28 Nov. 1916
My
Ma’s way of arguing with you is staring at you hard in the face. She does it with Pop all the time and even if
he’s yellin’ his head off, when she stares at him real hard there really isn’t
much he can do except look away. She did
it tonight when Pop came home from work.
I thought she was gonna make him cry the way she was looking at
him. It would have made me cry. Pop didn’t, though.
Ma
was in the kitchen of our apartment doing something, I think ironing, and I was
in the bedroom, supposed to be keeping my brothers and sister busy. I was having a pretty tough time of it,
though. They don’t wanna ever do
anything I like doing. I don’t
understand little kids. Ma says I don’t
have no patience, just like my father. I
tell her I don’t know what patience is and she tells me to go play with my
brothers and sister.
That’s
what I’m doing when Pop comes home. I
mostly tickle my brothers on the bed and they laugh and sometimes fall off and
then my sister laughs and we have a pretty good time, so I think I have some
patience, anyway. When I hear him come
in, I tell the other three to get real quiet.
They stare at me with wide eyes and all of us just sit, knowing the
yelling will start.
Ma
stopped her ironing when she heard the rattle of the doorknob. I could see her through the doorway of the
bedroom that leads to the kitchen. We
all sleep in the bedroom on cold nights and on warm nights Pop stays in the
kitchen with a worried look, deep lines running like rivers across his
forehead. I don’t know what he’s worried
about, but I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with money because Pop
comes home grumbling about wages this, wages that. Ma asks him where are his wages. Pop says he can’t understand how she can nag
him about wages all the time when they’re out the window as soon as he steps
through the door, what with so many mouths to feed and a roof to keep over our
heads. Ma says it wouldn’t matter, roof
or no roof, it’s so cold in here anyway.
"Alex,
what’s wages?" Irene asks me.
My
sister is four and she doesn’t understand much.
I put my hand over her mouth and we all lay back in the dark bedroom,
light from the kitchen spraying across the bedspread and the voices getting
loud and louder.
_______________________________________________________________________
30 Nov. 1916
Yesterday,
Ma took us kids down to Nesler’s Market to get some things. My sister, Irene, is four. I have two brothers, Howard and Ollie, who
are five and seven. I’m Alexander and
I’m ten, the oldest. Ma makes me take care
of the kids and I don’t know if I really take care of them because that’s
something adults do, but Ma is a lot nicer if I just agree and do like she
says.
I
got them all bundled up and we sat in the hallway right outside our door to
wait. It smells out in the hallway. There are no windows and mostly all of the
light bulbs are burnt out. The walls are
black and you can see bits of the wood floor from underneath the tattered carpeting. When we sit on the floor it’s cold, and we
can see tiny black specks that we think are droppings from mice. We’ve seen them scamping across our own floor
and it’s just on the other side of the door that we’re sitting up against, so
why couldn’t the mice get out here too?
Inside
our apartment, Ma was screamin’ herself red in the face, emptying out cans that
she stores money in, slamming cupboard doors when she finds Pop has found all
her hiding places. I wish Pop wouldn't
take all the money Ma hides. I don't
know exactly what he takes it for, but I think it's so he can put it in a
better hiding place than a tin can. I
hope Ma forgives him.
Finally
she came to the door. I scrambled the
kids to their feet and she cussed Pop out, even though he wasn't with us. I started to tell her that, but she said,
"let me talk Alex, just let me talk."
I let her talk, even though I’m not Pop.
When
we got outside, Ma hurried us along the sidewalk faster than we could run. It was cold; wind slapped at our faces, Irene
started to cry even though I was carrying her.
Ma doesn’t have a coat or mittens and by the time we got down the street
to Nesler’s Market, her hands were cracked and bleeding from the cold and the
wind. Irene’s ears were bright red and
snot from her nose ran down her lips, into her mouth. I swiped at her with my sleeve. Ma just
stared at me and I know I should have asked for a tissue instead, but I was too
cold and didn't think to ask for one.
Inside, people stared at us and
shook their heads. Ma keeps her face to
the floor and doesn’t seem to notice. I
notice though, and think real hard about askin' one of 'em what it is they're
starin' at, but I think I already know.
I look back at Ma to see if she's looked up yet, but she's still starin'
at the floor. I wonder what she’s
lookin’ at and almost ask her how she knows what she’s shoppin’ for if she
doesn’t ever look up. Mrs. Nesler greets
Ma at the counter then and asks about Pop, how he’s gettin’ on and has she
heard about the layoffs down at the plant where Pop and Mr. Nesler both
work. I wonder what a layoff is.
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