Al Capone Shines My Shoes Part 24

"Jeez, Natalie. I wish you wouldn't do that," I tell my sister, who is curled up in a ball like a potato bug.

At least she's quiet. It could be a lot worse, I'm thinking, when I hear a knock on the door.

"Moose, can I come in?" Darby Trixle wipes his feet on the mat and steps inside without waiting for my answer.

"Uh, Officer Trixle, sir, my parents aren't here right now," I say, but it's too late, he's headed straight for our sofa.

"It's you I want to have the conversation with. How's she doin'?" He eyes Natalie, who is still curled up on the floor.

"Fine, sir," I whisper.

"She ain't fine, Moose. Now you look here. She ain't no reflection on you. I want you to know that."

"Yes, sir," I say, wishing he would just leave, but he settles in on the couch.

He pokes his chin in Natalie's direction. "Happens in families sometimes. You think I don't know how it is, but I do. I had me a brother wasn't right in the head. But my folks they did the right thing. Put him away with his own kind. And we got a clean slate. He was happier for it, we all were. That's the way to do it. Get a clean slate."

He waits for me to respond. "Yes, sir," I finally mutter.

"A girl like her. She don't belong. And this visiting back and forth." He waggles his head. "Can't have a pig half in the poke . . . you know what I'm saying?"

I look down at the coffee table, wishing I could pull it out from under his feet.

"You look at me when I'm speaking to you, boy."

"Yes, sir," I mutter.

He squints his eyes at me. "You ought to be taught right about this."

I can feel the anger grow inside me, until it just about bursts out of my skin. "Officer Trixle, sir?" I struggle to keep my voice under control. "Do you visit your brother?"

"That's what I'm saying, boy." He says this louder now, like I'm too stupid to understand. "You make a clean clean break. He got his life. I got mine." break. He got his life. I got mine."

"So you never visit. Ever," I whisper.

"You just move on from the bad things. You understand me, boy."

"She's not a bad thing," I whisper.

"You and your parents is too soft." He clucks. "I blame your dad. Women can't see these things right. They don't got the power up here." He points to his head. "But your dad, he's got his head where his a.r.s.e ought to be. I'm not gonna have you putting this whole island in jeopardy because you people is soft in the head, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," I whisper. "I hear you, but she's not soft in the head."

"You Flanagans"-he spits into his hanky, wads it up and stuffs it in his pocket-"can't see the forest for the trees. It's a shame really," he mutters softly, almost gently. "I feel bad for you. I do."

A SWEET SPOT FOR MOOSE.

Monday, September 9, and Tuesday, September 10, 1935

When my mom gets back, she stays with Natalie. The two of them hole up in Nat's room, Nat lying on the bed, her arms tucked under her as if she's flown apart and she's bringing herself together again. Fits exhaust Natalie. They exhaust my mom too. Sometimes it seems like there's still an umbilical cord between them.

After I get home from school the next day I head for the canteen with Annie, Jimmy, and Theresa. Jimmy doesn't say much. He helped me with Natalie when she was having her fit, but he still feels bad about not keeping his eyes on her the night Hoover was here. He goes down to check his flies, which now occupy two barrels under the dock. But he doesn't invite me down there. Not anymore.

While Jimmy's gone, Theresa and Annie and I help Bea unpack boxes. There really isn't that much to do.

Late in the afternoon, Mrs. Mattaman, Mrs. Caconi, Annie's mom, Bea and Janet Trixle come sweeping into the canteen, practically clearing out the baking aisle. Even Mrs. Caconi, who never buys from the canteen because she thinks the prices are too high, gets b.u.t.ter and eggs.

"What's going on, Mom?" Jimmy asks.

"Bea's closing up early so we can get the baking done."

"Why's everybody baking?" Theresa asks.

"Never you mind. You kids just run along." She waggles her fingers toward the door. "Outside with all of you."

Janet turns the wooden sign to CLOSED. She gives Theresa a smug little smile. "We're going up to Mrs. Caconi's apartment because little pitchers have big ears," Janet whispers to Theresa.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Theresa asks me.

"It means they don't want us to hear what they're going to say. But that's what secret pa.s.sageways are for, Theresa," I tell her.

Theresa smiles big as a Halloween pumpkin. There's a skip to her step as she, Annie, Jimmy, and I head for Chinatown. Jimmy works his screwdriver on the hinge and we scramble inside. "Shhh!" he orders. "We know they're up there."

"Icky!" Theresa whispers, whacking a cobweb out of her face.

"Quiet or you can't come," Jimmy warns.

By the time we get settled at the best eavesdropping spot, the women are already in Mrs. Caconi's living room.

"Now you mustn't talk that way. She's gonna pull through," Annie's mom says.

"Janet, you stay in the bedroom like I told you. Play with your dollies, all right?" Bea tells Janet. "I know a death rattle when I hear it. That woman is not long for this world." Bea sighs. "I wish I could say I didn't see this coming. I mean, the doctor told her not to have any more."

"Oh now, Bea, these things happen," Mrs. Mattaman tells her.

"Well, you're not going to tell me he didn't want a boy more than life itself." Bea again.

"No guarantees it's gonna be a boy," Mrs. Caconi offers.

"Try telling the warden that," Bea says. "Got him signed up for military school and the sailing club already."

"That's up to G.o.d, not the warden," Annie's mom insists.

