December 5 – Dear Blessed Mother… Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. You know what neighbor I’m talking about. It applies to him, too.
I had never been to the Feeneys’ house, but I knew just where it was. Walking to school every morning we passed by their street. It was the second house on the left, a big house that stretched low along the ground and somehow managed to look like an elf residence, or the house of the Seven Dwarves. It was nestled among a grove of oak trees that created shade and gave it a cozy, fairytale look. The roof draped down like it was thatched, although it had regular shingles. The windows with lead in-between small panes of glass weren’t stained, just regular see-through with no color. The front lawn was trimmed, the paint had been applied within a reasonable amount of time; in other words, it wasn’t peeling. It looked like a normal house in any fine neighborhood.
I stood on the front stoop and put my finger on the red doorbell button. The sound echoed inside. I heard footsteps, then Teresa Feeney’s face peered through the lead glass windows, and she opened the door. Still dressed in her pink-pleated uniform skirt, white blouse, and black and white saddle shoes. She seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“Annie Shea!” she said. “C’mon in. I was just finishing up my math assignment, but I could take a few minutes off.”
She thought I had come to see her, and now that she was being so nice, I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her why I was really here.
“I’ll be right out,” Teresa said, turning her back on me and disappearing into the house. Her shiny hair bounced around on her shoulders. “Do you want some Kool Aid?”
“No thanks,” I said. I peeked around the door. Their living room wasn’t whisper-smooth; the floors were hardwood, and the walls had fingerprint smudges in the usual places. For sure toys and books were lying around, but it was way more neat than ours. Teresa came bounding out.
“Where are the rest of the kids?” I asked Teresa. I didn’t hear the usual shouting and footfalls and door slamming that is the background ambience of a big family.
“Oh, Mom went to pick them up from school. Everyone stays after for one thing or another: band, drama society, choir. She picks them up around 4:30. I took the bus home ‘cause I didn’t have anything today. Hey, let’s go sit on the wall.”
We went out to a cement wall at the front of the property that divided their yard from the sidewalk. It was low enough for us to hop up onto, and it had ivy on it. We climbed up with our legs dangling over the sidewalk. The cement was cool and scratchy under my dress.
“I’m so sorry about Cardinal Stefanucci,” she said, sounding genuine. The welcoming tone of her voice surprised me. Then, I had to realize I had never actually had much of a conversation with Teresa at all. Other than that embarrassing thing that happened at Candy’s summer pool party. I guess me and Teresa just looked at each other from afar.
“Yeah, me, too.” I said. “He was a nice man.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say, certainly not what was on my mind.
“Wanda is coming over later,” she said. I cringed inwardly with jealousy; Teresa was beginning to take over my best friend Wanda. But then she said: “We’re going to go to Sew Nifty to get some material and patterns later. You want to come?”
“No, thank you,” I said. My envy evaporated instantly once she included me. It was the kind of thing I would love to have done with the two of them.
I swallowed. “I’m here to see your brother.”
“Sam?” (Sam was my age, and for a while there, I liked him).
“No, Christopher. I’m here to see Christopher,” I said as casually as possible.
“Christopher? Didn’t he go out with Clara?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “He did, but...” She looked at me, expecting me to say more. I just stared back.
“I haven’t seen Clara for a while.”
I shrugged. “I just have something to tell him,” I said. Another quizzical pause. She looked into my eyes, giving me the chance to tell her.
Finally, “So you’re here to see him, then?”
“Yeah, but I would like to go to Sew Nifty with you and Wanda,” I said lamely. “It’s just… I can’t go today.”
“Okay, well he’s here,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll go get him.” She hopped off the wall. So did I. I pressed my uniform skirt down with my hands, wishing I had changed out of it into something more attractive. My hair was probably greasy by now. This morning I noticed an “inner city” zit on my forehead in the space between my eyebrows. I touched it, hoping it had gone down, but it was sore. I sighed. There wasn’t much I could do to glamorize myself, and it struck me as odd that suddenly I wanted to.
Christopher Feeney stepped down the front walk. There was something about his stride that made me look at him. He moved towards me like he wanted to see me. He was smiling,
“Hi, Annie!” he called to me from the steps.
“Hi, Christopher,” I said. They were the first two words I had spoken to him in my life. Now he was closer, and I detected some kind of pleasant smelling after-shave or cologne. His hair was short and blonde, and his eyes were dark brown. He had a dimple, and if I were going to describe an officer candidate, it would be Christopher Feeney. He’d be stunning in dress whites.
