Connecting Dots Page 2

  “So they probably stick it on Christmas Day so’s not to have to get you lots of presents,” finished Linda.

  They had gathered around me in a circle. They knew my mother was dead. They knew Grandma was in a hospital. I was fair game.

  “If you get adopted, you’ll be taken away and they’ll change your name and we’ll never see you again,” Susan summed up. “Who knows where you’ll go.”

  Patty had one more zinger. “You might become a maid.” I saw her think about this. “Or maybe…maybe a slave!”

  They made a new skipping rhyme out of it.

  Apples, peaches, pears and plums.

  Who cares when Cassie’s birthday comes?

  So Hazel thought Grandma should have got rid of me? I saw myself in a box on the front lawn, a baby wrapped in a pink blanket with a piece of paper pinned to my bonnet. Please take. Free. With kittens they write Free to good home. But I had the feeling Hazel wouldn’t care.

  Hazel had a mustache and hairs on her chin. And despite the fact I saw her take out her false teeth and rinse them after supper, her breath smelled like something was rotting in her dentures. I hadn’t liked her before. Now I hated her.

  One day, lots of strangers came to my house.

  Everyone dressed in black.

  Told to go play at Patty’s house.

  I didn’t connect the dots.

  Chapter Four

  Patty’s mom was out and Patty had a babysitter. When Mrs. Huggins got home (in a black dress and a black hat), she said she was sorry my grandmother was dead. I told her she was wrong. “No, Mrs. Huggins. Grandma is in a hospital. You go to a hospital to get better,” I explained to her kindly.

  She looked annoyed and started to say something but she bit her lip. Really – she bit her lip. “You don’t know, do you? I thought you were being a smarty-pants.”

  “Know what?”

  Mrs. Huggins told me to sit down and she took my hand and she told me Grandma died two days ago. “I am sorry, Cassie. I truly am. We had our differences, but she was a God-fearing woman. And she took you in, despite people laughing at her behind her back.”

  Everything jumbled together. Grandma couldn’t be dead. Couldn’t be. And yet…it did all make sense, when I added things up. I remember being suddenly furious that she was gone and I hadn’t been allowed to visit her…to say good-bye. But what was this other thing about laughing?

  “Why did they laugh? What was so funny?”

  Mrs. Huggins sighed and looked away. Then she said, “Oh H-E- double hockey sticks! Someone has to tell you.” She played with her wedding ring a bit then she said, “When your mother – Rita – was in ninth grade, she was…well…a bit wild. Liked the boys a little too much and – Your grandmother took her away and stayed away herself for a few months. She came back and she told everyone that the child – you – was hers. We all suspected, of course. Shirley was just a teensy bit long in the tooth. Besides, I knew Rita. I babysat her sometimes. The boys sure loved her! Always coming around.” She sighed again. “Well, your grandmother did the right thing by her own mind, and she’s gone to her maker now. It isn’t for me to judge.” She settled back in her seat and looked like she was doing exactly that.

  I didn’t understand. “What did you suspect?”

  Mrs. Huggins looked exasperated for a moment, then gave me a good up and down stare and seemed to realize she was talking to a seven year old.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! What have I let myself in for?” She started to titter but caught herself and instead said, “Cassie, you are illegitimate. Your mother got herself preg…with child, rather, and your grandmother pretended she was your mother because…well…Rita wasn’t married. That makes you illegitimate.”

  Why did this silly woman look so pleased with herself?

  I remembered something. “Ill,” Patty had said. She told me I was ill and I thought she meant sick. But she meant this mysterious word illegitimate.

  I remembered something else. “The other kids have fathers,” I informed Grandma. “Why don’t I have one?” Grandma got red in the face and turned her back to me. “Karen said I’m supposed to have one,” I continued. Grandma put down the dishcloth and, not looking at me, said, “I don’t know where your father is, Cassie, and that’s the truth.” I’d heard about lost children, but not about lost fathers. Grandma gave me a cookie and that was the end of it.

