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They made plans to go shopping early the next morning when Michael gets home from work. He figured he could sleep later in the day.
“Look, Ellen, why don’t we pool our money and see what we have?”
She opened her handbag and turned it upside down on the kitchen table. Two-dollar bills and a handful of change tumble out. She counted the coins. “I had a bit more, but I wanted Da to have the newspaper and cigarettes.”
“I have $2.49.” She smiled with obvious pride. “It took me all summer to save up, but it was worth it.”
Michael smiled and reached in his pocket. He pulled out five $1 bills and counts .51 cents in change. “There you are: $8.00.” Fried’s should be open by now. Let’s get this over so I can get a couple hours sleep.”
Fried’s shop was only a few minutes away on Dalby Street. Flanking the entrance to Fried’s are two display windows with mannequins wearing the latest designs in seasonal colors, and all around them are numerous stylish accessories. Michael cannot imagine what some of them could be used for.
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Inside the store were more mannequins, rows of hanging clothes, shelves filled with folded sweaters, shirts and shoes.
“May I help you?” asked Mr. Fried, a short balding Jewish man with horned rimmed glasses perched on his prominent nose.
“I might have an interview for an office job. What would you suggest I wear?”
“Would you prefer a dress or a suit?” Mr. Fried asked Ellen
“Dresses please—one I can use on Sunday as well.”
“Would you like to try some on?”
“Oh, yes,” Ellen said as she looks through the pretty dresses before her.
“You pick a couple out and try them on. Let me know if you need more help,” Mr. Fried offered.
Michael helped Frank and Christopher pick out a shirt each and tried to strike a bargain with Mr. Fried.
Ellen came out of the dressing room wearing a long- sleeved brown dress with a faux jacket displaying four large brown buttons, and belt. The back and right shoulder have an attached short cape that hangs about half way to the elbow.
“I think I like this one. What do you think?”
“How should I know? I don’t think that’s a good color for you though,” Michael said. Christopher and Frank both made faces, shaking their heads no.
“I think I’d like to try another.”
Michael took a deep breath knowing this could take a while. In the meantime, he paid Mr. Fried for two shirts.
A few minutes later Ellen settled on a cobalt blue dress with broad shoulders and nipped waist; belted with
gold buttons that run all the way down the front to the calf length hem. Beaming and twirling in front of the store mirror she said, “Oh, Michael. This is it! Don’t you love it?”
“Oh, good, you’re sure?” Michael hoped.
Ellen nodded and returned to the dressing room to change.
At the register Ellen reached into her purse, pulling out the eight dollars, and handed it to Mr. Fried. “Thanks Mr. Fried.”
Ellen took the package wrapped in brown paper and hugged it to her chest. “If I could save some money, I could buy shoes. Did you see those over there? I think they match my new outfit.”
“Maybe next time,” Michael put his arm around her and guided her steadily out the door. “I’m sure I’m not up to any more shopping for a while.” He yawed, looking forward to a couple hours sleep.
At home, Ellen changed into the new dress to show Moira. Her reaction is less than enthusiastic, but Ellen isn’t daunted. She returned to her room to change again, but with a noticeable spring in her step.
“Don’t worry, Ma,” said Michael. “It’ll be all right; you’ll see.”
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Sitting down to supper with the family, Ellen talked excitedly about her shopping experience. The boys talked about their new shirts but complained that they still need new trousers.
“Finish up. There are still chores to do,” Moira said. “Christopher, the chickens need your attention. Check their food and water before putting them into the coop for the night; the pig gets the leftovers. Michael, would you help get your father washed and ready for bed? Ellen has the dishes to wash up and put away.”
Later that evening after things settled down, a thought occursed to Michael for a way to make some extra money.
“Ma, I’m going out for a while. I won’t be long.” He grabbed his hat and coat and headed out the back door. He almost fell over Ellen as he stepped out the door. She grabbed his jacket and pulled him around the corner, hoping Ma couldn’t see or hear them.
“Michael, take me to the carnival tonight, please.”
“Are you out of your mind? Ma would skin us alive.”
“I want to see Tony. He’s there working tonight and asked me to come. Michael, please? Can I go, just for a while, not long. It’s Saturday night? I see all the lights and hear the sounds. I want to know what it’s like at a carnival. I know Ma doesn’t want us down there. You can take me and watch over me. I’ll tell her I’m going to a friend’s house. Pleeeease?"
“I don’t like you lying to Ma. She has an uncanny way of finding things out.” But Michael was a push over, at least when it came to Ellen and the boys. Maybe, if I take her to see Tony, and then send her right home, it will be all right.
“Well, I’m going there anyway. I thought I’d see if I could find work. If I can make back the money we spent today, Ma will stop worrying. Go in and talk to Ma. If she asks, tell her you’re going to see a friend. That way it won’t be a lie.”
Ellen was thrilled and hugged him hard.
“I’ll take you, but you come home when I say. I don’t like sneaking around on Ma, Ellen.”
“Okay, I promise,” she said jumping up and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll do just as you say.” She runs into the house to get her jacket.
