I hope she is not making that up. She mostly tells me the truth, but she’ll stretch it to keep my feelings from getting hurt.
“Ya know what I been thinkin’ we could do?” Ethel says. “We could ask Ray Buck what buses to take and we could go see Sampson on a pretty Sunday. Ya know, to put your mind at ease.”
“That would be very nice,” I say, thinking I’m not sure that anything, not even seeing Sampson, could put my running-at-full-throttle mind at ease and I’m pretty sure she knows that. Her brain hasn’t exactly been just cruising along lately either.
Yesterday I was kneelin’ in our room, saying my rosary, begging the Virgin for help in taming Troo. Even though I don’t hardly believe in God anymore, I will always have a special place in my heart for His mother and a rosary is almost nothing but Hail Marys. Through my window, I heard Ethel telling Mother over the fence that Mrs. Galecki won’t stop accusing her of stealing and no matter how much Pepto she gives her, her stomach won’t stop bothering her. “I tell ya, Miss Helen, don’t know whether to wind a watch or bark at the moon,” is what my good friend said.
Dave, who is the chief cook and bottle washer when it comes to the Fourth of July party, cuts the music off from somewhere down below, and says out of the loudspeaker, “Welcome, one and all! Father Mickey will open up today’s festivities with a prayer.”
There is a screeching sound like there always is, and then, “Bless us, o Lord, on this day that brings us all together to celebrate the birth of this fine nation.” Father pauses the way Willie O’Hara does right before he gives you the punch line of one of his jokes. “If you could turn the sun down a notch, that would be greatly appreciated.”
Everybody chuckles. Everybody except me. I wish I knew what it was about Father that makes my tummy feel like somebody threw a baseball at it. He’s charming to everybody, but especially it seems to our family. He’s always friendly to me, he spent hours instructing my sister and he burned the midnight oil to make Mother and Dave’s dreams come true.
“The annulment letter came,” I tell Ethel.
“Know all ’bout that. Your mama come over first thing this mornin’ to tell me.” They’re friends, too. Not as good as me and Ethel are, but they get along just fine. “There’s nothin’ like a weddin’ party to liven things up, don’tcha think?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t.” The one where Hall and Mother got married at the courthouse was on Beggar’s Night so there were ghosts hangin’ everywhere. Nell and Eddie’s wedding almost gave me whiplash it went by so fast. But worst of all was what Bobby had in mind for our ceremony. “Ya know.” Ethel knows all about how Bobby told me on his way over to the lagoon that night that he was going to make me his bride. She’s the only one who will let me talk about what happened. Everybody else tells me to put it out of my mind, go back to sleep, let bygones be bygones, get control of my imagination, which I would really love to do, but no matter how hard I try to forget, it seems like that night at the lagoon is engraved in my memory.
Ethel runs her chocolate pudding hand down my arm and says, “Well, this here weddin’ is gonna be different. This’ll be a fine celebration. Gonna hafta get me a new pair of dancin’ shoes.”
I didn’t hear Mother say so, but I bet the party afterwards will be at Volpano’s Supper Club since it is the ultimate around here. The popular Mill Combo will play, so I could dance with Ray Buck, but what about Troo? Now that she knows what her future holds, what does she have to look forward to? Her life is all downhill from here on out. It’s not only the annulment news. She really was counting on winning that blue decorating ribbon and she didn’t even bring her bike over this morning. I checked after she ran off.
Dave gets back on and announces, “Children under twelve, you’re up next. Meet under the oak tree with the red ribbon near the picnic tables.”
“Here ya go, ladies,” Ray Buck says, coming back up the hill with our drinks. Gosh, he smells like he just stepped out of a tray of ice cubes. “How about after y’all drink that down we move over to the lagoon? I’ll row the both of ya ’round for a bit.”
Ethel gives me a wondering look. She knows I don’t go to the lagoon anymore or too close to the rowboats, but she doesn’t want to be rude and not ask me to join them. It would also be safer to take me since the boat is really gonna sag on her side and I could add a little more balance. I’m gonna save her the trouble of inviting me, even though I really would like to watch Ray Buck row us. He may be thin, but his chest and arms are muscular, which for some reason is something I really like to look at.
“You two have a good time,” I tell them. “Thank you for askin’ me, but I gotta go be with Troo.”
“And where is your sister?” Ethel says, not letting me off that easy. She hasn’t said anything, but she knows that Troo did not take the annulment news well. She doesn’t miss much. “I know what a momentous day this is for your sister. I’d like to wish her good luck.”
“Twelve and unders. Last call,” Dave says over the loud speaker.
“Troo’s… ah…” My eyes look the hardest they can down at the crowd. At first I don’t, but then, over near the judging area, just for a second, I get a glimpse of Troo’s hair. “Right there,” I say, moving my arm to where Dave told the twelve-and-under kids to gather to compete for the blue decorating ribbon. There’s gotta be at least forty or more kids. Why’s my sister hanging out where everybody’s waiting to be judged? That is so heartbreaking.
Ethel puts her hand to her forehead like an explorer. When she sees Troo, she says, “Lord. What in tarnation does that child got on? Is she blinkin’?”
What in tarnation does she got on? I’m not as tall as Ethel so I can’t really make out all of it, but Troo definitely is blinking. I gotta get down there.
“Ask for boat number six. It’s the one that’s rotted out the least. I’ll meet ya at the fireworks, same place as always,” I shout back to Ethel and Ray Buck.
Barreling down the hill toward my sister, I’m remembering how she was the Statue of Liberty last year and how we ran into Greasy Al and he took out his switchblade and cut off all the flowers she had taped onto her bike and squished her crown between his fingers. I haven’t forgotten him for one minute. Just because he hasn’t shown up yet doesn’t mean he’s not going to.
“Excuse me, pardon me…” I’ve got my arms out in front of me, swimming through the kids. I’m trying to get to Troo, who I’ve lost sight of now that I’m on flat ground. She’s been swallowed up again. Ahead of me, I can see Mary Lane floating through the crowd so easily because she can get through tight spaces that normal-sized children can’t. “Mary!” I shout. About twenty kids turn to look at me because I forgot to add on her last name. “Mary Lane!”
She looks to the left and to the right.
“Behind you!”
When she gets a bead on me, she stops and waits.
I shove closer until I get right up next to her. She’s got the Stars and Stripes tied around her neck with a jump rope.
Mary Lane says, “I been lookin’ all over the place for you. Ya like my costume?” She tries to spin around to show it off, but there’s not enough room with the crush of kids, even for her. “I’m a flagpole.”
I don’t know what to say to that, except, “You sure are.”
“Wish it’d get windier,” she says, trying to fluff the flag up. “Looks a lot better when it’s wavin’.”