Cutler 1 - Dawn (11 page)

"Not so much and I shoulda lost a few pounds here and there. It'll come back on faster than you can shake a stick, you'll see. One thing about women my age, when they wanna gain weight, they just gotta smell food. Sometimes just looking at it will add a pound here and there," she joked. She kissed me on the cheek. "Congratulations, Dawn honey. Did you tell your daddy?"

"Yes."

"I bet his chest blew out some," she said, shaking her head.

"Momma, I got something to ask about the concert?'

"Oh?"

"Since it is a special occasion and all, do you think it would be all right for Philip Cutler to pick me up and take me? He promises to drive carefully and—"

"Did you ask your daddy?" she responded quickly.

"Uh-huh. He said we'll see, but I think if it's all right with you, it's all right with him."

Suddenly she looked so troubled and old staring back at me.

"It's not a long ride, Momma, and I really want to go with Philip. Other girls my age go for rides and on dates, but I haven't complained . . ."

She nodded. "I can't hold you back from growing up, Dawn. And I don't want to, but I don't want you to get serious with this boy . . . any boy yet. Don't be like me and give up your youth."

"Oh, Momma, I'm not getting married. I'm just going to the spring concert. Will it be all right?" I pleaded.

It was as if it took all her strength to do it, but she nodded.

"Oh, thank you, Momma." I hugged her again.

"Dawn, up," Fern called impatiently, jealous of all the affection Momma and I were passing between us. "Dawn, up."

"Her Highness is calling," Momma said, and then lay back against her pillow. I watched her with my heart in a turmoil: happy about my being about to go out on a date, but sad and aching with the sight of how slowly and painfully Momma spoke and moved.

Mr. Moore decided to double up my lessons for the rest of the week. Finally it was the day of the concert. At lunchtime Mr. Moore played the piano and I sang. Twice my voice cracked. He stopped playing and looked up at me.

"Now, Dawn," he said. "I want you to take a deep breath and calm yourself down before we go on."

"Oh, Mr. Moore, I can't do this!" I cried. "I don't know why I thought I could. But to sing a solo in front of all those people, most of whom go to the opera and to Broadway in New York City and know real talent—"

"You
are real talent," Mr. Moore said. "Do you think I would put you out on that stage alone if I didn't think so? Don't forget, Dawn, when you go out there, I go, too. Now, you're not going to let me down, are you?"

"No, sir," I said, nearly in tears.

"Remember when you told me once you wished you could be like a bird, high on a tree, singing freely into the wind and not worrying about who hears it and who doesn't?"

"Yes. I still do."

"Well, then, close your eyes and see yourself perched on that branch and then sing into the wind. After a while, just like a baby bird, you'll get your wings and fly. You'll soar, Dawn. I just know it," he said. Gone was his cherub smile and his impish grin; gone was the playful happy twinkle in his eyes. Instead, his face was stone serious, and his words and eyes filled me with confidence.

"Okay," I said softly, and we began again. This time I sang my heart out, and when we were finished, his face was flushed with satisfaction. He got up and kissed me on the cheek.

"You're ready," he said.

My heart was pounding with excitement and happiness as I hurried out of the music suite.

As soon as the last bell rang, I ran to find Jimmy and Daddy. I was paralyzed with nervousness and wanted to go straight home to get ready for the concert, scheduled for 8:00 P.M.

When we arrived home, Momma was lying in bed, her face more flushed than usual, and shivering something terrible. Fern had gotten into some of the kitchenware, but I could see Momma didn't know. We all gathered around her bed, and I felt her forehead.

"She's shivering, Daddy," I said, "but she feels feverish."

Momma's teeth chattered, and she turned her eyes to me and forced a smile.

"It's . . . just . . . a cold," she claimed.

"No, it's not, Momma. Whatever's been eating at you is getting worse."

"I'll be all right!" she cried.

"You will if you go to a doctor, Momma."

"Dawn's right, Sally Jean. We can't let this go on anymore. We're going to wrap you up real good and take you over to that hospital so they can look at you and give you some medicine fast," he said.

