Dream When You're Feeling Blue (19 page)

She and Louise were bareheaded, so they bobby-pinned hankies on their heads before they entered the cathedral. Very few people were in line for the confessionals; the sisters took their place behind one man. When he went in, he spoke so loudly they could hear almost every word. Kitty and Louise looked at each other and laughed; then Kitty sang songs in her head so that she wouldn’t listen anymore.
It’ll be so nice when my man comes home,
she “sang” in a jazzy, sultry way she’d never be able to do for real.
He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way,
she sang.
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,
she started, but oh, that was much too sad. She moved to “Jukebox Saturday Night.” Singing in her head worked fairly well to distract her from listening to the man’s confession, but Kitty couldn’t help but hear him admit that he’d gotten drunk six times, mostly because the man practically yelled that one. It made her wonder if the sixth time wasn’t right now. When the man came out of the booth, the sisters looked pointedly away from him. Then Louise straightened her shoulders and went in, and when she came out, it was clear she’d been crying. She made her way to the altar rail, where she knelt and bowed her head, her hands clasped before her. Kitty wanted to reach into the confessional and throttle the priest. “Did you have to make her cry?” she wanted to say.

Kitty’s turn. She took in a breath and entered the confessional. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she looked up at the crucifix hanging on the wall, and it came to her that if Jesus could speak, He’d say, “Never mind that priest, your sister is a good girl, and I love her.” She wished that when she went to confession Jesus really would be there, for surely He would speak to her with great compassion and wisdom. The priests were all right, but Kitty could never help thinking about how they were really just men in there, wearing boxers and T-shirts beneath their black suits.

The sliding door opened, and Kitty jumped. Then she said softly, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” And her toes curled inside her shoes as she began her recitation of wrongdoings.

After they had completed their penance, the sisters lit candles for Julian and for Michael, and an extra one for all the fighting men. “And their families, too?” Kitty whispered, and Louise whispered back, “I think we have to buy another candle for that much.” Kitty put more coins in the slot, and together the sisters lit one more candle, their faces solemn and pleading. Then they walked slowly toward the streetcar that would take them home. Louise didn’t speak until Kitty finally said, “You okay?”

Louise smiled. “Yes. It will be hard to tell Ma and Pop, but in a way I’m relieved to do it.”

“Want me to help?” Though if the truth be told, Kitty had no idea how she would do that.

“No, thanks. I think I know what I want to say. But I’ll be glad to have you around afterward. Gosh, I hope they don’t…Well. anyway, I’ll be glad to have you there.
Will
you be there, even if it takes a long time when I tell them?”

“’Course I’ll be there,” Kitty said. “I’ll always be there.”

“I know,” Louise said, and her voice was small, like a little girl’s.

The streetcar arrived, and after the girls boarded, Kitty said, “Guess what? Next time I go downtown, I’m buying you one of those nightgowns.”

Louise shook her head. “Don’t. They’re too expensive, and I don’t need one. But thanks.”

“What color do you want?”

“I don’t want one, Kitty! Honest, I really don’t. I’d rather have pots and pans. Truly.” She stared out the window. Snow was starting to fall.

“What color?” Kitty persisted.

“Butter yellow,” Louise said. And then she turned to her sister and smiled. They rode the rest of the way in silence, each imagining what their parents would say when they heard the news.

AT HOME, THE SISTERS HUNG UP THEIR COATS.
Then Louise nodded at Kitty, took in a deep breath, and headed for the kitchen to find Margaret. Their mother would get told first; Frank would be given the news after dinner—that way, Louise wouldn’t be working against the irritation Frank always felt when he was hungry. And Margaret would have had time to calm down and might be able to help Louise with Frank.

Kitty found Binks sitting on the landing with his head in his hands, looking miserable. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“I hate the gum they have now,” he said. “It’s all grainy and you can’t blow bubbles. Your tongue goes right through.”

Kitty sat beside him. “Hmmm. Seems like a pretty long face for such a small problem.”