Michael began to question the wisdom of taking Ellen to the carnival. He almost hoped that Ma won’t let her out. It was bad enough when he was going alone. Ma would be furious if she finds out. He paces nervously, waiting.
Moira was sitting in her rocker with a pile of mending at her feet. She kept a tight rein on her children because she loved them, and because she was a little afraid. One terrible accident in a family was enough . . .
The back door opened, and Ellen pranced in. “What are your plans for the evening?” Ma asked her.
“I thought I might go see Alice, if that’s all right. I haven’t told anyone about my new dress.”
Waiting to hear Ma’s response seemed to take hours. Ellen was tempted to say more, but she’s sure she’ll end up telling a lie, or giving away the real reason. Finally, Moira stops darning and looks up at her daughter. Ellen held her breath. Another eternity passed. Moira just looked at her. “All right, but don’t stay long. An hour or so, hear me?”
“Thank you, Ma.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed her jacket, and rans from the kitchen and out the back door.
“I’ve got an hour or so,” she said pulling Michael to hurry him along.
Once on the street she relaxed as they fell into step. Michael still wasn’t sure that taking her is a good idea, but he feels it’s too late to turn back. They walked down Bottle Alley and cross Watertown Street. He felt Ellen’s excitement build as they got closer to Our Lady’s and the carnival. The lights, sounds, and smell of popcorn on the evening breeze help him relax. He has a purpose, and he’ll focus on that.
Inside the gates they searched for Tony. The sights and sounds are a distraction. It’s nosier than he thought it would be. The music of the merry-go-round and the happy, chattering, festive crowd make it difficult to think. Walking down the main row, they found Tony manning the Ring Toss booth.
“Oh . . . hi, Tony, I forgot you were going to be here tonight.” Ellen turned and appeared to be interested in the Duck Shooting booth across the way.
Michael suddenly saw his sister in a new light. When did she acquire these feminine wiles? Could this be my little sister, flirting with a boy? Not just a boy, Tony! He watched as they tried to hide their feelings for one another. He-man Tony blushed under his dark complexion. He struggled for words, ones that wouldn’t make him sound stupid. Ellen was looking everywhere but at Tony. “I have things to do,” he interrupted.
“Michael, is it alright if I stay here with Tony for a bit? I want to try this game.” Her voice is natural, but her eyes are pleading.
“You have one hour, and then it’s off to home with you. I’ll be back to check.,” Michael said to Ellen.
“Tony, who do I talk to about getting work? I need to pick up some fast cash.”
“Check the last booth in this row; the one on the left. A big Russian by the name of Koslov runs the carnival and does the hiring. It’s mostly locals that work the booths.”
Tony had not taken his eyes off Ellen all this time, and Michael noticed. Boy, does he have it bad. Ma is going to have a fit when she finds out. And I know she will somehow.
Leaving the two love birds, Michael made his way along the booths that line both sides of the wide alleyway. At the end were the Ferris wheel and the carrousel. He saw a bear of a man shouting in what he presumed was
Russian. The object of this tirade was a young woman, dressed as a fortune teller, who was yelling back just as loudly in a mix of English and Russian.
“I am not a prostitute, and I will not be treated like one! You want a girl to entertain your so-called friends, you find someone else! You’re a right chuccuo!” Furious, she looked for something, anything. Finding a hammer, she hurled it at his head, then stormed off, colliding with Michael. She gave him a hard shove as she passed. “Out of my way,” She raged in broken English, her hands gesturing wildly. Michael watched her go, pushing anyone foolish enough to be in her path. He noticed her thin waistline and hearsd the tinkling of the bells on her costume, hips swaying with each angry step. A heat rose within him as a smile came to his lips. If he had the time he’d like to follow those swaying hips and get to know their owner.
“What ju lookin’ at, mush?” the big Russian roared. “Ju see somethin’ ju like! You stay away from that jival; she not for likes of ju.”
“Uh, sorry . . .” Michael was pulled from his reverie. “Are you Koslov? I’m looking for work.”
Koslov assessed him. “Maybe ju can work milk bottles, huh? Pukka to the mush I send ju. Tell him to see me. Dummy can’t add to save his ass. I lose money every night he works. After he tells ju what to do, ju send him to me. Ju add better than dummy, ju can work till we leave. Bring the takings to me when we close.”
Michael found the booth. The kid appeared a couple years older than Ellen, but younger than himself. He didn’t recognize him, so they must not have gone to the same school. But he was young and looking to make money, just like him. The kid had picked up some of the carnival jargon like Tony used.
“This is my first night. Can you tell me how things work?” Michael asked.
“Simple, the suckers get three balls to throw at the wooden bottles. The bottles are weighted on the bottom and don’t fall easily. If they knock all the bottles off the shelf, they get a prize. Three balls for a nickel. You show them how to do it using these bottles. Here, see how light they are?”
He handed one to Michael. “Remember, never put the light ones back up on the shelf. Keep telling them how close they came and get them to keep trying.”
“I got it. No problem,” said Michael. He felt bad that the kid might lose the job, but he needed the money.