I had been shaking with anger and anticipation when I came up the walk to ring the bell and now I felt all soft and melted down. I don’t know what happened, but it sure was curious. I found myself liking him. He seemed so cheerful.
He looked right at me, like I was the only person in the world and he said, “So what can I do for you, Annie? You’re Clara’s sister. I’ve seen you a few times—at the opening of Shea Family Motors, I noticed you. Right?”
Oh, Mary Mother of God, I thought, he noticed me?
“It’s about Clara,” I said, my arms crossed, unsmiling.
“I miss Clara,” he said, with an extra-sincere sound in his voice, and I could feel my whole body wanting to believe him.
“I think she needs you right now,” I said.
“She went up to Ventura for a retreat,” he said. “I didn’t want her to go.”
“Well,” I said. Then there was this pause. I didn’t have the faintest idea what I was going to say.
“Well?” he asked me. “After all this time, now she needs me?”
“I thought I should come to you, first,” I said. “She’s been there a few months now, you know.”
“I thought she wanted to be a nun.”
“Who told you that?”
“Well, why else would you go on a retreat with nuns?”
“Did you ever write to her to find out?”
“She never wrote to me.”
“But you could’ve written to her.” Words were leaping out of my mouth with a mind of their own.
“She broke up with me. I didn’t break up with her.”
“She’s not interested in being a nun,” I said.
Why was I so afraid to tell him what was God’s honest truth? Maybe he loved Clara and really did miss her, like he said. Maybe if he knew, he would be so happy and want to help Clara and want to be the dad to his own baby. I kept telling myself that I had to tell him. To give that baby a chance to go through life with its real parents. There was only one thing to do.
“I’m coming to you first,” I said, “because she doesn’t want to give up the baby, but they’re going to force her to.”
“The baby?”
“She’s going to have a baby. She’s pregnant. And you’re the father.”
His shoulders had relaxed and he had his hands in his pockets, but now he pulled them out and stiffened right up.
“What?” he said, immediately turning away from me.
“It’s almost ready to be born.” Now he was pacing the sidewalk.
“She doesn’t know I’m telling you this.”
Over his shoulder, behind him, a face appeared in the leaded glass window. One of Clara’s girlfriends, Mona Allegretti.
“Who else knows?” he asked me, like he was choking. He cleared his throat.
“What difference does it make?” I asked him. I knew exactly what difference it made, but I wanted him to feel the weight of his actions, as Mother and Daddy would say.
“Oh, that’s Mona,” I said to him, waving, as if he didn’t know. I looked back at him like, really? Mona?
“Mona? She’s here to… we’re in a study group together.” He waved his hands in front of his face like he was swatting a fly away. “Biology.”
“Have you written Clara? If you miss her, you might write? She’s up there by herself.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Apparently you’re too cool,” I said. Another pause. A station wagon turned at the street corner and headed towards us. It was Mrs. Feeney, with the kids. “What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do? I’ve just found out about this! I haven’t even talked to Clara.”
“Yeah, you haven’t.”
“What do you know about anything?” He seemed angry at me. “I have no idea what I am going to do.” He stopped pacing and looked at me squarely. “Does anyone else know about this?”
“Madcap and I went to see her. Obviously Daddy and Mother know she’s pregnant, but she hasn’t said anything about who the father is. We promised not to tell. But I’m not exactly telling you. You’re the father. You’re an integral part of this.” It was the first time I had used the word integral in my life. His eyes were looking all over the place, trying to figure it out. “I really think Clara wants to keep her baby,” I said. “Since you’re the dad, you could help her. Daddy said he’d kick her out if she kept the baby. Obviously he wants her to give it up.”
“Oh, man,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Exactly.”
“I’m not ready to get married.”
“That’s what Clara thought. She said you want to ‘play the field.’ She’s probably not ready to be a mother, either.” He paced around some more in the silence between us. Mona came out onto the porch. The screen door slammed shut behind her. She waved at us from the top step. The car turned into the driveway. Voices of the Feeneys spilled out the windows as they waved.
“Christopher!” Mona called. “Are you coming in? She was all sweetness and smiles. “C’mon! It’s your move! Teresa doesn’t like chess.” Mona walked right up to Christopher and slipped her arm in his. I guess she was his girlfriend now. My stomach felt like a big lead ball.
