Hello Loved Ones (47 page)

Only later would Sally remember sitting at that table and realize the honor of being invited. The Valkemas had seen it first, before she’d seen it herself. She was growing up. Speeding along in Voss’ Galaxie 500, in this separate and alien universe, she recalled something else: Mr. Valkema saying to Mrs. Dorn
is that a new hairstyle, Regina?
Mrs. Dorn blushing and giggling like a girl, her fingertips brushing her bangs. Sally saw it now. They were
only people
. People who had known each other since grade school and still thought of one another as the child, then the teenager, each of them had been. Bald spots, hanging jowls, burgeoning waists —those didn’t cloud the truth: no one really changes.

She understood, too, that being grown-up isn’t who you are. It’s what you do. That’s why her mother couldn’t come to Grand Rapids with her. This was one of those grown-up moments when you can’t hold mommy’s hand. It
has
to be hard.

“You know…” Voss said tentatively. “What you just asked. Well. I once knew a woman who became pregnant, and she was so afraid to have the baby that she tried to end the pregnancy herself, with a knitting needle.”

Sally was listening to the faint, rhythmic thwacking sound of the tires on the highway. It was so soothing. She wished he would be quiet. “Hmmm,” she said.

“Imagine that,” he said.

She didn’t answer. Vibrations were rising from the pavement, up through her legs and into her hollow belly.

“Imagine it,” he repeated, fervently, so that she realized he wasn’t being rhetorical.

“I’d rather not.” Then, in spite of herself, “What happened?”

She saw him swallow.

“What would you say if I told you that the woman was your mother? The baby was you.”

Sally went on looking at his Adam’s apple. It was like a large walnut stuck in his throat, bobbing about. Watching it, she thought she might gag. She put her hand over her mouth.

“Do you see?”

“Don’t speak to me,” she said sharply. She understood now that she had to protect herself from these people, these reckless, childish people masquerading as adults. As
parents
. She felt ferocious, like a mother bear protecting her cub. But she wasn’t protecting her baby. She was only protecting the part of herself that still believed she could get through this.
She had to get through this!

“You asked why I’m doing this,” he said defensively, his expression open and wounded.

She shook her head and groaned softly. She couldn’t take one more word! Her mother
loved
her. Before she’d ever seen Sally’s face, or held her in her arms, she’d loved her. That was the kind of woman she was.

But oh, the clarity! Sally could see how her mother would feel, pregnant with an unwanted child. She knew the desperation. She felt its stranglehold on her even now, tightening by the second. Still, to pick up something sharp, and put it
there
. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the thought of it.

“What else you got?” she said, her heart pounding fearfully. He was no different than a bully on a playground. The only way to end this was to push back. “Come on! Get it all off your chest.”

His voice was so low, he might have been talking to himself. “I drove her to it. And then I hated her for it. Part of me hated you too, I guess. And another part…” he stopped and grimaced. “….
didn’t
.”

There was a long pause.

“Do you see?” he said again.

But the question of her mother’s love for her was a black hole Sally was falling through. Dizzy and confused, she only knew that when the pain of it hit her, she’d die. She held fast to her knees and felt them shaking.
It’s not so bad
, she told herself.
Not so bad
. It didn’t change her situation, or stop her from straightening her own life out. Once this was finished she could walk away from her mistakes. Like her mother had tried to. Like Richard did. And now Voss. Yes, just like
them
, said some internal voice, weighted with disapproval. She felt her jaw clench. So what? Why not me, too!

Voss put a hand on her arm. “Sally, you shouldn’t have lived. But you did. And you’re all the more precious to Prudy because of it.”

“
Precious?
” She was incredulous.

“That’s how she feels!”

The word conjured all things baby: knit booties, downy soft sleepers, crocheted caps, plush stuffed puppies. Aside from the day Prudy took Sally to see Dr. Maas, Sally hadn’t allowed herself to think about a
real baby
. Now, images flashed before her like a giant accordion-folded photo sleeve flipping open. Prudy holding a baby, her lips pursed against chubby infant cheeks. (Was it Sally or Lenny or Nell? They had all looked the same. The
same!
) Lenny holding the tiny pigtail he’d cut from Sally’s head, defiantly staking his claim as big brother. Nell, five years old, smiling shyly, with baby Sally cradled stiffly in her arms. There was comfort remembering, comfort Sally didn’t deserve. Or want. Not now, when it was too late for her. She’d made up her mind.

“I don’t understand!” she cried. “Are you telling me to reconsider?”

“No! I’m saying your mother doesn’t judge you. And neither do I.”

“But you do! You always have!”

“I was wrong! Haven’t I said that?”

She stared at him. “No! Never!”

He looked flustered. His hands began massaging the steering wheel, and his words, when they finally came, were choked. “All anybody wants is to get the Lord’s attention. We try to do what’s right. When that doesn’t work, we screw up. Just to test him, I suppose. I don’t know why. I really don’t.”

What did he mean? Was she making a mistake? Or fixing one? She searched his face but it was twisted as he fought against something. Only the tremor in his chin told her. Not only did he not know anything about her, he didn’t know anything
period
.

And yet. Sally was suddenly and inexplicably grateful. He was trying to tell her something, however bumbled and impossible to understand. He was letting her see his uncertainty, his confusion. For the first time, looking at him, she saw herself.

“You sound sort of like a real person,” she said, begrudgingly. “For once.”

His laugh of relief filled the car, startling her. He swiped a finger under one eye and said, “Sally, I am truly glad to know you.”

He shook her hand then, and his touch made her wonder, fleetingly, what other discoveries might be made. She hesitated, wistful. If only he weren’t so… Oh, he was just so stiff and flat, like a face on a milk carton! One of those missing persons you stare at every morning until you can picture every feature inside your eyelids, so familiar that you come to believe it’s someone you know. But, really, are those people ever found?

