It was snowing again and Roy couldn’t wait to get out in it. Standing in line with the other second graders, all of them with their coats, mufflers, hats and gloves on, he was impatient to be released for morning recess. Roy had just told Eddie Gray that if the snow was deep enough they should choose up sides for a game of Plunge, when the teacher, Mrs. Bluth, called out to him.
“Roy! You know that you are not supposed to talk while I am giving instructions. You remain here while I take the rest of the class down to the playground.”
Roy stood still while everyone else filed out of the classroom. As soon as he was sure that they were on their way down the west staircase, Roy walked out of the room and headed in the opposite direction. Nobody was in the hallway. Roy walked down the east staircase to the ground floor and through the exit to the street. Snow was coming down hard and Roy put up the hood of his dark blue parka as he headed north on Fairfield Avenue. He could hear the kids yelling in the playground on the other side of the school.
At the corner of Rosemont and Washtenaw, near St. Tim’s, Roy passed an old man wearing a brown trenchcoat and a black hat who was holding a handdrawn sign that said, “I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. JOB, 30:28.”
“How old are you?” the man asked Roy.
“Seven,” Roy answered, and kept walking.
“Read the Bible!” the man shouted. “Don’t forget, like I did!”
When Roy entered the house, his mother was seated in front of the television set in the living room, drinking coffee.
“Is that you, Roy?” she asked. “I thought you were at school. It’s only a little after ten.”
“They let us out early today,” he said. Roy went over to where she was sitting. “What’s on?”
“The Lady from Shanghai. It’s a good one. Rita Hayworth with her hair bleached blonde. Do you think I’d look as good as a blonde, Roy?”
“I don’t know, Ma. I like you the way you are.”
She kissed him on his forehead. Roy never drank coffee but he liked the odor of it.
“I’m going to play in my room,” he said.
“Okay, honey.”
About half an hour later, Roy heard the telephone ring and his mother answer it.
“Yes, this is she,” she said into the receiver. “Uh huh, he is. He’s in his room right now. Oh, really. I see. Yes, well, that will be between you and Roy, won’t it? I’m sure he had a good reason. I understand. He’ll be there tomorrow, yes. Thank you for calling.”
Roy heard his mother hang up, then go into the kitchen and run water in the sink. A few minutes later, she appeared in the doorway to his room.
“Sweetheart,” she said, “I have to go out for a little while. Is there anything you’d like me to pick up at the grocery store?”
“No, thanks, Ma.”
“You’ll be all right?”
“Sure, I’ll be fine. I’m just playing with my soldiers.”
“Which ones are those?” she asked.
“French Zouaves.”
“Their uniforms are very beautiful. I’ve never seen soldiers with purple blouses before.”
“These Zouaves are from Algeria,” said Roy, “that’s why their faces and hands are brown. They fought for France.”
“And white turbans, too,” his mother said. “Lana Turner wore one in The Postman Always Rings Twice. Do you remember that movie, Roy? Where she and John Garfield, who’s a short order cook, kill her husband, who’s much older than she is?”
“No, Ma, I don’t.”
“Thanks to a tricky lawyer, at first they get away with the murder, but then they slip up.”
His mother stood there for a minute and watched Roy move the pretty Zouaves around the floor before saying, “I’m going now, honey. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Okay, Ma.”
“I’ll make us grilled cheese sandwiches when I get back,” she said, “and maybe some tomato soup.”
It wasn’t until after he heard the front door close that he took off his coat.
The next day at school, when he entered the classroom, Mrs. Bluth said, “Good morning, Roy. How are you feeling today?”
“Fine, Mrs. Bluth,” he said, and took his seat.
The other kids looked at Roy but didn’t say anything. Later, on the playground during morning recess, Eddie Gray asked Roy if he’d gotten into trouble for having left school without permission the day before.
“No,” Roy said.
“Your mother didn’t yell at you?”
“No.”
“Why’d you leave?” Eddie asked.
“I didn’t like the way Mrs. Bluth talked to me.”
A few flurries began falling. Roy put up his hood.
“What about your dad?” asked Eddie. “What did he do?”
“My father’s dead,” said Roy.
“You’re lucky,” said Eddie Gray, “my old man would have used his belt on me.”