“Aaa!” he cried out, pushing her away. “I’ll be right there. Go on back in.” Now he seemed angry at Mona, even though she didn’t do anything but open her mouth and put her foot in it. “I’ll be right in,” he called after her. I could hear the sounds of the car doors opening and slamming down the driveway, and the laughter and chatter of the famous fourteen Feeneys, the most devout Catholics in Pasadena. I couldn’t help myself; after Mona, all I had left was sarcasm.
“Listen, Annie. It’s just between you and me here.” He put his arm on my shoulder, like I was his favorite pal.
“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t,” I said, shaking off his arm.
“You can’t let anyone else know about this.”
“Why not?” I knew perfectly well why not. It would hurt our reputation as much as it would hurt the Feeneys. It would be a scandal to end all scandals. But I said, “Why can’t anyone else know? It’s a real baby she’s having. I’m pretty sure it’s going to want to know who its father is.”
One of the little Feeneys, maybe as old as the twins, came running up to Christopher. Boy was he cute. Another blonde.
“Just give me some time to think about this.” The little Feeney aimed himself at Christopher’s legs for a big hug. Christopher leaned down and hugged him back.
“Hey, buddy! How was school?” The kid grinned up at his brother.
“I got a star! In spelling!”
“A star! Wow. Hey, buddy, give me a minute. I’ll be right in.” He turned his brother by the shoulders and aimed him at the house.
“I have to help her,” I said as the little guy turned and ran.
“Well, just sit on it for now,” Christopher said forcefully. “I’ll think about it.”
“Your baby is going to be born any day now. There isn’t much time for thinking.” I knew I was pressing him hard.
He stopped moving, staring at something over my shoulder. His face changed as a thought occurred to him. He turned to me.
“How do we know it’s my baby?” he said, like suddenly he had this idea.
“Clara said it was your baby. She said it doesn’t take much. You would know about that.”
“What’s the proof?” he asked me.
“What’s the proof?”
“Yeah,” he said, a little calmer now. “Can you prove that I’m the father?”
•••
Can you prove I’m the father? I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Can you prove I’m the father?! All the way home, I didn’t see anything but the scuffed toe of my black and white saddle shoes. Stinkin’ diaper! A big black beetle with a shiny back had the misfortune of strolling across the sidewalk in my path at the very moment I came marching and mumbling insults to Christopher Feeney. I immediately stomped on it, hearing the crack and pop of its magnificent back as its insides smeared the soles of my shoes. Clara is not a liar! I wiped my shoes on the short, dry grass, but it didn’t satisfy me. When I saw the pavement smeared with insect legs, I stomped and pounded it until my foot throbbed. You don’t even care about her! I pressed the ball of my foot into the sidewalk and twisted at the ankle, embedding the black legs onto the cement. Coward! I wanted to flatten Christopher Feeney so flat. Then I remembered him sitting up there on the altar, like he was part of what we were striving to be. I wish I had spit at him.
I had to tell someone. When I got to Madcap’s room, suddenly I remembered that Clara swore us to secrecy about Christopher Feeney being the dad. Clara made us promise. I was such a blabbermouth! How could I say anything to Madcap now? Gaaaaaa! I paced around outside the door.
“Madcap,” I said forcefully, bursting into her room. She was sitting on her bed, reading under the skylight. She didn’t even look up.
“Not now, Annie, I’ve got to finish this paper.”
“Christopher Feeney wants us to prove he’s the father of Clara’s baby.” Oh, my God, I’m telling her!
“What? How do you know?”
“I had to tell him.” She sat up and looked at me like How could you?
“You did not!”
“Clara needs help to keep her baby. He’s the obvious one to help, isn’t he? Isn’t he supposed to be responsible for that baby?”
“You weren’t supposed to say anything!”
“I know.”
“Now the word is out.”
“What do you mean? I only told him.”
“He can tell anyone he wants that Clara is pregnant, and he’s not the father. It takes the heat off him.”
Suddenly I remembered about The Hands. I don’t know why. Mostly in the daytime, I forget all about it. I’ve tried telling Wanda. But it’s not the kind of thing you can just “mention.” Here it was just Madcap and me, alone in her room. I wanted so much to tell her. But the thought of lying in my own bed sound asleep with my pajama top pulled up, I could feel the energy being pulled right out of me, like the air in a balloon zipping out that little hole with that sucking sound. I slowed right down; a heaviness settled in the pit of my stomach.