"Nooo!"
Momma cried. I tried to comfort her while Daddy gathered her warmest clothing. Then I helped him dress her. When I looked at Momma without her clothes, I was shocked at how thin she had gotten. Her ribs poked so hard against her skin, and all her bones looked like they were going to pop out. There were fever blotches all over her, too. I kept myself from crying and worked at getting her ready. When it came time to take her out, we discovered she couldn't walk on her own. Her legs ached too much.

"I'll carry her," Daddy said, barely holding back his own tears. I hurriedly dressed Fern. Momma didn't want us to, but we were all going to go along. Neither Jimmy nor I wanted to remain home and wait.

When we arrived I went in first and told the emergency room nurse about Momma. She had an attendant roll out a wheelchair, and we got Momma into it quickly. The hospital security guard helped get Momma in. He looked at Daddy oddly, like someone trying to remember someone he had known years ago. Daddy didn't notice anything but Mamma.

While we waited, Jimmy went to the gift store and brought back a lollypop for Fern. It kept her occupied, but it also smeared her face green. She had a baby's gibberish now, mixed with a real word or two, and often looked at other people waiting in the lobby and started blubbering at them. Some smiled; some were so worried about their loved ones, they could only stare blankly.

Finally, well over an hour later, a doctor sought us out. He had red hair and freckles and looked so young, I thought he couldn't bring anyone bad news. But I was wrong.

"How long has your wife had this cough and run fevers, Mr. Longchamp?" he asked Daddy.

"A while, on and off. She seemed to be getting better, so we didn't think much of it."

"She has consumption and very bad, too. Her lungs are so congested, it's amazing she can breathe," he said, not hiding his annoyance at Daddy.

But it wasn't Daddy's fault. Momma was the stubborn one, I wanted to shout. Daddy looked over-whelmed. He lowered his head and nodded. When I gazed at Jimmy, I saw him standing stiffly, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with anger and sorrow.

"I've rushed her into intensive care," the doctor continued, "and put her on oxygen. She looks like she's lost a great deal of weight," he added and shook his head.

"Can we see her?" I asked, tears streaming down my face.

"Just for five minutes," he said. "And I mean five minutes."

How could a man so young be so firm? I wondered. However, it made me feel he was a good doctor.

Silently, with only little Fern repeating "lolly, lolly," and reaching for the rest of her lollypop, we walked to the elevator. Fern was intrigued with it as Jimmy pushed two and it lifted us up. Her eyes went from side to side. I pressed her closely to me and kissed her soft pink cheek.

We followed the sign that directed us to the intensive care unit. When we opened the door, the head nurse came around her desk quickly to greet us.

"You can't bring a baby in here," she declared.

"I'll wait out here, Daddy," I said. "You and Jimmy go in first."

"I'll come out after a minute or two," Jimmy promised. I saw how much he wanted and needed to see Momma. There was a small couch and a chair in a special waiting room outside of intensive care. I took Fern in there and let her crawl around on the couch while we waited. Just about two minutes later Jimmy appeared. His eyes were red.

"Go on," he said quickly. "She wants to see you."

I handed Fern to him and hurried into the room. Momma was lying in the last bed on the right. She was in an oxygen tent. Daddy stood at the right of the bed holding her hand, When I came up beside her, Momma smiled and reached out to take my hand, too.

"I'll be all right, honey," she said. "You just do a wonderful singing job tonight."

"Oh, Momma, how can I sing with you lying here in the hospital?" I cried.

"You sure better," she said. "You know how proud me and your daddy are, and it's gonna make me a whole lot better knowing my little girl's singing for all those fancy people. Promise me you'll do it, Dawn, and not let my getting sick stop you. Promise."

"I promise, Momma."

"Good," she said. Then she beckoned me closer. "Dawn;" she said, her voice barely audible. I drew as close to the tent as I could. She was squeezing my hand as firmly as she was able to. "You must never think badly of us. We love you. Always remember that."

