Chapter Ten

For Miss Perkins’ day off—Sunday—Sam and his mother have a routine. If it’s not raining, they go to Paul Revere park and sit outside while his mother reads her newspaper. Sam enjoys the sun on his face and the smell of fresh grass while he listens to his mother comment on the news.

“This Vietnam War is horrible, Sam. Over 500 men died this month. Not just kids. But men as old as me. And no halt to the bombings.” After she tells him the latest news, she always pauses, contemplating. “That’s why I can’t meet any nice men. They’re all dying in Vietnam.”

If it’s raining, they watch cartoons on television. His mother enjoys Bugs Bunny more than he does. Or they listen to music on the radio. His mother’s favorite Beatle is Paul McCartney. She likes him because of his soft eyes. She sings along with all their songs, but her favorite is “All You Need Is Love.”

Sam and his mother have their own secret which they keep from Miss Perkins: jelly donuts. Miss Perkins scolds his mother. “Jelly donuts aren’t nutritious. Just fix the boy a bowl of cereal.”

But this Sunday morning feels a little different. His mother wets his hair and combs it for the second or third time. She buttons the top button on his shirt and insists that he wear his blue jacket even though it is small and uncomfortable.

His mother steps back and takes a hard look at him. “Ready,” she says finally.

I was ready a long time ago, Sam thinks resentfully as she pushes him out the door onto Elm Street. They are headed for the Corner Market where she buys her paper.

Neither of them are morning people, and usually they enjoy the Sunday quiet. But this morning his mother is talking, and her constant stream of advice is giving him a headache. “People, especially men, like polite boys, Sam. I hope that you will always do your best to be polite…”

The spire of their church appears in the distance. It’s the tallest building on the block with a stained glass window of the disciple Paul. His mother chose this church because it’s the only one in their neighborhood with an entrance ramp.

“We should go back to Sunday school. How long has it been since we’ve been there? Two months?” his mother continues.

Sam isn’t sorry that his mother hasn’t taken him to church lately. Too many old ladies like to pat his cheek and call him a “brave boy.”

She pushes him through the front door of Corner Market.

A man standing at the magazine rack whips around when they enter. Like Sam’s father, he is tall. But while his father had an athletic build, this man is stocky. A crop of dark hair sits on top of his head. His cheeks are the color of strawberries; his eyes, stern and his mouth, unsmiling. But what catches Sam’s interest are the rings on his fingers. Two of them. One has a big diamond in it.

“Why, Mr. Jordache!” his mother exclaims. Her lovely eyes are wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Mrs. Davis.” Mr. Jordache makes a half-bow but keeps his eyes fixed on her. “Just buying a paper,” he says. The man’s voice is low and gravelly.

“This is my son, Sam,” his mother says quietly, and for a reason that Sam doesn’t understand, he senses that she is afraid. “Sam, Mr. Jordache is a new client at the law firm.”

For an instant, Sam wonders if his mother planned to meet Mr. Jordache this morning. She never makes him wear his blue coat to the park. But then he realizes that this can’t be true. His mother had acted surprised to see Mr. Jordache, hadn’t she? Still, Sam understands that Mr. Jordache is important to his mother in a way that he can’t interpret. “HHello,” he says in as friendly a tone as he can muster.

“Hello, young man,” Mr. Jordache says. “Your mother has told me quite a bit about you. She’s very proud of you.”

“TThanks,” Sam says.

There’s a long pause while Mr. Jordache and his mother stare at each other.

“Well,” his mother says. “I hope to see you next week, Mr. Jordache.”

“Perhaps, Mrs. Davis. Perhaps…” Mr. Jordache says.

“Oh,” his mother says in a small voice.

“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Mr. Jordache says. When he walks out the door, Sam notices that he has forgotten to buy his paper.

His mother turns towards the counter.

“What can I get you?” the Indian grocer says in his lilting voice.

His mother doesn’t seem to hear him.

Both his mother and Mr. Jordache appear to have forgotten their purchases. “PPaper,” Sam says, trying to be helpful. But he is thinking hard.

“What’s that?” the grocer says.

“PPaper,” Sam repeats.

His mother seems to wake up. “We’ll take a newspaper,” she says. She turns to Sam. “And how about some jelly donuts?”

To say yes, Sam looks up, but he’s not fooled by her bright smile. His blue coat. The extra care she took to wash off his face. Her end- less lecture about politeness. When Mr. Jordache left the store without buying anything, Sam had decided that his hunch must be correct. His mother and Mr. Jordache had planned to meet at Corner Market. But why? He worries that Mr. Jordache may be the man that his mother’s been going dancing with. He hopes not. He doesn’t like to think about that man’s fat fingers with their big rings holding his mother’s hands.

Sam hates secrets. Of course, he keeps a lot of them himself, but with his uncoordinated tongue, he doesn’t have any choice. As his mother sets the bag of jelly donuts on his tray, he thinks: You shouldn’t keep secrets from your son. Not a single one.