CHAPTER 9

I was so tired I couldn’t sleep. I lay in the dark listening to the sound of the television. My father was watching an old movie. I thought about Thelma’s party, about the twerpy talk about the Riviera. The only good thing that happened was that I’d managed to keep my mouth shut and hadn’t let it slip that I thought the Riviera was in New Jersey. Boy, that would’ve been the end.

How come I never get to go anyplace? How come everyone I know has been somewhere or is going? Polly’s a world traveler, due to her father’s job. Al’s got big, exciting plans to go to the farm, have a barn dance, plus homemade ice cream. Even Teddy gets to go to Connecticut. Only I sit home. I lead a very boring life, I’ve decided.

When I woke in the morning, it was raining. I lay with my hands behind my head and listened to the rain slap against the windows. It was cooler already. Good.

“Those guys are certainly into culture,” I said aloud. Wait’ll I told Polly about last night. I’d write her today.

My father was fixing breakfast when I came into the kitchen. “How come you’re not at the office?” I said. “It’s late.”

“It’s also Saturday,” he said, expertly flipping his egg. He’s not so hot at cooking, but I will say he flips a mean egg.

“It feels like Tuesday,” I said.

“Suppose we splurge tonight and go out to dinner. How would that be?” my father said.

“Oh, Dad!” I hugged him. “That would be super. Just you and me. Wonderful! Just for that, I’ll clean the house before Mom comes home.”

“That’d be nice. And I’ll do the marketing. What do we need?”

“Everything,” I told him. “Milk, butter, eggs, meat, veggies. But if we’re going out tonight, you don’t have to buy stuff until tomorrow. The stores stay open on Sunday half day, I think.”

After I ate and got dressed, I decided to go over to Al’s. I’d write to Polly later.

“I’m over at Al’s if you want me,” I said. My father was concentrating so hard on making out the shopping list I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. I opened the door and turned around.

“I’m at Al’s, Dad,” I said again.

He looked up. “I thought Al was off and running to the bucolic fleshpots,” he said. That’s the way he talks sometimes. He gets it from his father. I’m used to it. You have to know what “bucolic” means, not to mention “fleshpots.” In our family we use the dictionary a lot. I’m always amazed at how much my father hears. He appears to be a man who lives in his own world. He also is hard-of-hearing. That’s what he says, but I’ve noticed he hears what he wants to. I hadn’t been sure he even knew Al was going to the farm.

“She leaves Wednesday,” I said. “For three weeks.”

“Um. Well, you’ll miss her, I know. Tell her for me I hope she has a bon voyage. I bet she’s excited.”

“She is,” I said. Until that minute I hadn’t realized how much I would miss Al. When my father said that, it hit me. I’d miss her like mad. Three weeks was a long time to be gone. One time Al had said something about asking her father and Louise if I could go with her to the farm. But she’d never mentioned it again. I knew she couldn’t take a perfect stranger there. Still, I kept hoping she’d bring it up again. But she hadn’t, and I knew, in my secret heart, she wouldn’t. Polly was still at the Cape. That left me. My two best friends would be gone. Boy.

“Dad, do you think we could afford to go on a vacation this year?” I asked.

“It doesn’t look promising,” my father said.

One thing about my father, he didn’t say, “We’ll see.” If there’s anything I hate, it’s when grown-ups say, “We’ll see.”

I rang Al’s bell. Every time I do that I’m glad we live so close. It’s great to be able to zap down the hall and ring your best friend’s bell.

She opened the door. She had on her Peanuts pajamas. She says she knows she’s too old to wear Peanuts pajamas, but she does, anyway.

“My mother’s sick,” she said. “I’m taking her to the doctor.” Her voice was different, dull and so low it was hard to hear.

“What?” I said. “The doctor?”

“I called him and he said to bring her over. He can’t come out to see her. He’s too busy. She’s getting dressed now.”

“What’s the matter with her?” I said.

“She’s got this cough,” Al said.

I nodded. “You told me.”

“She coughed all last night. This morning she said she thought she’d stay in bed. So I got scared. She almost never stays home from work. So I called the doctor. And he said, ‘Does she have any pain in her chest?’ and I asked her if she had any pain in her chest, and she said she had a little. So then the doctor said put her in a cab and bring her right over to his office. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Her voice didn’t change all the time she was talking. It was as if she were reciting words that meant nothing.

“You want me to go with you?” I said. “My father could go, if you want.”

Al shook her head. “No, thanks,” she said. “I can manage.” And slowly, softly, the door started to close, until it was only open a crack.

“You’re sure?” I said to Al’s eye, which was all I could see of her. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I heard her say. Then the crack disappeared and she went with it.