  So I put it together with the logic of childhood. I was illegitimate because my father got himself lost, and if Rita couldn’t find him she couldn’t get married.

  Now, looking at Mrs. Huggins, I whispered, “What happens to me?”

  “Well, dear, I don’t know. I expect one of your relatives will take you home with them.”

  Like a piece of furniture.

  Some of what they’d said made sense all of a sudden, the whispered conversations I had overheard, the discussions – often angry – about tables and chairs and dishes and knickknacks.

  They were dividing up Grandma’s belongings and fighting over who got what. I had thought it very strange because when Grandma came home from the hospital, she would be fit to be tied if her house was emptied out.

  “I don’t know why you think you can march in here and take Grandma’s belongings,” I shouted. “You never came around before, not once. Not one visit. You didn’t care about Grandma before. I don’t even know you! Why – ” I paused as it occurred to me. “Why, you could be anybody. Thieves, even.”

  Lana stared at me and muttered, “Any bickering over who gets that?”

  Somebody’s husband, I wasn’t clear whose at the time, asked loudly, “Any booze in this house?” He opened a cupboard in the kitchen and held aloft a bottle of rye whiskey like he’d won a trophy.

  I tried to grab it from him. “Grandma says it’s for medicinal purposes only.”

  The man laughed. “Didn’t do her much good, did it?”

  Chapter Five

  They came back from the funeral. I was waiting on the front steps. “Why couldn’t I go?” I asked, crying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Children don’t belong at funerals,” Hazel told me. “Too disruptive of a solemn occasion.”

  “But you didn’t even tell me. I didn’t even know Grandma was dead. Didn’t she want to talk to me? Didn’t she ask for me?”

  “You think a great deal too much about yourself, Cass,” Hazel said. “My sister didn’t need to be bothered anymore with the likes of you while she contemplated her sins.”

  Grandma always told me to watch my mouth and mind my manners. “Particularly with old folks, Cassie. Old people don’t appreciate wit and cleverness in a child. And you, the dear Lord knows, have an extra dollop of both.”

  I hoped Grandma wasn’t listening, because I was about to let fly. “I know I’m ill… ill…illgitmat?” I heard the question mark in my voice and so said illgitmat more forcefully. “I know all about Rita. So there. I know Rita got herself preg-with-child (I remembered exactly how Mrs. Huggins had said it) because of lots of boys and I know she died. And I wish Grandma could have put me up for adoption before one of you lot gets your hands on me. So there!”

  I was prophetic about them getting their hands on me because no sooner had I finished my speech, when I was ambushed from behind and flung over Great Uncle Ernie’s knee. He hit me twice before I even realized what had happened. He hit me three more times before I heard Lana shouting.

  “Dad! Dad! Stop it! That’s enough!”

  I felt her grab one arm and one leg and tug, and somehow I slithered off Ernie and fell to the floor. I saw his face – furious and red, with eyes bulging, spit flying – and I jumped up and ran down the hallway and into my room.

  Slam!

  I know there was a lot of commotion in the front room, but I decided this was a good time to howl – for Grandma, for myself, for Rita – and I didn’t he
ar what they were saying.

  It was dark before Lana opened my door and came in. She brought a sandwich and sat down. “You awake?”

  I was lying on my stomach on my bed. “Yes,” I mumbled.

  “Hey, kiddo. I’m sorry about that. Dad hitting you and all. He gets a bit carried away when kids misbehave. I should know. He sure hit me enough when I was a kid!” She said it with a laugh as if she really thought it was funny – looking back on it as an adult. Ha, ha, ha.

  “And I’m sorry about my Aunt Shirley dying. I know she was good to you. Never mind what Mom said. She’s a little…old fashioned. But she is well-meaning, just like my dad.”

  I’d hate to see what ill-meaning people were like.

  I turned on my desk lamp and looked at her.

  “Why did you call me ‘that’? You said, ‘Any bickering over who gets that,’ meaning me.”