Binks said nothing.

“Is anything else wrong?” Kitty asked.

Now he burst out with his real concern. “I took the dime for my victory stamp and bought gum instead! And it wasn’t even good! And now I won’t have a stamp for school next week!”

Kitty spoke gently. “I think it’s okay for you to buy something for yourself sometimes, Binks. You don’t have to spend all your money on victory stamps.”

“I don’t! A couple of weeks ago I went to the matinee!”

“Well, you spend
almost
all of it on stamps. It’s okay if you skip once in a while.”

“Our teacher said our boys need it to save their lives.”

Suddenly, a great anger rose in Kitty. It was too much, all that was being thrust upon these children! First Tommy, now Binks. All well and good that they contribute to the war effort, that they be made aware of the fact that great events in history were occurring in the world. But didn’t they deserve some protection? Young boys delivered newspapers with stories about entire regiments of American boys wiped out.
Life
magazine regularly showed gruesome photos of the war, including a Japanese officer beheading a blindfolded American flier. And how did children feel about the posters? One showed a sad cocker spaniel with his chin resting on the middy blouse of a sailor, a sailor who would never come home. Another showed a bombed-out American home and car, and proclaimed ominously,
IT CAN HAPPEN HERE.
Even the poster of Uncle Sam saying
I WANT
YOU
must have been frightening to children, that white-bearded man with the lowered eyebrows and fierce expression on his face.

The children’s programs on the radio offered no relief: the Captain Midnight oath exhorting young listeners “to save my country from the dire peril it faces or perish in the attempt.” Superman, with his long-distance hearing and X-ray vision and supersonic flying speed, was now tracking down spies, as were the Green Hornet and Tom Mix. Hap Harrigan, Binks’s favorite hero, was an eighteen-year-old flying ace who constantly dodged bullets.

When kids went to matinees, cartoons showed Bugs Bunny on a Pacific island selling Japanese soldiers ice cream bars with grenades hidden inside, or Donald Duck singing a song about flatulence directed right in “Der Fuehrer’s Face.” Minnie Mouse talked about housewives saving fats. There were newsreels shown of actual fighting in air, land, and sea battles. Binks had told Kitty about this and had said that sometimes when those images were shown, kids cried. “Not me, though,” he’d hastily added. Even comic books had become war-oriented, featuring Captain Flight, V-Man, Pyroman.

Binks often lay on his stomach humming, drawing pictures of airplanes crashing, of cities burning. He had a “survival kit” in his closet consisting of a candle and a candy bar. At first, Kitty had thought it was kind of cute. But now she didn’t. Now she wondered if Tommy’s illness had less to do with any gastrointestinal problem and more to do with his constant worrying about the war. And here was little Binks, sitting devastated on the steps because he’d had the audacity to buy himself a few pieces of crummy bubble gum.

Despite her anger, Kitty spoke calmly to her brother. “You know what, Binks? You’ve helped a lot already, and you’ll be helping more. But you get to have some fun, too, right? You get to have some things just for yourself. It’s not taking away from our boys for you to do that sometimes. They would want you to. Why, just before Julian got on the train, he said, ‘Make sure that Binks has a lot of fun.’”

“He did? Really?”

Kitty looked her brother in the eye and nodded gravely. It was a lie she’d told, but for good reason. She hoped that kept it from being a sin or there went her soul, back in the hamper.

Binks offered her a piece of gum. “Want a piece? You can’t blow bubbles, but otherwise it’s okay.”

“You keep it,” Kitty said.

From the kitchen came Margaret’s voice. “Binks! I told you I need some help peeling vegetables. I’ll never get this soup done in time for dinner.” There was the sound of running water, the clanging of pots, and then Margaret said, “For the last time, I want you to come in here and peel these carrots!”

“Ma?” Kitty heard Louise say. “Hey? I’ll do it.”