"Why should I think badly of you, Momma?" She closed her eyes.

"Momma?"

"I'm afraid your five minutes are up, and the doctor was very explicit about that," the intensive care nurse said.

I looked back at Momma. She had her eyes closed tightly, and her face looked more flushed than before.

"Momma!" I cried under my breath. I looked at Daddy. Tears were flowing freely down his face now, and he was staring at me so hard, I felt terrible for him.

We obeyed the nurse and started away. As soon as we left the intensive care unit, I turned to Daddy.

"Why did Momma say that, Daddy? What did she mean by 'you must never think badly of us'?"

"Part of her fever, I guess," he said. "She's a bit delirious. Let's go home," he said, and we went to fetch Jimmy and little Fern.

When we got home, we didn't have time to worry about Momma, although she was on our minds. We were too busy getting ready for the concert and trying to find a baby-sitter for Fern.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't bear the thought of making my singing debut without Momma present. Yet I'd promised her I would do my best, and I wasn't going to let her down.

I didn't have time to take a shower or shampoo my hair. Instead I brushed my hair a hundred times, giving it a soft, silky sheen, adding a blue ribbon for a nice dash of color.

At least I didn't have to worry about what I should wear. One of the good things about being in the school band and chorus was that we got to wear uniforms when we performed. The school uniform consisted of a white and black wool sweater and black skirt. After I put it on, I stood up and straightened my skirt. Then I stood back and gazed at myself, imagining myself standing there before all those fine people. I knew I had developed a young girl's figure and I filled out the school sweater better than most girls my age. For the first time I thought my fair skin, blond hair, and blue eyes were attractive. Was it terrible to suddenly become infatuated with yourself? I wondered. Would this bring me bad luck? I was afraid, but I couldn't help it. The girl in the mirror smiled with satisfaction.

Daddy came in then and told me that Mrs. Jackson, an old lady who lived down the hall from us, would be willing to watch Fern tonight. He also told me that he had given the hospital Mrs. Jackson's number in case we needed to be reached. After telling me that, Daddy took a step back, giving me a long admiring look.

"You look real beautiful, honey," Daddy said. "Real grown-up."

"Thank you, Daddy."

He held something in his hand.

"Before we left the hospital, your momma asked me to give you these to wear tonight, since it's such a special occasion."

He held out the precious string of pearls.

"Oh, Daddy," I said, nearly breathless. "I can't; I shouldn't. That's our insurance policy."

"No, no, Sally Jean said you must wear them," he insisted and put them on me. I looked down at the pearls gleaming soft and white and perfect and then gazed at myself in the mirror.

"They'll bring you luck," Daddy said and kissed me on the cheek. We heard a knock on the front door.

"It's Philip," Jimmy called from the other room. Daddy stepped back, his face suddenly serious again.

Philip was dressed in a blue suit and matching tie and looked very handsome.

"Hi," he said. "Boy, you look great."

"Thank you. So do you. Philip," I said. "This is my father."

"Oh, yes, I know. I've seen you around the school, sir," Philip said. "Waved to you once in a while."

"Yes," Daddy said, his eyes growing smaller and smaller.

"How's Mrs. Longchamp?" Philip asked. "Jimmy just told me that you had to take her to the hospital earlier."

"She's very sick, but we're hopeful," Daddy said. He looked from him to me, his face so somber.

"Well, we'd better get started," Philip said softly.

"Okay," I said. I grabbed my coat, and Philip moved forward quickly to help me put it on. Daddy and Jimmy stared, Daddy looking very troubled. Just as Philip and I reached the front door, I heard Jimmy call my name.

"I'll be right with you, Philip," I said. Philip went out, and I waited for Jimmy.

"Just wanted to wish you luck," he said and leaned forward quickly to kiss me on the cheek. "Good luck," he whispered and hurried back to the apartment. I stood there a moment, bringing my fingers to my cheek, and then I turned and went out into the night. It was full of stars. I hoped one was twinkling just for me.