Where was God anyway? And all the saints we pray to all the time. And the Blessed Mother! Where was she? How could they ignore The Hands? How could they ignore Christopher Feeney being the dad?
In my mind I was yelling at top volume.
That was better. If I just concentrated on that, I could feel a rage sneaking back into me. I needed the anger. It made me determined.
“I have to tell you something.” I sat down on Madcap’s bed by her feet, like I wasn’t going to move any time soon.
“Aaron and I are going out to a Beach Boys’ concert,” she said. “Can you cover for me?” It was a weeknight, and we weren’t allowed to go out. “I’ll be studying up here after the rosary.” She emphasized the word studying. “Maybe you can distract them if anyone gets too close? And let me in when I get home.”
“You have to listen.”
“What?”
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
“What, Annie?” she said, kicking her leg impatiently.
“To ask you about, I mean.”
“What, Annie? What? Ask me.” Her impatient manner reminded me of Mother the night after Dominic got lost at Disneyland when I came to tell her about The Hands. Madcap stared at her book, her finger twirling a strand of hair pulled out from the top of her head. She was only paying attention to me in the most distracted way. I changed the subject, without her even knowing.
“Clara’s baby’s almost due.” I paused. “They’re gonna force her to sign the papers, and she’ll have to give it up.”
“They probably will. It’s what they do in cases like this.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care! But what can we do?”
•••
That night I decided to set a trap for whoever it was, before going to bed.The only way to stop him was to catch him and embarrass him when everybody else finds out. I turned the metal wastepaper basket upside down in front of the door and closed the door tightly. I tucked my covers snugly across the mattress and then lay down next to the bed with some clothes folded up for a pillow. I figured, when he opens the door, the metal trash can will make a sound and when he gets to my bed, he’s gonna have to yank back the covers. So I’m pretty sure I will wake up.
The next thing I knew, I was gradually aware of a sound at the window, a soft knock at the pane. I hopped up from the floor, tapped the pane, and waved at Madcap through the window. I pushed the metal wastepaper basket aside as I went to the laundry room to unhook the metal latch for her. She winked at me and tiptoed upstairs.
But once she was up in her room, I heard footsteps. Creaking down the stairs. I got up from my place on the floor as quietly as I could and climbed up on the upside down basket. I crouched in the dark, balancing on the bucket beside the door. My heart was flying around inside my chest.
The door slowly opened. Gee, he sure was quiet. It was almost pitch black, but I could see his shadowy shape next to my bed. I waited, just to see what he would do. He tried to pull the covers back, but they were pretty tight, so he had to rip at them. I leapt out at him from behind. My weight and the surprise of it pushed him over onto my bed, but both of us immediately tumbled off. He was much heavier than I had anticipated, and when I got close to his head, I understood why.
It was John-the-Blimp! My mouth fell open. Blimp?
“Annie?” he said. I couldn’t see him clearly, but I can recognize that voice even if he only whispers one word. John? Really? All along I had imagined someone I didn’t know. But it really was my own brother. Then I had a thought that halted me in my tracks. O my God, maybe that’s why Jesus hasn’t been answering my prayers! John is an altar boy! Until recently, a priest in training. He’s probably spent more time in church than I have! He’s got more Saint points, and one day, he could become a priest. I tried to grasp it. God was trying to get his attention.
It was so unfair! But I was on top of Blimp, squeezing my legs around him as tightly as I could. I grabbed his ear and twisted.
“What are you doing in my room, Blimp? Get the hell out of here and don’t ever come back!” I had never said hell before in my whole life. My brother was many pounds heavier than I was. He sat up and I fell off with a thud onto the floor.
“Get out of my bedroom! Don’t you ever come in here again!” Why didn’t I think of this sooner? I heard Rosie and Jeannie rustling awake as John turned towards the door. I tore after him.
“I’ll get you!” I yelled at him with all my might as he rounded the corner to take the stairs. I managed to grab him around the waist, but I couldn’t pull him down. At the bottom of the stairs, we both flailed and fumbled at each other, but he was bigger than me, and one swing of his arm flattened me to the ground. I got up again, racing up after him two steps at a time. At the top, I tackled his feet again and he went down. He kicked wildly, smashing my chin, then scrambled up into his room, slamming the door. I pounded on it and pounded on it. “What were you doing in my bedroom?!” I was screaming as loudly as I could. I wanted to wake up the dead.
Things began to come to life all over the house.