They exited the highway and merged into slow moving downtown traffic.

“Here we are,” he said, a moment later. “I’m dropping you at the Carmichael hotel. A car will come for you.”

She stared at the building before them, a stately red brick affair, with smooth white columns and a gold-edged revolving door that shone in the late day sun.

“I’m going alone?”

“There will be other girls. You’ll all go together.”

“But why can’t you drive me? I thought—” That he’d be waiting just outside the door while she did this. Providing moral support. Immediately she saw the joke there.

“This is the way it’s done. The less you know, the better.”

“That sounds so ominous! Am I going to be arrested?”

“Try to relax. It’s very safe.”

Somehow she knew, hearing him say that, that it was not at all safe. She was breaking the law. And putting her life in a stranger’s hands. She could
die.
She could bleed to death and she would have no idea where she was. She drew a deep, shaky breath. She wanted her mother! Just to lay her head on that sloping valley between her mother’s neck and breast, her arms about Prudy’s soft waist, just to feel safe. Would she ever have that again?

“You have the envelope?” he asked.

She felt for her purse, nodding. The car door opened and a man in a burgundy uniform offered his hand.

“Go on,” the pastor said gently. “I’ll see you later.”

She took the gloved hand and stepped out.

“Good evening, miss. Lovely night, isn’t it?”

Surprised, she looked around. She hadn’t noticed, but yes, the sky was awash with a pink, pearly light, like the underbelly of a seashell. The air was humming with the sounds of insects and birds and cars and the conservations of passers-by. So much life!

She watched the pastor’s Ford pull away and willed herself to climb the steps and push her way inside. Beside the revolving door stood a gray-haired woman who smiled at her.

“Right over there please.” She pointed to a group of girls standing awkwardly in the lobby and Sally joined them with slow, self-conscious steps. There were five of them, plus Sally made six. Nobody acknowledged her, and she said nothing, though they all stole glances at one another. First she noticed their dresses, each a solid color, like hers. Vivid red, pale lilac, buttery soft yellow, a sea foam green, and one truly awful orange. The girl in red was fresh-faced and pretty. She had pierced ears and wore tiny diamond chip earrings.
Wealthy.
The yellow girl was enormously large, with ankles that bulged over the backs of her pumps. Miss Lilac had a lovely, soft-flowing dress, though she was angular and rough-looking and kept tossing her black hair so strenuously that Sally wondered if it was a nervous tick. The girl in green was another beauty, the porcelain, fragile kind, and she was chewing gum with teeny rabbit chews. Orange disaster would have been the most ordinary of all, except that she had heavily penciled eyebrows punctuating her face. What a statement
they
made, though Sally just knew she had not drawn them on herself.
Here!
they said.
Be pretty. Be normal
. This girl didn’t stop looking at the floor and Sally was disappointed. She wanted to catch her eye, but maybe that wasn’t
done
.

They stood for what seemed an eternity, pretending to admire the paintings on the walls and the thick Oriental rugs, swaying slightly to the sound of piano and violins, a perky waltz that emanated from the very walls, when the girl in red startled the group with a dramatic sigh. Throwing her arms up, she said, “I wish we could
dance.
” She looked at each of them expectantly, awaiting a reaction.

“What?” she said, wide-eyed. “It’s supposed to be a
party
. Remember?”

“Shut up,” Sally said in a low voice.

Miss Red scowled and elbowed the large girl beside her. “What’s with
her?
”

When this got no response, she whispered loudly, “It’s called
acting
.” Her face fell into a pout. “I’m going to be an actress.”

Sally looked at the orange girl and saw a tear slip down her cheek. She sighed and turned away, wondering how long they would have to wait. She had to go to the bathroom. Then, thankfully, the woman was rushing toward them, beckoning wildly.

“Come now! The cars are here!”

They were loaded three girls to a car and Sally’s stomach lurched again. She was so sick of riding in cars! Cars were supposed to mean freedom and fun, but she knew that, for the rest of her life, every time she rode in a car she’d feel nauseated and trapped. And when the driver, a large-nosed, faintly attractive young man, turned and held up three blue bandanas, saying “Cover your eyes, please. It’s a very short drive,” she wondered what would happen if she began to scream.

“Give ‘em here,” said the dark, bony girl, who was sitting in the middle. She tied one around Sea Foam Green’s eyes, then put Sally’s on quickly. Sally tried to thank her but her mouth was too dry to speak. A moment later the girl took Sally’s hand and squeezed it hard. They rode that way, holding hands, never speaking a word, until the driver told them they could look.

The car was slowing before a large Victorian house. They were hurried out and up the steps so quickly Sally became dizzy. A foyer, a coat rack, a gray tweed overcoat, a woman’s khaki blazer. Colorful medals in a framed box on the wall. Flowers on a table. A parlor with a gargantuan fireplace made of stone, a deer head mounted beside. A woman, with gray hair like the first, greeting them in a strange voice. British? A table in one corner covered with refreshments.

“Weak herbal tea,” the woman said. “Fruit juices. For
after
. Cookies and biscuits and sweets.” She turned and smiled gently. “Piece of cake.”

Sally stared at her dumbly, not sure if she was referring to the procedure or the dessert tray. It was all so strange! She hadn’t expected these
grandmothers
, if that’s what they were. She tried to get a closer look. Maybe they were wearing wigs. Under cover, just like Julie on The Mod Squad! But no one else seemed worried about being thrown against the wall and slapped with handcuffs. Girls were sitting on the couch, reading magazines, or chatting quietly with one another. Several stood in line at the refreshment table and waited to be handed a cup of tea. Slowly, moving as if through water, she joined them. She didn’t want the tea, but it would ease the wait.