“He can do it,” Margaret said. “Marion Montgomery just telephoned to invite you girls to a come-as-you-are party. Tish has already gone, in her bathrobe no less, just out of the shower. That one never stops washing her hair. I tell her she’ll ruin it, once a week is enough, but she listens as well as the rest of you. You and Kitty go to the party. I’ll get the boys to help.
Binks!”

“Ma,” Louise said. “I need to talk to you.”

A sudden silence. And then, “I know you do,” Margaret said quietly.

Kitty wished she could see her mother’s face. And Louise’s. Instead, she took Binks’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go up to your bedroom, and I’ll play cards with you.”

“And that’s another thing,” Binks said. “Tommy’s in there taking a nap, which he always is, and I can’t even play in my own room! And it’s too cold to go outside.”

“Ah,” Kitty said. “Well then, you’ll just have to come to my room.”

“Can I?” Binks said. It was a rare treat for the boys to be allowed in the sisters’ room.

Kitty pulled her hand away from her brother’s, saying, “You’re all sticky. What have you been eating?”

“Molasses,” Binks said. “Hey, sis? Can we jump on your bed again?”

“Shhhhh!” Kitty told him. Margaret would soon have enough to carry on about. But Kitty put her finger to her lips and nodded at her brother. She liked jumping on the bed, too.

WHEN LOUISE CAME UPSTAIRS,
Kitty and Binks were coloring a picture of Santa Claus that Binks had drawn. Kitty told her little brother to go to his room and play cards with Tommy, who was up now, and with Billy, who moments ago had come banging in the front door yelling that he was starving to death.

After Binks left, Kitty turned expectantly to Louise.

Her sister shrugged.

“What did she say?” Kitty asked.

“She knew. Or at least she suspected. She said she’d noticed my chest was bigger, especially when she took that picture. And she said I hadn’t complained of cramps, like I always do on the first day. And she said a pregnant woman just has a certain look, and I had it. Do I have it?”

“I didn’t notice anything.”

Louise went to the mirror and leaned in close to look at herself, then turned away. “Maybe you have to have been p.g. yourself to see it. I don’t see a thing.”

“Come here and let me look,” Kitty said.

Louise came over to stand before her, and Kitty stared into her face. “Well…Maybe a little around the eyes,” she said.

“A little what?”

“I don’t know. A little pregnant. You have pregnant eyes.”

Louise laughed, but then her face grew serious and she said, “Really?” There was wonder in her voice, a softness. And so Kitty told her yes, there was definitely a change. Then she asked what else their mother had said.

“She wanted to know who else I’d told. I said only you. Then she just sat still for a long time, and it was awful because her face was so sad. I told her I was sorry, and she just kind of waved her hand, as though she were saying, Oh, never mind with
that.
I told her I’d been to confession, and that seemed to help a little bit. She said I shouldn’t tell Michael.”

“Why not?” Kitty asked.

“Because he can’t do anything about it right now. And it might worry or distract him. But I think I should tell him. I think he’d be glad. And anyway, I want him to share in this with me.”

“I know you do.”

Louise looked sharply at her. “How do you know?”

“I just…That’s how I’d be. I’d want the man to share it with me, even if he was far away.”

“Even if he was fighting a war?”

“Even then. And think how you can send him pictures that show you getting bigger.”

Louise pulled up her sweater and looked at her stomach. “You can’t tell anything yet.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Gosh. I’m pregnant! I’m so glad I went to confession.”

Kitty sat beside her sister and put her arm around her. “Is Ma going to tell Pop or are you?”

“I am, right after dinner,” Louise said, and now her voice betrayed her fear.

“What do you think it looks like now?” Kitty asked, wanting to distract her.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s a really really little
baby.”
She put her hand over her stomach. “It’s so…” She turned to her sister. “Oh, Kitty, just think. It’s me and Michael, together. Inside me, all the time! I think it’s wonderful, really. I know all the things that get said about women who aren’t married and have babies, but I don’t care. I’m glad I’m pregnant. If something happens to him, at least I’ll have his child.”