“What?”
“Say it. You heard me.”
“But I don’t know how. Why can’t Benjamin do it?”
“Me?”
Ida said, “Well, if none of you heathens is willing to say grace, I suppose I’ll have to do it. Bow your heads.”
“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts from thy bounty which we are about to receive.”
Abe said, “Amen. Boys?”
They mumbled the word.
Ida said, “Now, was that so hard?”
Arthur said, “Can we eat now?”
Alex banged on his high chair tray until everyone looked up. He extended his arm and made the sign of the cross in the air.
Ida teared up.
Abe slammed his fist on the table. “Look here, Ida. First you give him that Christ book he’s been coloring. Fine, it keeps him busy. But now he acts as if he’s the Pope of Rome. What the hell have you been teaching him, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“I didn’t teach him a blessed thing. The little angel has chosen the true church all on his own, haven’t you, sweetheart?”
Alex burped a splotch of applesauce onto his bib.
“Well, I don’t like it, not one bit. Alex, you cut that finger waving out, you hear?” For emphasis, Abe made a cross in the air. “None of that Holy Roller stuff no more, see?”
Alex said, “Peace be with you.”
Ida said, “And with you.”
Abe said, “Oh geez.”
Benjamin, holding his spoon in the air, said, “Can we eat now?”
Abe dipped his spoon into the soup. “What’s else are we having?”
“Fish. It’s Friday, what else would it be? You boys like Fin ’n Haddie?”
*
Shouts and laughter from the dinner table floated up to the bedroom like familiar friends, and Irene longed for the strength to go downstairs to join in the fun, or to tell her boys to mind their manners, anything to be in touch with the living, but now she felt forgotten, an invalid, worthless. It was dark now, broken only by a faint lamplight eking its way up the staircase and into the hallway outside. She wanted to eat, and her stomach made pinging sounds, but when she put a piece of bread into her mouth it seemed to just stay there until she spit it out in a lump.
She touched her cheeks and her forehead, and it felt as if the bones were forcing their way to the surface. She laughed quietly, well, at least I won’t have to go on a diet. She ran her hands over her thighs, her stomach, her hips and her breasts. She felt diminished.
As she was drifting off again she heard a voice from far away. She opened her eyes to see that it was Abe, only six feet away, and Alex, standing at the foot of the bed.
“Irene, are you awake? Irene?”
“Momma.”
His voice was like cool water. “Yes, Alex. I’m here.”
“I brought him up to see you like you asked.”
“Thank you. How are you, Alex?”
“Momma, I rode in the wagon and had sugar cookies and I saw Farmer Dar and Coco the Monkey. He’s brown and has fur and he got a cap on his head and he can jump, and then Arthur and Benjamin won a race.”
“What? Abe, what is he saying?”
Abe sighed and explained again about the fair, and how Alex’s brothers took him and looked after him.
“But you shouldn’t have let him go, Abe. How could you let him go? He could have been hurt. What’s wrong with you?” The bitterness rose in her throat.
“Irene, I told you twice now, he’s fine. See?” As if to prove it, Abe lifted Alex and turned him in a circle.
“Bring him to me.”
Abe moved two feet closer. “You have to be careful, The Dip could be catching still.”
“Alex, your mother loves you very much. Can you hear me, Alex?”
“I hear you, Momma.”
“Don’t let them hurt him, Abe.”
“Who? You mean the boys? They would never hurt him.”
“Don’t let them—” she began, but her cough overwhelmed her. She waved her hand, move him away from me, Abe, move him away, save him from this invisible monster that has me in its claws, that is eating me from the inside out, tearing at my lungs with its jagged teeth and acid tongue, please keep him safe.
Alex said, “Good night, Momma.”
*
Arthur and Benjamin, under orders from their grandmother, had cleared the table, swept the floor and set up the checkerboard. Ida poured hot water from the teakettle over the sink full of dishes.
Alex twisted in Abe’s arms like a cat that refused to be held until Abe released him. He monkey-dashed across the floor and plopped down next to his brothers.
Ida rolled her sleeves up to the elbow. Her broad forearms were blotched with liver spots. “How is she, Abe?”
“The same.” He set Irene’s cold, mostly uneaten dinner on the counter. “She couldn’t talk too much. She had one of those coughing fits.”