7

When the Emerson Peabody School came into view, my heart began to pound so hard, I thought I might faint. That's how nervous I was, and when we turned into the school driveway and we saw the lines of expensive cars arriving, I couldn't stop myself from trembling.

The parents and guests were dressed tonight as though they were attending a performance at the Metropolitan Opera House. The women wore magnificent furs and diamond earrings. Under their warm, extravagant coats they wore silk dresses in the most beautiful colors I'd ever seen. The men were all in dark suits. Some people arrived in long limousines and had their doors opened by uniformed chauffeurs.

Philip drove us around to the side entrance used by the students performing in the concert. He stopped near the door to let me out.

"Wait," Philip said when I reached for the door handle. I turned back, and he simply stared for a moment. Then he leaned forward, brought his lips to mine, and kissed me.

"Dawn," he whispered. "I spend every night dreaming of kissing you and holding you . . ."

He started to kiss me again, but I heard the sound of the other students arriving. We were in the parking lot under the tall bright lights.

"Philip, they'll see us," I said and pulled back even though I was giddy with the nearness of him.

"Most of the girls around here wouldn't care," he said. "You're so bashful."

"I can't help it."

"It's all right. There's always later," he said, winking. "Good luck," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. It was barely a whisper.

"Wait!" he exclaimed. Then he jumped out and ran around the car to open my door for me as I gathered myself together.

"A star should be treated like a star," he said, reaching in to take my hand.

"Oh, Philip. I'm far from a star. I'm going to fall flat on my face." I cried, looking at the crowd of impressed students who stared.

"Nonsense, Miss Longchamp. By the end of the evening we'll have to fight off the autograph seekers. Good luck. I'll be sitting out there rooting for you." He held on to my hand.

"Thank you, Philip." I took a deep breath and looked toward the doorway. "Here I go," I said. Philip didn't release my hand.

"See you right after the concert," he said. "We'll get something to eat and then . . . we'll go to my favorite spot and look at the stars. Okay?"

He pleaded with his eyes and held on to my hand tightly.

"Yes," I whispered and felt as if I had surrendered myself to him already, just by agreeing to go.

He smiled and let go. Then he started toward the auditorium. I watched him for a moment, my heart still pounding. All three of the men in my life had kissed me and filled me with confidence. Buoyed by their good wishes and affection, I turned toward the entrance. I suddenly felt a little like Sleeping Beauty awakened by the kiss of the prince.

I entered the school with some of the other members of the chorus. We all headed down the corridor toward the music suite and the backstage area. We were to put our coats in the music suite and then go prepare for the concert: warming up our instruments and our voices.

"Hi, Dawn," Linda said, approaching me. "Are those real pearls?" she asked as soon as I had taken off my coat. At the word
pearls
other girls gathered around us, including Clara Sue.

"Yes, they are. They're my mother's and they're our family heirloom," I emphasized, looking down at them myself. I was terrified the string would break and I would lose them.

"It's so hard to tell real pearls from fake pearls nowadays," Clara Sue said. "At least, that's what my mother told me once."

"These are real," I insisted.

"They really don't go with what you're wearing," Linda said, smirking, "but if they're some sort of family good-luck piece, I suppose it's all right."

"Why don't we go to the girls room and freshen up. We've got a few minutes yet," Clara Sue suggested. As usual, when Clara Sue made a suggestion, the others quickly agreed.

"What's the matter," Linda said to me as they started out, "you too good to join us?"

"I hardly think I'm the one who's stuck-up, Linda."

"So?"

"There's plenty of time," Melissa Lee said. They all stared at me.

"Oh, all right," I said, actually surprised at their desire to include me. "I guess I should brush my hair."

The bathroom was crowded. Girls were making last-minute adjustments on their hair and freshening lipstick. Everyone was talking excitedly. There was an electricity in the air. I went to a mirror to check myself and suddenly realized all of Clara Sue's friends were around me.

"I love your hair tonight," Linda told me.

"Yes, I never saw it looking so radiant," Clara Sue said. The others nodded, these silly smiles on their faces.

