Chapter Six

“Can I have my friend Al for supper?” I asked my mother, on account of she was whistling, which she only does when she is in a good mood, and also we were having spaghetti and meat balls, which I know is absolutely Al’s favorite food.

“Tonight?” she said. “A school night?”

I explained that Al was going to be alone. Her mother had a dinner engagement. My mother started to say something and then she dropped a meat ball on the floor. She bent over and picked it up and rinsed it off.

“Waste not, want not,” she said and threw it back in the pot. “Remember that, with the price of food what it is today. Your father works too hard to get the money to pay the bills.”

All this is true, if beside the point. All I asked was could I have my friend Al for supper.

“Mom,” I said, “you are a good woman.”

This usually gets to her.

“Get me the sugar, like a good girl, will you?” she said. Then she added a little of it, tasted the sauce, and added, “Yes, I guess Al can come for supper tonight. Put another place on the table.”

I ran down the hall to tell Al she could come. I had already told her I thought it would be all right and she’d said, “My mother left me a turkey potpie in the freezer and a whole quart of ice cream. Butter pecan. Maybe you can come and eat with me.”

The door opened before I even had a chance to ring.

“Come on over,” I said, out of breath. “We’re eating the minute my father gets home because it’s his bowling night. We’re having spaghetti. And garlic bread.”

“Wait,” she said. “I’ve got to comb my hair. It’s a mess.”

“You look fine,” I said.

Al changed her skirt and put on a blue sweater that I had not seen before.

“Is that a present from your father?” I said.

“Are you kidding? My father never gives me clothes. It’s from my mother. She picked it up on sale at the store. My mother buys all my clothes on sale. She gets the employee discount.” Al braided her hair while she held her rubber bands between her teeth.

“Come on, we’ll be late.”

“And who is this young lady?” my father said when we came to our apartment. He has only met Al about fifty times, but every time he gets up and shakes her hand and says the same thing.

She thinks he’s a riot.

“All right,” my mother said and my brother Teddy practically knocked us over to get to the table first. He is nine. He is very good in science. He plans to go to M.I.T. and be a bachelor when he grows up. My father says that is all right with him, but Teddy better plan on getting a scholarship.

“Lord, bless this food and give us humble hearts,” my father said and, just in time, I saw Al’s hand come away from her fork and fold itself with the other one in front of her.

“Pass the garlic bread,” Teddy said and my father gave him a dirty look.

“Ladies first,” he said and passed it to my mother, who took a piece and passed it to Al.

“Everything was delicious,” Al said to my mother when we were clearing the table. “Absolutely delicious.”

“It’s a pleasure having you here, Al,” my mother said. I have trained her not to say Alexandra. “A real pleasure. Come again soon.”

I walked Al back to her apartment but my mother had said to get back fast and buckle down to my homework.

“You want me to come in for a sec while you turn the lights on?” I asked when we got to the door. Once in a while when I get home before anybody else I don’t like to walk into the dark rooms with no one in them.

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said, fumbling for her key. She wears it on a chain around her neck, which causes her front to be sort of lumpy. “I always leave all the lights on when I go out.”

“What time does your mother get home from her dinner engagement?” I asked.

“Usually late,” she said, putting the key in the lock. “It’s neat. I can do whatever I want. Sometimes I watch TV until real late and slip into bed when I hear her coming.”

Her door opened and, sure enough, the hall light was on, and the one in the living room.

“It was great,” she said. “It was very delicious. Tell your mother for me.”

I said, “Sure. See you.”

“You know something?” she said. “I can remember when I was a little tiny kid and my father used to say grace. I can remember it clear as anything. It used to make me feel like I was a pilgrim or something. You know?”

I said, “Sure,” and then she clicked the lock and I went home.