"I'll tell you what's up to us," Mrs. Mattaman declares. "Piper. I'll be the first to tell you she's not my favorite child. But right now she's all alone in that big house with her mama rushed off to the hospital sick enough to . . ." She takes a deep breath. "It's not right. Somebody has to go up there with her."

"I'll go," Mrs. Caconi offers. "I can cook in the warden's kitchen same as my own."

"Now let's hold our horses here, girls, and use our noggins. Who's the closest friend Piper's got?" Bea asks.

"Moose," Mrs. Mattaman replies.

"Ain't that the truth," Bea answers. "Those two and their googly eyes. Where is he?"

"We sent them out to play. Get them out of our hair," Annie's mom replies.

"That boy, my goodness. If there's a hand that needs a-holdin' he's the one for the job. I'll be darned if he didn't get me a rose one day when I was feeling down. Still can't figure that one out," Bea says.

"He's a nice boy. That's what. My Annie thinks the world of him," Mrs. Bomini says.

"Got a sweet spot for Moose is what your Annie has," Bea answers.

Annie's mom sighs. "I'm afraid so. But enough of that now, girls. We've got our work cut out for us."

"Annie," Theresa whispers, "you have a crush on Moose?"

But Annie has weaseled past Jimmy. She's crawling like a spider down the pa.s.sage to the door that opens with a squeal and closes with a crump. We can hear her distant footsteps running up the cement stairway that leads out of Chinatown.

My cheeks get hot with the thought that Annie has a crush on me. I don't like her in that way. I mean, Annie? She's a box with feet. But it's kind of nice to think she likes me-so long as it doesn't affect her pitching, that is.

But then I hear my name again and I can't think about Annie because I want to listen to what the ladies at Mrs. Caconi's are saying about me.

"Well, I'm gonna go find Moose and send him up there. We can't leave that child scared out of her wits and all alone. Poor little thing," Mrs. Mattaman says.

"You find Moose, we'll get the baking going. Then we'll figure out who goes to visit poor June," Bea commands.

"Get outta here, Moose, fast as you can," Jimmy whispers. He moves out of the way and I crawl back to the door and jump out with Theresa on my tail. I take the Chinatown stairs two at a time and run into Mrs. Mattaman as she heads out to the parade grounds.

"There you are, Moose," Mrs. Mattaman says as Theresa catches up. "And Theresa, you may as well hear this too."

Theresa grabs her mom's hand and holds it tight.

"Mrs. Williams is sick. They took her to St. Luke's Hospital in the city. She may not . . . She's very sick."

"She may not what?" Theresa asks.

"Now, never you mind," Mrs. Mattaman tells her.

"What about the baby?" I ask.

Mrs. Mattaman heaves a big breath. "Don't know yet about the baby." Her voice breaks.

"I knew it," Theresa whispers.

"You knew what?" Mrs. Mattaman strokes Theresa's tumble of black curls.

"She's not even going to get in trouble now," Theresa insists.

"Who isn't?"

"Piper."

"Theresa!" Mrs. Mattaman snaps. "That poor girl may lose her mommy. You're old enough to know what that means. Whether or not she should have been bawled out is beside the point."

"No, it's not," Theresa whispers.

"Shame on you." Mrs. Mattaman's jaw sets, her dark eyes fire up. "You wipe that look off your face, young lady, and march back home and wash your mouth out with soap."

Theresa's steps are heavy as she heads for home.

Mrs. Mattaman sighs. "She has a big heart for every other creature on G.o.d's green earth, but she sure can't find it in herself to be kind to Piper.

"Now, Moose." She focuses her attention back on me. "I know your mom's got her hands full with Natalie, so I'm going to step up to the plate. You get yourself up to the warden's house, young man. Piper needs a friend. Oh boy, does she ever. And if you can't forgive her, well, shame on you too. There isn't a friend in the world won't disappoint you one day. You going to hold a grudge, you'll have a mighty lonely life."

"I could get Annie. Wouldn't this be a better girl job?" I suggest.

Mrs. Mattaman looks at me intently. "C'mon now, Moose. I think we both know Piper would rather see you."

My eyes don't meet Mrs. Mattaman's. I hate to admit she's right. "What do you say to someone whose mother is that sick?" I ask.

Mrs. Mattaman seals her lips up tight and nods her head. "It's not what you say, Moose. Not one word any of us says is going to help that poor child right now. But you go up there and you stay with her. That's what she'll remember. That we loved her enough to go through this with her. We're a family here on Alcatraz and that's what families do. Now you go on."

"Yes, ma'am," I say.

"And, Moose? You want to bring her back down to our place, you go right ahead. She's welcome. You bet she is."

WHY ARE BOYS SPECIAL?.

Same day-Tuesday, September 10, 1935

I have walked as slowly as possible up the switchback, but even at this pace I get there before I want to. I drag myself up the steps to Piper's front door and push the bell. w.i.l.l.y One Arm answers with Molly on his shoulder. He makes the sign of the cross, his empty sleeve flapping in the breeze.

I follow w.i.l.l.y into the dark living room. The drapes are shut tight. No light shines anywhere. And the smell of sickness is all around like bandages and rotting fruit. I wonder why w.i.l.l.y can't get rid of the smell. Men are no good at cleaning even with two arms, my mom says.

I don't even begin to know what I'm going to say to Piper. And I'm a little annoyed with Mrs. Mattaman for sending me on this impossible mission. Why is it I'm the one everyone always decides can handle these things?

It's the curse of niceness, I swear.