inning over, the guy ends up on second base, while the guy on third trots in with the tying run. Then the batter after that gets a hit and the guy on
second
scores. So now we’re
losing
because of me smelling my glove.
The next guy grounded out and we all went in to bat. Nobody said anything. They didn’t have to. I knew what they were thinking:
—
Nice going, Ralph.
—
Way to help the team.
—
No wonder your father drinks so much.
Lou
Garfield Goose
was finally on.
I like Frazier Thomas. He’s the guy who talks to Garfield. He has a big round friendly face like a cherry pie.
You only see Garfield’s head. He talks but it’s just his big shiny beak clapping together. Frazier Thomas knows what he’s saying though because he’ll say things back, like, “Oh, now you’re being silly, Gar.” He calls him Gar.
Garfield was all excited today because it was his birthday and all his friends were coming, Romberg Rabbit and Macintosh Mouse and everyone. Sometimes when Garfield gets excited he starts banging his beak on the ledge in front of him. So that’s what he was doing, banging his beak. Then one of his eyes came off.
I sat up.
Toby
My mom came heading up the sidewalk in her muumuu and babushka, step by step, all redfaced, huffing and puffing, ankles hanging over her shoes.
Poor thing.
She made it up the walkway, to the porch. Then she stood there, down at the bottom step, holding on to the railing with one hand, hanging her head, catching her breath.
“Lotta people?”
She nodded.
“Get a seat?”
She nodded.
“Father Clay?”
She shook her head.
“Rowley?”
She nodded.
“Good sermon?”
She nodded.
“Let me guess: ‘Pray for peace.’”
She looked up at me. “‘The whole
world,
’ Father said, ‘the whole
world
is holding its breath.’” She glanced at the sky. “Come in the house,” she told me, climbing the steps. “I want you to come inside.”
I laughed. “Ma, that’s not gonna make any—”
“We’re going to pray together.”
“Now
wait
a minute.”
“Please don’t argue with me.”
“I’m not. It’s just, I got all my stuff—”
“I’m so scared, honey.”
“All right, don’t start crying.”
She stood there with her chin—her
chins—
all a-quiver. “I’m so afraid,” she said.
“They’ll work it out,” I told her. “They always do.”
“I want you to come in the house, Toby. Now.”
“All right, look. Tell you what.”
“
No.
No deals. Do as I say.”
“I’m all set
up
here, Ma. I’ll have to bring all my boxes
back in.”
“I’ll help. Come on.”
“
Leave
it. Just...I’ll get it.
God.
”
Lou
Frazier Thomas said, “
Now
look what you’ve done, Gar. You’ve lost an eye.”
And he picked it up off the ledge. It was just cloth, just a little round piece of cloth, and he stuck it back on. But before he did, there was Garfield with only one eye. Where the other one should be, it was all just blank. Frazier Thomas said, “What will the boys and girls think?” Then they went back to talking about Garfield’s birthday party.
But Frazier Thomas looked like he was embarrassed. His big face looked all hot and blotchy, like he was still wondering what the boys and girls will think.
I thought it was okay. Garfield is just a puppet, I already knew that, so I thought it was fine. Except, it bothered me a little, the way it looked. Just for a couple of seconds, where his eye was supposed to be it was all just smooth and blank and Garfield had his beak wide open like he was thinking,
Oh my God, oh my God!
They were talking now about getting some carrots for Romberg Rabbit, for the party.
I got scared.
They kept wondering how many carrots they would need. Probably a lot, they said, because Romberg really loved carrots, that was the one thing he loved more than anything else, so they better make sure they got lots and lots, and I started thinking,
What if they don’t get enough? What if Romberg gets really mad? What if he goes crazy? What if he has a gun?
I knew that was a stupid thing to be scared about but I didn’t care, I just kept wishing my mom or Ralph would hurry up and get
back
here.
Toby
“We can stand, that’s all right,” I told Mom, and folded my hands to show her you can be just as religious on your feet. She agreed. I don’t think she really wanted to kneel. So we stood there in the living room side by side in front of the picture of Mary on a cloud with a slice of moon beneath her feet. I was hoping we could just run off a couple of quick Hail Mary’s and let it go at that, but Mom wanted to
talk
to Mary, personally, and I was supposed to repeat-after.
“Dear sweet blessed holy Mother of God,” she started.
And I said, “Dear sweet blessed holy Mother of God.”
“Please?” she said. “Don’t let us die? Don’t let them kill us?”
“Ma, don’t beg.”
“Re
peat
, Toby. No comments please.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where was I?”
“Begging for your life.”
“I was
praying
. There’s a difference.”
“Be that as it may.”
