The Visitors
The week after the funeral, we had a lot of visitors. Women on our street came by with all kinds of food. Father Dankewicz came with some church people, too.
“Here, Wanda, give this to your mother.”
“You’re a good daughter. We’re praying for your family.”
One day Mr. Podorozny and Anna came by. Mr. Podorozny brought us a whole box of groceries.
“Tell your ma and pa if they need anything, just send down.”
“Here, Wanda. For you,” Anna said. She gave
me a big sack of penny candy. I didn’t even want it, but I took it because I could tell she felt bad.
It was like a dream. And I was there, but I wasn’t. It was like I was sick with the flu, and I wanted my mother to take care of me. But she couldn’t. Nobody could. Everyone was too sick to take care of anyone else.
After the funeral, Pa went to the cellar and stayed there. Victoria cooked his food and took it down to him. Ma would get up every morning and sit in the rocking chair by the stove, and Victoria would make her a cup of tea. Ma would rock and sing. She’d sing that song about angels and children and then cry and cry.
Victoria would turn on the radio. “Ma, let’s hear some music. Listen—it’s Benny Goodman’s Orchestra! You like him.”
“No, no radio today.”
Then Ma would shuffle back to the bedroom for the rest of the day. After a while, she didn’t bother getting out of bed at all.
Victoria stayed home mornings with us, and afternoons
she went to work at the Harringtons’ house. She’d leave me with chores to do—awful chores. Wash the woodwork. Scrub the bathroom. Iron the clothes. Make three or four trips to the cellar for coal. I’d pass Pa on the stairs. He’d be sitting there with his head in his hands, just looking at nothing in the dark.
“Come up, Pa,” I’d say.
He wouldn’t answer.
“I smell whiskey in the cellar,” I told Victoria.
“There’s no whiskey. You don’t even know what whiskey smells like,” Victoria said.
It smelled like whiskey to me.
“You have to go back to school,” Victoria said one morning. She was cutting noodles out of the dough she’d just rolled.
“No!” I said. I didn’t want the kids to look at me funny. I was afraid they would treat me funny. I didn’t want anyone looking at me like that. “No!”
“Yes, you have to go back! It’s time.”
“No!” I said.
“Listen, if you don’t go to school, the truant officer will come get me and put me in jail. Then who will support this family? Well?”
“Leave me alone!” I said. “Are you the boss lady now?”
“I have enough to cope with!” she yelled at me. “I don’t need a fresh-mouth sister giving me trouble!”
“I can’t go, Victoria. Please,” I pleaded.
Victoria bowed her head, and I saw tears roll down her cheeks. “I can’t take any more of this. He was my Walter, too.” Then she started flinging noodles all over the place. “I can’t take any more of this!” she shrieked.
Noodles stuck to the clock. They hung from the window shades. They clung to my clean woodwork. Then she threw the heavy mixing bowl against the wall, and the bowl broke in half. She ripped off her apron and fled to the bedroom.
I heard her slamming bureau drawers, and in a little while she came out very dressed up. She was wearing the high heels Mrs. Harrington bought for her. She stomped across the kitchen, squashing
noodles under her new shoes. She left, shutting the door hard behind her.
I looked around the kitchen and sighed. Noodles everywhere. I bent down and started cleaning up the mess.
Some time later Victoria returned with Father Dankewicz and Pa’s cousin Chester. I was glad I had cleaned up the kitchen. The two men went downstairs to talk to Pa.
Suddenly there was a lot of shouting in the cellar. Pa was getting louder and louder.
“Calm down. Calm down,” Chester said.
Next there was a big crash! Victoria and I ran down the stairs. Chester was sprawled on the floor.
“Pa! Pa!” I screamed. I grabbed Pa’s arm. He tried to shake me off as I clung to him.
Father Dankewicz put his hand on Pa’s shoulder. “Mr. Malinski, we’re here to help,” he said. “Let us help you.” He nodded at me. “Please let us help you and your family.”
Pa looked down at me and then covered his face with his hands. He stood quietly and sighed.
“Take her, Victoria,” he said. “Go upstairs.”
“You come, too, Pa,” I begged.
“Go on, Wanda,” Chester said. “We’ll talk with your pa. Everything will be all right.”
Victoria led me away and got me started washing the dishes.
After a while, Father Dankewicz and Chester came up. They had Pa with them! Pa washed and changed, and the three of them left the house. Pa came back just before supper. He was smiling.
“I have a job,” he said. “I have a job, Rosalie!”
Walter’s friend Bob at City Service had hired Pa to help fix cars. “I have a job!”