  She sighed. “I know. It was rude. I didn’t think. The question is, what’s to become of you? You’re kinda old to be adopted now. People who can’t have kids want a baby. And besides, it wouldn’t be right. People would talk. Mother would hate that. And part of the reason you never met any of us was because everyone (and she tossed her head toward the front room) was so mad at Aunt Shirley for taking you in, for pretending at first you were her daughter and not her granddaughter. Folks knew, Cassie, and they laughed. I remember my mom’s reaction when she found out. Said she’d never talk to her sister again.”

  “So…” I swallowed hard. “What happens to me now?”

  “Well, at the moment, it looks like Aunt Mabel and Uncle Fred are taking you. For now. Just to see how things go.”

  I felt sick. Not them! Please not them! And like a drowning person I grabbed onto Lana’s arm, the one person who had been a bit kind. “Couldn’t you take me? Please? I’ll be good, I promise. And I’ll work hard. At school, of course. But at home, too. I can do lots of things around the house. I know how to cook and clean…. You won’t be sorry. I’ll be good. Please!”

  But even as I begged, I saw her eyes look away and she pulled her hand back, and I knew my hope was gone. The room seemed to tilt.

  She pushed me down in the chair, and when the dizziness passed, I wanted to die…die and be with my mother and Grandma. It seemed like a good plan.

  “I am sorry, Cassie. I truly am. But Dick and I are just starting out. We just got married, and our apartment is small, and it would be too hard for us. Really it would.”

  I guess she saw how desperate I looked, for she added, “But you could come visit us. Give everybody a break. We could go out, maybe see a movie, maybe go bowling. Get a pizza. Ever had a pizza? It’s really good. Eye-tal-yin food, but still good.”

  Well, at least I wouldn’t have to live with Hazel and Ernie. I don’t know what I’d do if they came to stay.

  Actually, I did know. If I couldn’t die, I’d run away.

  Chapter Six

  Everyone except Mabel left the next day, with their cars packed to the brim with boxes and bags of loot. That’s the way I looked at it – looters carting off whatever they could grab.

  “Shirley would want me to have this,” I heard many times. Or, “Shirley promised me this if…you know.” “When? When did she say you could have that vase? I know she promised it to me.”

  And so on.

  What about leaving stuff here for me to live with? At least no one stole the toaster and teakettle.

  Fred left to go back to his job and Mabel stayed behind to take care of me. I wondered if Mabel minded not living with her husband anymore. If I were her, I’d be thrilled. He chewed tobacco and then spit the wad into a tin can. And he’d stick his finger in his ear and wiggle it around and then look at it to see what he pulled out. Ugh.

  The next day, coming home from school, I saw a sign – FOR SALE – on our front lawn. And I wondered what Mabel was selling. Maybe the heavy dining-room set? The looters couldn’t get that in a car.

  By the end of the week, a sticker – SOLD – was stuck across FOR SALE. I went inside, expecting to see Grandma’s furniture gone, but instead I saw empty boxes piled in a heap.

  “You may fill two, Cass, and not one more,” Mabel stated.

  “With what?”

  “Well, I’m sure I don’t know. Whatever you think is important. But only two boxes, mind. Fred and I don’t have a lot of room in our house for junk.”

  “Aunt Mabel? Why would I take my belongings to Uncle Fred’s house?”

  Mabel stopped folding towels and looked me over as if she’d never seen me before. “I’ll tell you this much, Cass Jovanovich. When you’re living under my roof, you’ll watch your tongue and not be such a smart aleck. You know very well I’ve sold this house, and you’re coming home with me.”

  Didn’t see those dots at all. What a fool. I guess Patty’s mom did say someone would take me home with them. Didn’t pay attention.

  I filled my two boxes with my best clothes and shoes and my Barbie doll. And Rita’s photograph, of course – unstuck from my bureau and rolled up in the leg of a pair of tights until I could find another place for it. And I had a framed photo of Grandma and me from last year.

  Mabel didn’t let me bring any furniture from my bedroom. What she couldn’t sell, she gave to the church.

  Empty house. How big it seemed without Grandma’s belongings.

