CHAPTER 21

That night Al pushed her dinner around on the plate. Then she asked to be excused from the table. “I don’t feel so hot,” she said. “My stomach feels peculiar. Maybe if I lie down I’ll feel better.”

“How about some bicarbonate of soda?” my mother suggested. Al made a face. She hates bicarbonate of soda.

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

After dessert my father said he was going to play poker with his friends at Mr. Alvord’s in 14 F.

“I feel lucky tonight,” he said, kissing my mother. “If I win the pot, I might even spring for another night on the town. Keep your fingers crossed, girls.”

I asked my mother if she felt like a game of Monopoly. If worse came to worst, we could always let Teddy play. It’s better with more people. Except he always breaks down and kicks the chair and snuffles like he’s coming down witn a cold when he doesn’t get Boardwalk. Teddy is a very poor loser.

“Not tonight,” she said. “I can’t concentrate on all those big real estate deals when it’s this hot. Let’s talk. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Al’s mother said she can never repay you and Dad for your kindness,” I said. “When we went to see her this afternoon, that’s what she said.”

“I’m sure she would do the same if I needed her,” my mother said. “Bread cast upon the waters. How is she? How did she look?” So I told her about Al’s mother getting teary when she told Al she was proud of her for standing by her. I told her about Mr. Wright depressing Al’s mother with his cheerfulness. I also told her about the nurse saying, “We certainly did ourselves proud today.” My mother likes to hear these little details.

“Poor woman, she’s been through a bad time,” my mother said. Then I told her about going out to the restaurant with Al and Dad. I told her what we’d had to eat, about the cute waiter, about the kid at the next table with her father and his girl friend. And that the kid wanted to know where my mother was, and I thought she thought my mother was off somewhere getting a divorce and that I was lying when I said my mother was in Connecticut. My mother got a good laugh out of that.

“That was nice of you to share your father with Al,” she said. “I can remember, when I was your age, going somewhere alone with my father, which didn’t happen very often, was a special thing.”

I told her what Al had said, thanking me for making room for her. “I thought that was nice of her to say that,” I said. “Dad was terrific. He even told Al it wouldn’t have been as nice without her there. That’s what he said when she thanked him. I must admit I thought that was going overboard a little,” I said. “It would’ve been perfect with just him and me, but that’s what he said. I didn’t mind too much. I knew what he meant.”

“Your father is a very kind man,” my mother said. “I’m sure he had a pretty good idea of what Al was going through, what with her mother in the hospital and her having to postpone her trip. That must’ve been a tough decision to make.”

“I bet she’ll never forget that night,” I said. “I know I won’t.”

“Your father told me he’d never enjoyed the company of two young women so much,” my mother said.

“He did? He really said that? He called us women?”

She nodded. “He did. And he also said he was proud of you and the way you helped Al over the rough spots. He said you were made of good stuff and that he was proud you were his daughter.”

I was flabbergasted.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” I said.

“Because that’s not his way. He would tell me but not you. I thought I’d pass it along.”

Long after I’d gone to bed I thought about that Al’s mother was proud of her for the way she’d stood by her Now my father was proud of me for the way I’d acted. Boy That was pretty nice. I tried to remember if my father had ever been proud of me before. I don’t think he ever had. At least if he had been, I didn’t know about it.

The next morning Al was already out of bed when I woke up. She was in the kitchen getting breakfast for everybody.

“I’m keeping busy today,” she told me grimly. “So I won’t think what day it is.”

It was the day she was supposed to go to the farm. Right this minute she should be taxiing down the runway on her way to the farm, the barn dance, the homemade ice cream, never mind Louise, the boys, her father. And Brian. That was a lot of stuff to give up.

Then Al’s mother called. She was thrilled. A man she knew in Small Appliances had heard she was sick, and he had called her to offer her the use of his beach cottage on the Jersey Shore. He and his wife were going to Toledo to see their grandson. So she and Al could go there after she got out of the hospital. Wasn’t that great?

“Yeah, that’s great,” Al muttered. “But I know her. Give her a shot of sea air and she’ll start making noises about going back to work. I’m going to have to crack the whip, tell her what she can and can’t do for a while. You’ve got to watch her.”

“That’s neat,” I said. “You’ll have a real vacation.” I tried not to sound wistful. She gave me a piercer.

“Maybe you could come along with us,” Al said. “I’ll ask.” I thought about that. I would love to go to the Jersey Shore. But not this time. This was Al’s time for her to get to know her mother better, to take care of her and for them to relax, just the two of them. I knew I’d be in the way. People have to have time to themselves. Last week I wouldn’t have known that. It seemed to me I’d matured a lot in a few days. I have to live up to my father’s pride in me.

