Mr. Gary was reading the newspaper to his mother. His ears didn’t look quite as bad as they had in that high school graduation picture in the hidey-hole. They still stuck out but his face had grown wider. “Today is the funeral of that little girl they found in the park. Did you know her, Sally?”
“Not really,” I said, popping a grape in my mouth. “Sara was younger than me and Troo. A third-grader.”
Mrs. Galecki shook her wobbly head back and forth and said, “How sad for her mother. You remember Cathy Miller, don’t you, Gary? She married Frankie Heinemann. Sara was Cathy and Frankie’s little girl.”
Mr. Gary shook his paper and said, “Of course, I remember Cathy Miller. Prettiest girl in school. Lovely, lovely girl.”
“I think the whole world is heading to you know where in a handbasket, don’t you?” Mrs. Galecki said. “What kind of monster would hurt poor defenseless children?”
Yesterday I woulda thought right away that Rasmussen would, but I was trying not to think like that anymore. Just as a favor for Ethel. But I was pretty sure this mind training would take some time. Like learning a new card trick.
I was getting ready to ask Mr. Gary about Mother and what kind of girl she was in high school and were her and him friends when Ethel called, “Miss Sally… bath is ready!”
“Thank you for lettin’ Troo and me stay over.” I pushed my chair back and said, “We appreciate it so much.”
Mr. Gary set his paper down on the table and said in that soft, light voice of his, “What nice manners you have, Sally.”
I must have blushed because he added, “And such wonderful coloring. You know what that means?”
I shook my head.
“You have green eyes and blond hair and skin with the nicest bit of peach tone,” Mr. Gary said. “That’s called your coloring.” He picked up his paper and said from behind it, “You’re a beautiful girl.”
“Miss Saaallly, get your behind in here ’fore this water gets cooled down,” Ethel called.
Then Mr. Gary said something behind his hand to Mrs. Galecki. I caught the words “Troo” and “coloring,” and they had a little laugh about that.
I went to the bathroom door and there was Ethel sitting on the edge of the tub waiting for me. “Just take off them clothes. I’ll wash ’em for you.”
“But what’ll I put on then?” I handed her my shirt and shorts and undies. Granny woulda said those clothes looked like something the cat dragged in.
“I called Nell. She’ll be here in a shake of a lamb’s tail with some clean clothes for you and Troo. She’ll be takin’ you to the funeral in Eddie’s car and givin’ me a ride, too.” So that’s why Ethel was in her Sunday clothes. She was going with us to the funeral, which shouldn’ta surprised me because Ethel never missed a funeral. She said it was important for the dead person’s family to know how many people were gonna miss ’em.
I slipped my leg into the tub and it felt so good, that warm water and those bubbles. Ethel put a brand-new cake of Ivory soap on the side of the tub and I stretched out and floated a bit. “Behind the ears, too,” she said. “And wash your hair.” After Ethel closed the door, I thought about Nell and her bubblehead. Even though Nell was doing such a bad job taking care of Troo and me, before Mother got sick Nell really was only about the third worst sister in the world. I would keep that to myself, though, because I knew Troo thought Nell was the number-one worst sister. Even when she was a baby, Troo didn’t like Nell one bit. Except as somebody she liked to bite when she got her teeth. And there was no reason for it. It was just Troo being ornery. And maybe just a little green-eyed jealous of Nell.
There was a shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits knock. “Sorry to bother you,” Mr. Gary said through the bathroom door. “I need to get an aspirin out of the medicine cabinet for Mother. May I come in?”
I sunk down deep into the bubbles and said, “Sure,” even though I didn’t want him to. It was his house, after all, and woulda been poor manners to say no.
Mr. Gary came in and got the pill bottle and then snapped the medicine cabinet shut and looked at me through the mirror. “Bet that feels good, huh, Sally? I just love the water. Back home in California I live at the beach and every morning I go for a swim.” He came to sit on the side of the tub down on the end where my feet were. I checked again to make sure all of me was under the bubbles. “It’s a wonderful way to start the day. Always makes me feel good and clean and just born again.” He gave me a little splash.
I thought about that and said, “Yeah. You’re right, Mr. Gary,” but I wished he’d leave or at least stop smiling because he had this one eye that crossed over a little and made him look a little off. His “coloring” was sort of like mine. Tan skin with blond hair, but instead of green eyes he had eyes the same color as his mother’s, lagoon brown. And his blond hair was so blond, it looked, like Nell would say, out of a bottle. And she should know because she was in her second week now up at Yvonne’s School of Beauty on North Avenue.
Ethel came back and found Mr. Gary and me talking. She gave him a little push toward the door and said to me, “Did you wash your hair?”
I slipped below the water but I could hear Ethel say something to Mr. Gary and when I came up he was gone.
Ethel knelt down next to the tub and picked up the bar of Ivory and ran it between her big brown hands until there was a lather. My head was kinda under the water and I didn’t really hear her, just saw her lips moving. Ethel had wonderful lips. On the larger side. And she always wore this bright red lipstick called Fire Engine Number 5. I bet that would be what Mary Lane wore when she got older.
She pulled me up out of the water by the back of my neck and worked the lather into my hair, kneading my scalp like it was bread dough giving her a hard time. “I said what was Mr. Gary sayin’ to you?”
“He said how much he loved water and how it made him feel like he was just born again.”
Ethel rolled her eyes and said, out of patience, “That boy has some fanciful ideas and I don’t want him gettin’ your imagination all worked up again.” She scraped the soap off her hands and arms and shook it into the tub. “Dunk yourself and get out.”
I didn’t want to get out. I wanted to stay in there and float forever and feel like Mr. Gary said, just born again, but Ethel flapped a fluffy fresh towel at me and said, “Time’s a-wastin’.” I got out and let her wrap me up. “Go on into my room now and close the door behind you. Nell should be here any minute.”
I crawled back underneath Ethel’s covers, towel and all, and just stayed there like Ethel said, watching Troo out the window helping Rasmussen pick green beans and put them in a silver bowl. Rasmussen looked down at his watch and his lips moved. Then he looked over my way and waved. I pretended I didn’t see him and rolled over onto my other side and prayed Nell would hurry up and get here, because even though it was such a warm day, seeing Troo and Rasmussen together like that, so chummy, I got the shimmy shimmy shakes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
After Troo and me got dressed in the faded navy blue church dresses and shiny shoes with cleats that Nell brought over, we went looking for Mr. Gary so we could say good-bye to him. We found him out on the front stoop, smoking a cigarette.
I said, “Mr. Gary, we gotta go to a funeral now, but we promise we’ll try to come back soon and play some old maid.”
Mr. Gary took a long draw and said, “You better make it sooner rather than later, Sally. I’m heading back to California in a few days.”
Troo said, “The land of milk and honey.”
Remembering this morning’s bath, I said, “And water.” A specific ocean of it.
Mr. Gary stood up and took a step back so he could get a good look at the two of us. “How pretty and fresh you girls look in your dress-up clothes,” he said in his light-as-a-butterfly voice. He flicked his cigarette into the grass, gave us each a peck on the cheek and hopped down the stairs with a cheery, “I told Mother I’d cut some flowers for her. Hope to see ya later, alligators.” Even after he took the turn into the backyard, I could still smell his baby powder.