me in a plastic chair, barefoot and fanning herself with a newspaper, which she said she liked to read because it was important to be educated to the goings-on. She turned to gaze up at me. “How come you and Miss Troo ain’t been by lately?”
“We been busy.” I wanted to tell Ethel how Rasmussen was trying to murder and molest me and I hadn’t felt much like coming by since she lived right next door to him. But as Mother always said, there was a time and place for everything. “How is Mrs. Galecki feeling?”
“She’s been askin’ for you. And so has Mr. Gary.”
“Mr. Gary’s here?” I asked, excited.
Mrs. Galecki’s son, Mr. Gary Galecki, lived in California and would come and see his mother every summer. The last time he was here he played old maid with me and Troo for over two hours out on the screened-in porch and that made Troo say that she thought Mr. Gary especially must like kids because damn, you couldn’t hardly get a grown-up to do anything with you at all. Mr. Gary Galecki was another good egg.
“Mr. Gary’s feelin’s are real hurt that you and Miss Troo ain’t stopped by to say hey.” Ethel looked scrumptious today. She had on a little straw hat with creamy pansy flowers and her dress was lemon colored and made her chocolate skin really stand out quite nicely. That’s why Ray Buck was looking at Ethel the way he was when he brought her back a cup of iced tea. She really did look good enough to eat. Ray Buck could see we were visiting so after he gave Ethel her drink and a wink, he moved over to the side with his smooth walk and lit up a cigarette with a snap of his lighter.
“We’ll come by real soon, I promise. Troo was just tellin’ me today how much she was looking forward to seeing Mr. Gary.”
“All right then, I’ll tell him he can be expectin’ you.” Ethel took a long drink out of her cup and then moved around in her chair a little to get comfortable because she believed in being as comfortable as possible at all times. Life had enough uncomfortable in it, she always said.
“Are you little gals bein’ careful? I been readin’ in the newspaper that there’s a crazy man out there and I heard tell that somebody grabbed at you over at the Fazios’ yard the other night. You best pay attention when you’re out and about.” Ethel sounded like she knew what it meant to be grabbed at. “Alls I gotta say is thank the Lord that Mr. Rasmussen lives next door to me. Gives me a feelin’ of such safety.”
Should I tell her? Shouldn’t I tell Ethel, my dear Negro friend, how very smart she was about certain things like how to take care of sick people and how to make the best blond brownies and how she had the singing voice of all the cherubs in heaven, but that she was wrong, dead wrong, about Rasmussen?
I looked out over the crowd while I was deciding about that and spotted Troo’s Statue of Liberty torch. She was talking to Uncle Paulie, who probably wasn’t working today at Jerbak’s Beer ’n Bowl setting up pins for one dollar and ten cents an hour because the lanes were closed for the Fourth like everything else was. The other thing Uncle Paulie did to make money for himself and Granny was collect soda bottles out of people’s garbage cans and take them to Delancey’s Corner Store. Mrs. Delancey gave him two pennies for the bottles and Uncle Paulie always counted them real carefully, like maybe Mrs. Delancey was trying to gyp him.
Uncle Paulie was looking at the ground and pointing at something. Troo bent down and handed it to him, and then he ran around her and put his hands over her eyes. I could see his mouth moving. I knew he was saying “Peek-a-boo.” Troo pushed his fingers off her face and ran.
“Did you hear what I said, Miss Sally?”
“Pardon me?” I had to use manners around Ethel or she would get after me.
Ethel sighed, and when she did her bosoms went up and down just like Artie Latour’s Adam’s apple. “I said you and Miss Troo should come over to see the puppy that Officer Rasmussen got. I know how Troo is still missin’ that Butchy dog of hers.” She had probably told him about how we had to leave Butchy out on the farm. Rasmussen probably bought that puppy to trick me into trusting him. It was common knowledge that me and Troo had a fondness for animals of all kinds.
“What happened to Officer Rasmussen’s wife?” I asked before I had even figured out I was gonna do that.
Ethel turned quickly back toward me. “Dave Rasmussen don’t have a wife. He’s a bachelor man.”