Ida shook soap flakes into the water. “You want to lend us a hand here? I know you’re supposed to be the lord of the manner, but I didn’t hire on to be your Irish scrub lady. I’ll wash, you dry. Here,” she said, offering him an apron, “put it on unless you want to get your shirt soaked. I work fast.”
The apron strings reached just halfway around his waist. He caught the gawks from his boys. “You three, stick to your checkers,” he said. He thought he heard Alex laugh. “Go ahead, Ida, I’ll be fine with this here towel.”
Abe dried in silence. He needed Ida at the house to look in on Irene tomorrow afternoon and into the early evening, when he’d be at The Squeaky Wheel for The Wheel’s annual Tournament de Darts, a rollicking good time not to be missed, and besides, he’d promised Davy O’Brien he would bring Alex along to watch him defend his crown.
“About tomorrow, Ida. I could really use your help here in the afternoon, at least to look in on Irene.”
“It’s Saturday. You don’t work Saturday. You need to stay home with your wife.”
“Dad said we’re supposed to watch Alex in the morning, Grandma,” Arthur said. “He said we can take him with us to East Liberty. In the wagon.”
Benjamin pushed a checker. “Your move, Alex.”
Abe glanced at his boys. Benjamin lay on one side of the checkerboard. Alex stood on the other, his arms folded across his chest, staring intently at the red and black squares, as if he were a two-foot, two-inch-tall Napoleon planning an invasion of Russia.
“The boy is with me in the afternoon. See there, Ida,” Abe said, trying to affect some jocularity in his voice, “you can take the morning off. Sleep until eleven.”
“Don’t talk to me as if I work for you.” She shoved the last dinner plate into his chest.
“No, it ain’t like that, Ida. I appreciate what you’re doing for us, for me and the boys, and for Irene, too, you can take my word on it. Let’s just see how this goes day by day. Who knows, maybe Irene will be up and around by Sunday, you never know.”
“Fine.” She untied her apron. “I’m going home now.”
“You want me to walk you?”
“I can walk myself.”
“Benjamin, Arthur. Get up and walk your grandmother home.”
“I said I’d—oh never mind, get your coats on, boys.” She pulled her scarf over her head. “Alex, come here, my little sweetheart.”
As she kissed him goodbye, she whispered in his ear that Jesus loves the littlest ones the best, and He’s given you special gifts, too, because He loves you so much, and Grandma loves you the best, too.
As Ida and the boys walked east toward Graham Street, Delia Novak passed them going the opposite direction, on her way to The Squeaky Wheel to ask John if he could use some extra bar help during the darts tournament the next day. She needed the money. She hoped Abe would be there.
Chapter 10
In the early 1900s, Pittsburgh’s East Liberty district featured an assortment of shops and entertainment venues for the rich and poor alike: bistros and beaneries, furriers and secondhand clothing stores, concert halls and penny movie arcades, majestic churches and street corner preachers, as well as a few discreet houses of prostitution, which welcomed all comers.
Of special interest to children was F.W. Woolworth’s, one of the nation’s first five and ten cents stores. Young shoppers could find stacks of the latest toys, from cap guns and yoyos to dolls and jump ropes. For a few cents, a kid could step right up to the soda fountain and order a cherry or vanilla Coke (which at the time contained a considerable amount of cocaine, which no doubt lead to its popularity among both children and adults alike); or, for a little more, step up to an ice cream sundae or float, a hot dog or a grilled cheese sandwich with real Heinz pickle chips thrown in, no extra charge. It was on the pennies, nickels, dimes and dollars of children and families like the Millers that a grateful F.W. was able to erect his 57-story Woolworth Skyscraper in mid-Manhattan.
Located in Woolworth’s basement, between the home goods and damaged merchandise, was the pet section, stocked with goldfish, hamsters, guinea pigs, parakeets and, two weeks prior to Easter, live chicks dyed pink, purple, orange and green. With a little luck from the gods of genetics, a handful of these birds actually lived more than a few days after purchase. Of course, there was no money-back guarantee on livestock.
Arthur and Benjamin were no strangers to the wonders of Woolworth’s. It was just a 10-minute walk from home. Irene had taken them there for Christmas blazers, which she purchased two sizes too large so they could wear them for at least two seasons.
As they crossed Ripley Street, Benjamin said, “Are you sure you remember the way, Arthur? We nev…never came here alone.