“Any idea what Koslov wants?” the boy asked.
“He said to send you to him.”
As he walked off, Michael watches him. Maybe Koslov will change his mind and give him another job somewhere.
Before long a young couple stops at the booth.
“Arnie, try this one. Win me a prize.” The gum-chewing girl is about seventeen with a whiny, high-pitched voice. The skinny, pimple-faced boy, about her age, shoved
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his glasses up, jams a fist into his pants pocket, and pulls out some change.
“How much?”
“Three tries for .05 cents.”
“Come on, Arnie. You can do it. You got great muscles.”
The boy droped two nickels on the counter and took the three balls Michael offers. The boy shoved his glasses up again. He eyed the bottles closely, took a step back, and threw the first ball. It flew over the tops of the bottles.
“That was good!” squealed the girl in a voice that could shatter glass. “Do it again, Arnie!”
“Stand back, Bertha. I need room to wind up.” He eyed the bottles, shook his arms, presumably to loosen his muscles, stepped back, and threw! The ball left his hand and sailed past Michael—hitting the edge of one of the bottles. The bottle quivers but doesn’t fall.
“One more try! One more try!” Bertha chanted. “You can do it! One more try!”
Frustrated, the kid kicks the dirt like a bull in the ring, winds up, and slams the ball so hard his glasses fall off. The ball sailed between the bottles and hits the canvas barrier in the back with a loud “whap.”
“Aw, Arnie, try again. You almost did it,” she whined again.
“I can’t, Bertha. I think I pulled something with that last pitch. Let’s try the merry-go-round. We haven’t done that yet.” They rushed off laughing.
Michael pulled this weathered old watch out of his pocket and checked the time, hoping Ellen has kept her word and is headed home.
A man walked up to his booth wearing a Boston Bees baseball cap. His companion was a young lady who was much younger and clearly not his wife.
“Honey, this is my game. If they knew how good I am, they wouldn’t let me play. It doesn’t seem fair to take all their prizes.” The man gloats.
“Oh, Billy, can you win me one of those pink bears? You know how I love pink,” she said with a broad Boston accent.
“Sure, Baby, easy as pie. Didn’t I try-out at Braves Field the other day? They even said they might call me back. I’ll win that pink teddy for you,” Billy grabbed her around the waist, pulled her to him, and gave her a big kiss, “if that’s what you want, Baby.” She squealed, whether from surprise or embarrassment, Michael wasn’t sure. Billy paid his money and took three balls. He stepped back, paused to wind up, threw the first ball as hard as he could—knocking the top bottle off the stack of three.
“I’m just getting warmed up, Baby.” He rolled his shoulders and turned his Bees cap around; another wind up for another throw. Whoosh, goes the ball. It hit the milk bottles with a distinct crack, shaking them, but they don’t go down. Billy’s face turned red with rage and
embarrassment. “I hit those bottles, I know it! This game is rigged! I’ll get the cops in here, I swear I will!”
“Look, try again, on me.” Michael knew this guy could be trouble, and that was the last thing he wanted on his first night. He set the bottles up again, putting the light bottles on the shelf. “Here you go, try again. You knock ’em down, and the lady gets the teddy bear.” Michael handed him three more balls.
Billy wound up again and hurled a fast ball. The light-weight wooden bottles go flying. Billy flexed his shoulders like a player after a rough day. A silent look passed between them. Both knew the game was rigged, but Billy saved face in front of the girl, and he’ll let it go.
“You did it! You did it, Billy! I knew you could,” she gushed. Michael handed her the pink bear, and she gave it a hug, then turns and soundly kissed Billy. His ego restored, he nodded to Michael, and the pair move on up the row.
He was watching them leave when he spotted the kid he replaced charging in his direction.
“Koslov fired me!” he yelled at Michael. “I’ve worked this carnival for two years, and you got me fired!” He reached the booth and kicked the wooden counter to make his point. “I’m not going down quietly. Watch your back, mush! I’ve got friends here!” The kid was still yelling as he stormed off, his face beet-red with anger. He picked up a rock and hurled it at Michael. It missed, ricochets off one of the weighted bottles, and dropped to the ground.
Ellen came up just as the kid stormed past. “That’s Johnny Russo. What’s he mad about?”
“I was given his booth, and he got fired.”
“He's a real hot head, you know. He got kicked out of Our Lady’s in the sixth grade because of his temper. He hangs out with those roughnecks down by the river. I sure hope he’s not going to make trouble.”
“If he does, I’ll handle it. You better get home. Ma will be wondering where you are.”
“I’m going now; I just wanted to let you know. Michael, Tony wants to take me to the cinema. You know how Ma feels about him, but I really like him. What am I going to do?”
“Listen, Ellen. I can’t keep sneaking around on Ma and helping you and Tony like this. We’ll all get caught, and then there’ll be hell to pay. You’ll have to solve this on your own. Now go home, please. It’s getting late. I’ll be home after a while.”
Michael watched her hurry off down past the booths,
Oh God, why couldn’t she fall in love with a nice Irish boy? Ma is going to kill us both.