“Don’t ask her,” I said to Al. “Don’t put her on the spot. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“What wouldn’t be fair?” Teddy hung around, watching us.

“Why don’t you go play with your friend Hubie?” I said. I hate it when he hangs around with his mouth hanging open like that.

“Hubie’s away.” Teddy picked at a scab on his knee until part of it came off. He ate the part he’d pulled off.

“Stop that!” I shouted. “That’s disgusting!”

“You ever eat a scab?” he said nonchalantly. “It doesn’t taste bad. Sort of like fried chicken. Not the kind your mother makes. The kind you eat at home. I mean the kind you buy at a fried chicken restaurant.”

“Nice, Ted,” Al said. “Very nice.”

“All it is is your own dried skin,” Teddy said, chewing. “Hubie asked me to visit him.”

I turned. “When?”

“Next week. His mother said he could have a friend and he picked me. I just got home and now I’m off again.” Teddy lifted both hands, palms up, and smiled complacently at us.

“Close your mouth,” I ordered. “You’ll catch a lot of flies that way. They might get stuck in your throat and you’d strangle to death.”

“Hubie’s house is right on the ocean,” Teddy said in a sugary voice. “All we do is fall out of bed and onto the beach and into the ocean.”

I bugged my eyes out as far as they’d go and still stay in their sockets.

“You mean where they have those enormous waves? And those man-eating sharks? That ocean?”

Teddy ducked his head and sucked nervously on what was left of his scab.

“And that undertow!” I cried. “I’ve heard tales of that undertow, how it can pull an experienced swimmer miles down the beach. How it takes people out to the middle of the ocean, practically to Portugal. I wonder if Mom knows about that undertow. If she knew, she probably wouldn’t let you go. I better go tell her,” and I started toward the door.

“Quit it!” Teddy howled. “You’re just jealous! If someone asked you to go to the ocean, boy, I bet you’d break a leg getting there. That’s all you are is jealous.” He left in a huff.

He hadn’t been gone more than a couple of seconds when I said in a loud voice, “You never did tell me what an all-in-one is, Al. Or a C-H-A-S-T-I-T-Y belt either.”

There are two things you can be sure of when it comes to Teddy. One is that he’s out there eavesdropping. Two is that when you spell a word out, he’s absolutely sure it’s something he’s not supposed to know. That gives him fits. I figured it was time for him to have a few fits. Going away twice in one month while I sat home twiddling my thumbs.

“Well,” Al said slowly, tugging at her skirt, “an all-in-one is …” and she let her voice dangle in midair.

“I know!” Teddy came screeching around the corner. “Let me tell! Let me tell!” he hollered.

Al and I rolled our eyes at each other.

“O.K., Ted,” she said, “tell us.”

Teddy planted his feet wide apart and locked his hands behind his back as if he were about to recite a long poem.

“This oughta be good,” Al murmured.

“An all-in-one,” Teddy explained, “is when a guy hits the golf ball and it goes VROOM!” Teddy is big on sound effects. “It goes flying through the air with the speed of light and it lands smack in the hole. Smack into this tiny little hole with the flag sticking out of it that he’s aiming for. That’s what they call an all-in-one,” Teddy said. He stood back, studying our faces, waiting and watching our reaction to his story.

A stunned silence fell.

“So that’s what an all-in-one is,” I said at last.

Teddy’s eyes darted from Al’s face to mine, then back to Al’s. “How about it, Al?” he asked her. “Isn’t that right?”

She went over to him and put her hand on his head. “Ted,” she said, her voice filled with emotion, “when they made you, they threw away the mold.”

Teddy’s lips curved in a tentative smile.

“That’s right,” he finally said, deciding Al wasn’t pulling his leg. “They made me and they threw away the mold. You said it.” He gave Al a huge thump on the back that made her eyes water.

“You said a mouthful, baby!” he shouted. “Don’t give me no flak, either, baby!” and he sailed out of the room on his way to conquer the ocean and the undertow and the sharks.

“All-in-one, hole-in-one, quelle différence?” Al said philosophically.

When I was absolutely sure he was gone, I said to Al, “Just exactly what is an all-in-one?”

“A foundation garment,” she told me, “worn by ladies with full figures. To keep them in shape.”

“Who wears them?”

“Some of my mother’s customers,” Al said. “Ladies who buy Better Dresses. Who else?”