Heft - By Liz Moore Page 0,15
sure that other pictures of him show him smiling. I am sure that several girls have pictures of him smiling & that sort of thing. I am sure that several girls have pictures of him without his knowing it.
He is happy in school, I can sense it, and I want to say to him congratulations. On the baseball field he is thunderous and frightening to his opponents. In general he is probably not a favorite amongst his teachers but if he tried he would be.
His friends uphold him as their compass.
At lunch he never has to search to find a seat. Little things like that. He barely even notices.
He congratulates his teammates with a slap of the hand. He thumps them on their backs and they thump him on his. His coach collars him about the neck when he has done especially well.
His mother, when I knew her, wore clothing that was bright as peacock feathers. She wore red lipstick. She was impossibly young. She was shy. She did not speak very much. She wrote to me. I was in love with her.
If they decide to visit I must be prepared. I have been thinking of all the various ways I can make the house presentable. & myself presentable. I have been asking myself, What would a young boy like to eat? and telling myself, He would like to eat potato salad, hamburgers, hot dogs, and steak.
I’ll have particular things for Charlene as well. I remember the things that she liked & I will make it a point to have them on hand.
• • •
After the debacle of the girl Yolanda’s visit, I decided to try to clean my house myself. I got as far as pulling all of the books out of the shelves to dust them but by the time I did this I was quite tired & I had to sit down for a while. & then I sat for a while more, & now the books are still on the floor in a pile.
About a month ago a family just moved into the brownstone next door, the one formerly occupied by Marie Spencer &, in the upstairs apartment, Marty. This family is perfect: a young husband and wife, their three tiny sons. They seem perpetually to be going to or coming from the park. Yesterday it was very warm for the end of October and I caught them all walking down the street at noon. The baby was in a stroller pushed by his daddy. The two older ones were scampering ahead like two puppies or foals in a field. Who among you works? I thought—as if I am one to say anything at all.
As I was spying on them, my new neighbors, one of the boys caught me watching and held up a small brave hand in my direction. A salute. I lowered the curtain quickly & imagined becoming terrifying to him, some blown-up Boo Radley. I vowed in that moment to introduce myself to them, to go out on my stoop and say hello. Marty would have wanted me to. I felt a pang in my gut and had to sit down.
But then, a few seconds later, there came a knock at my door & I turned around and parted the curtain again, ever so slightly, & saw it was the young father who was standing on my stoop. The rest of his family was waiting for him silently on the sidewalk. My heart began to pound. O my goodness, I thought. I wonder if he wants to yell at me. I wonder what he wants at all. But I was not able to find out because I could not will myself to move. I was too afraid.
Then I was angry with myself for several hours after that & to make up for it I decided to reconsider this girl Yolanda. You know I thought I was not going to have her back but I told myself I had to give her another try. For one thing I think I am growing allergic to all of the dust in my house, for my own attempts to clean make me very short of breath. I called Home-Maid yesterday and asked if they would come again.
The operator said “What time, please?”
“Eleven in the morning would be excellent.”
She paused. Then told me that I’d have Nancy this time.
“No,” I said, “I had Yolanda.”
“She’s booked then,” said the operator.
“When is she available, please?” I asked.
It’s not that I