“Forgive my son, Mary. He knows not what he says.”
“Can we get on with this?”
She got on: “Blessed Mother, help us in this time of need? In this terrible crisis?”
She waited.
“Terrible crisis,” I said.
“Help our president. He is a good man, Mary—a Catholic.”
“As you know.”
“Help him to defeat the Russians? They’re trying to destroy us, dear Mother.”
“Trying to wipe us out.”
“They hate us, dear Lady, so much.”
“You can just
feel
it.”
“They hate us because we are good.”
“Let’s face it.”
“Because we are free.”
“They’re jealous, that’s what it
is.
”
“Help us to stop them, dear Mother.”
“To crush them, Mary. To flatten ‘em out.”
“All right, dear.”
“Like roadkill.”
“That’s enough.”
“Annihilate ‘em.”
“That’s
enough
.”
“Wipe ‘em off the face of—”
“Will you
stop?
”
I couldn’t. “I hate them, Mary! I hate them!”
“Toby...”
“Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em!”
“Sweetheart...”
“Kill ‘em all!”
She grabbed me in her big fat arms and held me tight, my face in her giant bosom. “Do you
see
, Mary?” she sobbed out. “What they’re doing to us? Do you
see?
”
Ralph
It was the last inning and we were still down by a run, thanks to me smelling my glove.
Our first guy up, Tommy Hampton, hit a line-drive single and everyone got excited. But the next guy, Ed Stanwyck, hit an easy fly to center field and everyone sat down on the bench again. But the guy after that, Larry Murphy, hit a double down the left field line and everyone was up and yelling again because now we had runners on second and third and if they both came home we’d win.
I was on deck. I was up after the guy up there now, Keith Abernathy.
Cavaletto on deck...
I was swinging two bats so when you swing only one it feels lighter.
Everyone on our bench was yelling for Abernathy to come through with a hit and win the game but I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t so
I
could be the one and make up for smelling my glove.
He hit a high pop-up to the first baseman.
Two outs.
So now they started yelling for
me
to come through.
“Come through, Ralph!”
“Come through!”
Cavaletto walks to the plate looking calm, looking confident, like he’s going to come through...
“It’s up to you, Ralph!”
It’s up to Cavaletto and he’s very confident, just look at him there, taking a couple of nice easy practice swings...
“Little base hit!”
“That’s all we need!”
“Come through!”
All right, folks, here we go, Cavaletto’s ready, all set, here’s the wind-up, heeere’s the pitch...he swings!
I fouled it back.
“That’s a piece of it, Ralph!”
“Now get the rest!”
Cavaletto gets back in his stance, takes a long deep breath...lets it out...all right, here we go, here’s the wind-up, heeere’s the pitch...he swings!
I barely ticked it.
“Only takes one, Ralph! Only takes one!”
“Come through! Come through!”
I quit doing the play-by-play and called on Jesus:
Please, Lord, help me come through? Will you? Little base hit here, that’s all, that’s all I’m asking.
Here it comes...
Lord, please?
Here it is...
I swung. I missed. Strike three. Game over.
I walked back to the bench.
Nobody said anything. Or looked at me.
They were going to start playing another one right away, but I grabbed my glove and headed home. Nobody stopped me.
I walked along the sidewalk like a zombie. I didn’t understand. How could I strike out? The pitcher was just lobbing it in. That’s all they do in these games, they don’t try and strike you out, they just lob it in. So I didn’t understand. I never struck out before. Nobody does. The pitcher just lobs it in.
Unless maybe
Jesus
had something to do with it.
Maybe He didn’t like me asking for His help in a baseball game, especially today. He was probably getting prayers from all over the country so the Russians don’t blow us up and here’s this kid praying for help in a pick-up game at the park.
He probably didn’t like that.
But He could’ve just left me on my own, you know? He didn’t have to make me strike out.
Thanks a lot, Jesus. Way to come through.
Lou
Frazier Thomas was waving goodbye boys and girls and Garfield kept clapping his beak together and his eye stayed on and the music was playing loud and bouncy and I stopped being scared and got down off the couch and went dancing around a little.
I like the Garfield music.
Then I went and picked up all the clothes off the floor in our room and threw them in the closet and shoved the door with both hands, hard, until it shut. Then I spread the blanket over the mattress so it was smooth, and tucked it underneath so it was tight, and put our pillows side by side.
And Ralph still wasn’t back.
So then I went out in the backyard with a big wet heavy towel and washed off the wagon so it was shiny red. On one side it says
Ralph + Lou Cavaletto
—Daddy painted it on. I even turned it over and washed underneath. Then I brought it out in the front yard, all ready to go.