Why were they all being so nice to me? I wondered. Did they always follow Clara Sue's lead like a bunch of sheep? Was it that Philip wanted me to be his girlfriend? Maybe he told Clara Sue once and for all to be nice to me.

"Do you smell something, girls?" Clara Sue suddenly asked. Everyone started sniffing. "Someone needs some perfume."

"What's that supposed to mean, Clara Sue?" I said, realizing all this friendliness was phony.

"Nothing. We're just thinking of you. Right, girls?" she said.

"Yeah," they replied in chorus, and on that cue everyone brought out a can of stink-bomb spray from behind her back and aimed it at me. A cloud of horrible putrescence hit me. I screamed and quickly covered my face and hair. The girls laughed and kept spraying over my uniform. They were in hysterics, some holding their stomachs, they were laughing so hard. Only Louise looked pained. She stepped back as if I might explode like a bomb.

"What's the matter?" Clara Sue asked. "Don't you like expensive perfume, or are you so used to cheap stuff you can't stand it?"

That made everyone laugh harder.

"What is this?" I cried. "How can I get it off?" Every time I spoke, it made the crowd of horrid girls laugh more. I rushed forward to the sink and started to wet a paper towel. Then I began wiping my sweater frantically.

"Who's the poor idiot who has to stand and sit beside her tonight?" Linda asked the dreadful audience. Someone screamed.

"That's not fair. Why should I be the one to suffer?" The laughter continued.

"It's getting late," Clara Sue announced. "We'll meet you on the stage, Dawn," she called as they all started out, leaving me to my horrible fate at the sink. I scrubbed at my sweater and skirt so hard the paper towel tore into shreds, but mere water had no effect.

Becoming more frantic, I took off the pearls carefully and then pulled my sweater off and shook it out. I didn't know what to do. Finally I sat down on the floor and cried. Where would I get another school uniform now? How could I go on stage smelling like this? I would have to stay in the bathroom and then go home.

I cried until I had no more tears and my head and throat ached. I felt as if a heavy blanket of defeat had been thrown over me. It weighed far too much for me to simply throw it off. My shoulders shook with my sobs. Poor Daddy and Jimmy. They were probably already out there in their seats anxious for me. Poor Momma lying in her hospital room and watching the clock, thinking soon I would be out on that stage.

I looked up when someone came in, and I saw it was Louise. She gazed at me quickly and then looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry," she said. "They made me do it, too. They said if I didn't, they would make up stories about me, just like they made them up about you."

I nodded.

"I should have expected something like this, but I was too excited to see through their false smiles," I said, standing up.

"Would you do me a favor? Would you go back to the music suite and get my coat for me? I can't put this back on," I said, indicating my sweater. "The odor is too strong."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? I'll go home."

"Oh, no, you can't. You just can't," she said, nearly in tears herself.

"Please, get me my coat, Louise."

She nodded and left, her head down. Poor Louise, I thought. She wanted to be different—she wanted to be nice—but the girls wouldn't let her, and she wasn't strong enough to stand against them.

Oh, why were girls like Clara Sue so cruel? They had so much—all the fancy clothes they wanted; they could get their hair done, their nails done, even their toenails! Their parents took them on wonderful trips, and they lived in big houses with enormous rooms of their own with big soft beds and floors of plush carpet. They never went to sleep in cold rooms, and they always had anything and everything they wanted to eat. If they ever got sick, they knew they had the best doctors and medical care available. Everyone respected their parents and their family names. They shouldn't be filled with jealousy. Why in the world did they resent me—me who'd had so little compared to them. My heart hardened against them as I stood there in the bathroom, became as small and as sharp as theirs.

A few moments later Louise returned, only she didn't have my coat; she had another school uniform.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, smiling through my tears.

"Mr. Moore. I found him in the hall and told him what had happened. He just went to the storage room quickly and got this out. It smells a little like mothballs, but—"

"Oh, that's far better than this!" I exclaimed, tossing the spoiled sweater aside and slipping out of my skirt as fast as I could. I slipped the new sweater on quickly and put on Momma's pearls. The sweater was a little tighter, clinging to my bosom and my ribs firmly, but as Momma always said, "Beggars can't be choosers."