“Why do you think he doesn’t have a wife?” I was swinging my feet back and forth up in that tree. I was getting nervous now, talking about Rasmussen, because I already knew why he didn’t have a wife. Rasmussen didn’t like wives. Rasmussen liked little girls. From up in the tree crook, I could see what everybody was doin’. Troo had found Willie. They were holding hands, walking toward the gully that led down to the Honey Creek.
Ethel said, “Come down here, Miss Sally. This twistin’ and turnin’ is givin’ me a pain in my neck and Lord knows, I don’t need another one of them.”
I always did what Ethel told me to do so I hopped out of the tree and landed on the grass next to her. She ran her hand down my hair and told me it reminded her of a bag of just picked cotton.
“You know, my mama, she died young,” Ethel said quietly. “It’s a sad thing when a woman gets sick and dies ’fore she’s done doin’ her mothering. It just ain’t right and not in the order of things. So you say a lot of prayers that your mama gets better, okay?”
I nodded and then Ray Buck came over and said, “Time to take a stroll over,” and pointed toward the zoo. They were going over to see Sampson because that was what everybody liked to do over there. Admire the King of the Jungle.
“I’ll see ya later, Miss Sally. Maybe at them fireworks.” Ethel stood, pulled her lemon dress down and smiled at Ray Buck when he offered her his arm. “You give my best to Miss Troo and tell her that Mr. Gary brought along his old maid cards and he’s a-rarin’ to go.”
“You say hello to Mr. Gary for us and you can count on us this week to help you with Mrs. Galecki. I have a new book from the library with some beautiful pictures I think she’ll like. It’s called
Ethel grinned and said, “Why didn’t nobody tell me that somebody done wrote a book about me?”
Ray Buck started laughing so hard he had to clear his throat and spit.
I didn’t get the joke until the two of them were walking on the path over toward Sampson, and then thought I better get down to the creek and get Troo because they just announced that the sack races would begin in five minutes. I’d tell Ethel later that was a good one.
Mary Lane, who I think musta been on her third or fourth Eskimo Pie, because she had four of those sticks lined up in front of her, called me over and said, “Take these and give ’em to your uncle Paulie so I can put that in my charitable works story.”
Everybody in the neighborhood knew about Uncle Paulie and his Popsicle sticks. Just like everybody knew that Mrs. Goldman wouldn’t ever wear the color gray and Ethel wouldn’t drink Coca-Cola unless she could drop peanuts in it and that Mrs. Latour was not going to have any more kids because she’d gone into the hospital and had an operation where they took all her insides out and threw them away.
“Yeah… okay,” I said, picking up the sticks. Mary Lane didn’t want to give the sticks to him herself because Uncle Paulie was so odd. The way he always walked with his head down like he was searching for something. And the way he talked, which was real slow and sometimes didn’t make sense. And he also smiled too much, particularly at stuff nobody else smiled at. Like at that dead bird I found in Granny’s backyard. Before he had the accident and got his brain damaged, he hardly ever smiled. Granny used to warn me to steer clear of him, to not get on Uncle Paulie’s bad side because “That boy can get his Irish up.” The way she said it, I could tell she was afraid of her own son.
I stuck Mary Lane’s sticks in my pocket and felt like a bad Catholic for sometimes not liking my own uncle, so I made up my mind to go look for him. But first I wanted to cool down with Troo and make sure she wasn’t throwing anything at Greasy Al.
“Three minutes… three minutes, everybody, until the sack races… find a partner,” came over the loudspeaker.
Everybody was laughing and eating and sweating and the sun felt so scorchy, like if we stayed out in it long enough we’d all melt like ice cream and there’d be nothin’ left of us to see but people puddles.
I ran into Nell on my way to the creek. She seemed a little drunk because she was acting way more nice than Nell usually acted in the morning, or anytime really. She even hugged me, which was not something Nell generally did. But then she cried a little. When Eddie brought her over a cup of root beer, she started laughing again real quick. Clearly, Nell was going crazy. (Well, she certainly had the hair for it.)
I stood on top of the hill and looked down at the creek. Kids were hopping across the rocks and sometimes