“Shut up, dummy. I come here plenty of times without you.”
“Whu…when?”
“Last week, when I cut school with Gross. Don’t you dare tell Dad.”
“I wouldn’t.”
They waited on the corner until a horse-drawn grocery wagon went by. “Alex, you still want to play Five Fingers, don’t you?”
Abe rose from the living room couch mid Saturday morning, feeling like a king rather than an indentured servant, since with Irene laid up there was no handwritten list of household chores lording over him. He could take his good old time luxuriating over breakfast, with little to do besides drink coffee and reread last night’s newspaper and enjoy the promise of the coming day, with the annual darts tournament only a few hours away. Then there was the prospect of seeing Delia again. She was bound to come to the tournament. He wondered what she’d be wearing.
The pile of laundry in the kitchen could wait until Irene felt better. What did he know about doing laundry, anyway? Maybe Ida would take care of it when she showed up later, although asking her to do it, now that would be tricky, he would have to finesse his way around that one. Maybe he ought to bring her a bottle. If he could afford it. Where the hell did all the money go, anyway? Irene would know, down to the penny.
It was awfully quiet for a Saturday morning. He called for his sons. Usually the boys were up by seven on Saturday mornings, laughing and yelling and carrying on so he couldn’t sleep, but there wasn’t so much as a peep or a scream or a glass breaking.
He checked their room. Empty. Even Alex was gone. They were up to something; lately, he’d been getting the feeling that Arthur was carrying on behind his back. He went out to the backyard. Nothing. He was about to canvas the neighborhood when he remembered Arthur had told him they were going to East Liberty that morning, with Alex. He let out his breath.
He eyed the half empty bottle of rye whiskey on the end table. How many nightcaps did he have? He couldn’t blame it on being upset about Irene, since he truly believed she’d pull through. Was he becoming a rummy, like half the boys at The Wheel? He swore he’d have nothing to drink this day, but then, hell, how could a man go to a tavern and have nothing but water or soda pop? He fingered the two dollars he’d been saving all week.
He had another cup of coffee, sliced some bread and added a hunk of cheddar cheese. He re-opened the newspaper. Halfway through the obituaries, he remembered to check on his wife.
*
It was the fashion for boys in the seventh grade to carry three-inch penknives to school. Their concealed blades were ideal for carving initials into desktops, they were nicely balanced for games of Mumblety-Peg and Stick It, and, just as important, they could inflict a nasty if not lethal wound, settling up a playground dispute.
Arthur’s plan was simple. He would sit Alex up on the display case where the knives were kept and ask a sales clerk to show one to him. Once the knife was on the countertop, Benjamin would create the diversion, claiming he was lost and he needed his mommy right away, which was an ideal role for him, since the plan already had him close to tears. When the clerk’s attention was diverted, Alex would make the snatch—who would ever suspect him?
Rolling through the Saturday shoppers on Woolworth’s first floor, Alex drew his customary crowd. The boys left the wagon on the first landing to the steps to the basement and swung Alex along, each brother holding a long arm.
The heist turned out to be even easier than Arthur had planned. When they arrived at the display case, a tray of penknives sat on the counter, as if it were waiting for them. The sales clerk, a roundish woman in a dark blue shift with a flowered silk scarf tied beneath her double chin, smiled at the boys as she tied price tags on the knives.
A short woman with a crying baby in a stroller asked the clerk if she might see a large carving knife in the case to her left, about six feet away. Naturally, the clerk waited on the woman first, since boys like Arthur were known to moon over knives and tops and cap guns forever, with no money to buy them.
Arthur winked at Alex. The tray would have been out of a normal child’s reach, but five seconds later a pearl-plated knife was in Alex’s hand, and then his brother’s. Arthur lifted Alex from the countertop and signaled for Benjamin. Passing by the woman with the baby, Alex fished her change purse from her handbag like an eagle plucking a trout.
Ten minutes later, Arthur and Benjamin were chomping on chocolate-covered éclairs with vanilla custard filling from Stagnato’s Bakery. They’d given Alex a sugar cookie. Benjamin reminded Arthur that their father had said he would kill them if they didn’t have Alex home by noon. For once Arthur agreed with him that they should play it safe. He opened the knife, and as they headed home, he whittled a small branch to “break it in.” Benjamin shuddered as he watched the chips fly.