"Does my hair smell? I don't think they got much spray on it." I leaned down so she could check.

"It's all right."

"Thank you, Louise." I hugged her to me. We heard all the instruments being tuned. "Let's hurry," I said and started out.

"Wait," Louise called. She picked up my smelly sweater and skirt with her right thumb and forefinger and held them away from herself. "I have an idea."

"What idea?"

"Follow me," she said. We left the bathroom. Everyone was in the backstage area warming up. Louise hurried back to the music suite. I followed, curious. "Keep your eyes on the hallway," she said.

She went to Clara Sue's beautiful soft blue cashmere coat and shoved my smelly sweater into it, closing the coat around it.

"Louise!" I couldn't help smiling. Louise was not usually this brave, and Clara Sue deserved it.

"I don't care. Besides, she won't blame it on me; she'll blame it on you," Louise said so nonchalantly, it made me laugh.

We hurried to the backstage area and our instruments. The girls who had been in the bathroom when I had been betrayed looked with curiosity as I entered. They soon realized I had another sweater and skirt on. Even so, Linda and Clara Sue pretended I still smelled awful.

Mr. Moore announced it was time for us to take our positions on the stage. We all marched out behind the closed curtains. I could hear the murmur of the audience as people took their seats.

"Ready, everyone?" Mr. Moore asked. He stopped beside me and squeezed my arm softly. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I said.

"You'll do fine," he said and then took his position. The curtain was opened and the audience responded with loud applause. The stage lights made it hard to look out at the crowd and distinguish faces easily, but after a while my eyes got used to the lights and I could see Jimmy and Daddy gazing up.

The chorus sang three songs, and then Mr. Moore nodded toward me. I stepped out to the front of the stage, and Mr. Moore went to the piano. The hush in the audience was deep, and I felt the warm lights on my face.

I didn't even remember beginning. Everything came naturally. Suddenly I had my head back, and I was singing to the world, singing into the wind, and hoping my voice would be carried all the way to Momma, who would close her eyes and hear me, as far away as she was.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high . . ."

When I sang my final note, I closed my eyes. For a moment I heard nothing, just a great silence, and then there was a thunder of applause. It rolled in from the audience like a wave rushing to shore, building and building until it hit with a crescendo that overwhelmed me. I looked at Mr. Moore. He was smiling from ear to ear and had his hand out and toward me.

I curtsied and stepped back. Looking through the audience, I found Daddy again and saw him clapping so hard his whole body shook. Jimmy was clapping, too, and smiling up at me. Someone squeezed my arm and then someone else and soon everyone in the chorus was congratulating me.

The entire chorus sang another song, and then the band played three numbers. The evening ended with the band playing "The Star-Spangled Banner" and then the Emerson Peabody school song. The moment the last note was sounded, the band and the chorus cheered and everyone congratulated everyone else, but girls and boys were coming to me especially. Boys shook my hand and girls hugged me. Some of the girls who had been in the bathroom earlier hugged me, too, all looking sorrowfully guilty. I accepted their hugs and squeezed them just as hard. My heart was too full and had no room for hate and anger at this moment.

"I don't think that was anything special," Clara Sue said, coming up behind me. "I'm sure I would have done a lot better, but Mr. Moore took pity on you and gave you the solo."

"You're a despicable person, Clara Sue Cutler," I said. "Someday you'll have no one but yourself."

When we all emerged in the hallway, we were greeted by our parents and friends. Daddy and Jimmy were standing by, both smiling proudly.

"You did good, Dawn. Just like I thought." Daddy hugged me to him and held me tightly. "Your momma will be awfully proud of you."

"I'm glad, Daddy."

"You were great," Jimmy said. "Better than you sound in the shower," he kidded. He kissed me again on the cheek. I looked past him and saw Philip standing by, waiting for his chance. When Jimmy stepped back, Philip approached.