  I remember a moving van. I remember the backseat of Uncle Fred’s Chevrolet. I remember getting to my knees to watch Grandma’s house get smaller and smaller as we drove up the street.

  There are a few other things. I don’t really know where they fit. But I do know they belong to my life with Grandma. I want to leave them there with her.

  My hair scotch-taped across my forehead so Grandma could cut my bangs,

  Grandma knitting a popcorn sweater – white, with yellow duck buttons,

  A first ride on the subway. Hiding my face in Grandma’s skirt as the train rushed into the station,

  A trip to Eaton’s. Rubbing the brass toe for luck. Up the escalator, terrified I’d be sucked underneath the wooden slats,

  A photo with Santa,

  A picnic in Woodbridge. A new bathing suit – white stripes turned brown in the Humber River,

  Feeding the deer in High Park and carrots in Grandma’s pocket,

  Grandma soaking off labels from tins of Campbell’s Soup. A Campbell’s Soup doll arriving in the mail,

  Grandma giving me my very own record – “The Purple People Eater,”

  Cutting out felt reindeer for my Christmas stocking with Grandma’s pinking shears,

  Reading in Grandma’s lap,

  Reading in Grandma’s lap,

  Reading in Grandma’s lap.

  Around the bend, and Grandma’s house is gone.

  «««

  Leanna is a fast reader, so why did she take so long to read my first bit of writing? I watched her face. Was it any good? Did she like it? She went back over some pages, and she smiled, and she frowned, and her mouth hung open at one point. I thought I’d scream if she didn’t hurry up! I went to the bathroom. I made tea. And she was still reading!!

  Finally.

  “I didn’t know. I had no idea. This is so good! Wait! That’s not what I mean! I mean, what happened to you is awful, but it’s like a book. It is! I can’t wait to find out…” She clasped her hands over her mouth and looked at me in horror.

  “What you’re trying to say, Leanna Mets, is you like my writing?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes! Gosh, yes! If it wasn’t you, someone I love, well…”

  The look in her eyes made me feel so proud. It was a strange feeling, not one I’m used to. “I’m going to write all Christmas vacation,” I told her. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

  Chapter Seven

  The walls of the “guest room” were mustard-yellow. The quilt was di
rty-brown. I lay on the bed like a hot dog.

  “We don’t have guests,” Mabel said. She sounded pleased with herself. “No need to be wasting space setting aside a large room.”

  “Unless someone comes from the old country,” Fred added. “But we don’t encourage visiting.”

  The bed was tiny and squeaked when I moved. “Can we fix it?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Fred told me. “Like to know what you’re up to.”

  There was a narrow desk and a wooden chair and a closet the size of a kitchen cupboard and a squat dresser with three drawers. I had to inch around it to get to the bed. There was nothing on the walls.

  “Can we hang my picture of Grandma?” I asked.

  “Nope. No nails in the walls. Might move one day. Don’t want to be plastering and repainting.”

  “Besides,” said Mabel, “we don’t know how long you’re staying.”

  That surprised me. “Aren’t I adopted?”

  They were as surprised as me and laughed. “What for? You’re family. That should be good enough for any nosey parkers.” I did not know what she meant.

  They left me to unpack, and when I got off the bed – squeak – to close the door, Mabel was back in a moment. “You’ll leave your door open. We’ll have no goings-on in this house.”

  I didn’t know what she meant by that, either. But I put my clothes away and Barbie on the bed and snuck Rita’s photo out of my tights and slid it between the dresser and the wall. I put my framed picture on top of the dresser to one side and Grandma’s hairbrush set in the center.

  It was a miracle I had it.

  “Shirley wanted Lana to have this,” Hazel said one night, seeing it in my room at Grandma’s house. She picked up the brush and comb, but before she could touch the hand mirror, I was out of my bed and lunging.

  “Give me that! Put it down!” I screeched. “It’s mine! Grandma gave it to me! She did!”

  “She never!” Hazel replied. But I was on her and pulling, and when I screamed she let go of the brush and slapped me across the mouth.