Pride (13 page)

Gee, I hope Mom doesn't warm up any hot milk. I don't like milk much anyway, but hot milk can make me sick; it brings out the smell of cows even stronger.

It's fun unpacking, and each of us has two drawers to store our clothes. Dad and Mom are more fun and not so serious. I let Cannibal out and she decides to fight everything that hangs or moves, like the covers on the bed and a ball of dust in one of the corners.

I'm wishing we could stay here forever. Maybe Dad and I could get to building porches around Wildwood and make a good living. We'd never tell anybody I was here so they wouldn't make me go to school. Even in this one place I see plenty of porch work that needs to be done. There are at least four boards on the balcony that're cracked and need replacing, and I'm sure most of the posts holding up the balcony are rotting at the bottom because the floor of the balcony leans out and some of the railings are wobbly.

Later, down at the shower, under the toilet, I find that most of the wood is rotting from all the water. There must be at least a hundred places like this in Wildwood where we could fix things up. Dad doesn't need that darned J.L. for anything. We can be free. We'd just go back, pick up his tools, then live here. Those company goons could never find us.

We get unpacked and eat lunch. We eat apples and pears while Mom cooks some of the corn on a little hot plate in a pot we brought with us. Dad keeps feeling the wires to see if the hot plate is going to overheat them but it's O.K. After he's convinced the wires aren't getting hot, he goes out to the fuse box on the porch near the bathroom, unscrews one of the fuses, the one with the number of our room on it, and puts a penny down in the bottom of the hole, then screws the fuse back over it.

“That's not a very safe thing to do, usually, Dickie, but now we won't blow any fuses and those wires are heavy enough to hold any current we use. We'll have to cook here because we can't be going out to restaurants all the time, you know.”

I know. I've never even been to a restaurant; neither has Laurel. When I see movies of people at restaurants I try to figure it out. Somebody you don't see seems to do the cooking and then people all dressed up bring you the food and nobody ever does the dishes.

The corn is delicious; Mom even has plates, butter, and salt to go with it. We eat more fruit for dessert. We put the extra fruit back in the paper bag they gave us at the fruit stand and slide it far under the bed. Cannibal goes under to see what it is, maybe some kind of monster she can fight, but I squeeze under and pull her out.

It's sure hard catching a cat when it doesn't have a tail. She's still just as liable as not to bite my hand when I put it under her body pulling her away from something she wants to investigate.

After lunch, Dad goes out the door with his bathing suit over his shoulder.

“I'm going down to that shower and put on my suit. Who knows how many nice days like this we'll get. You people change up here, and when I come back I want everybody ready to jump into that big old ocean out there with me.”

Mom stops putting the eating things away and jams her hands on her hips.

“Don't be in such a hurry, Dick. Try to relax, enjoy yourself.”

“That's just what I'm going to do, honey, in that soft blue ocean: relax. You guys better be ready if you want to come with me.”

With that he's gone. I'm already slipping my shirt over my head. I know where my bathing suit is. I turn my back on Mom and Laurel and slip it on. I must have grown since summer because it's hard getting the straps over my shoulders.

When I turn around, Mom and Laurel are practically ready, too. Mom's wearing a bathing suit but she won't go in the ocean. For some reason she's always been afraid of the water, even little ponds or Morton pool.

“Put your clothes away, Dickie. If we're all going to live in this one room you've got to put your things away before they get spread all over the place.”

Laurel's already folding and putting her things in her drawer. She's like that even at home. It must be discouraging for my folks having a boy; I never think of putting things away, and even when I do, I usually forget again before I do it.

I put Cannibal in her box. She seems to like it in there; lots of times she crawls in herself when she wants to sleep. I think she'd even slide the top on if she could, just to feel safe.

“Can I take Cannibal with me, Mom?”

“What, take a cat to the beach? Oh, I guess so. But you ask your father.”

Just then, Dad comes to the door. He has his clothes over one arm and his towel on the other. He's wet and his hair's dripping as if he's already been in the ocean but I think he only took a shower. He's wearing his bathing suit with holes in the sides and the big K Mom's sewn on each of our suits. We all have black suits with big white K's sewn on them. Mom says it's so she can find us on any crowded beach or at any pool but I think it has something to do with her idea of being a family. Maybe it's my idea of being part of our family, too. I know I really like having a big K sewn on like that. It's as if our family is a varsity football team.

Dad doesn't come in the room except to lay his clothes on the chair just inside the door. He says I can take Cannibal with me if I want. Mom has the key and locks up after us. We're really going to walk down this little street and see the ocean. It's been so long for me I can hardly remember what it looks like, except it's big. Laurel says she doesn't remember the ocean at all.

We've both been swimming at League Island in Philadelphia summertimes but there's more people than water there. We've also gone out to Morton pool on some really hot days in summer, but that's almost the same thing, it's so crowded, and it's expensive; League Island's free.

Dad's put his arm around Mom's shoulders. She's holding on to Laurel's hand with her other hand and I'm behind with a towel in one hand and Cannibal in the other. I wonder what a tiny cat like Cannibal will think of a whole ocean. I'll bet the sand on that beach will seem like the biggest sandbox in the world. That might not be so good.

Dad lets go of Mom and spins around to see if I'm coming along. I smile. He smiles back. It's so great to see him smiling. He points at my chest then at the K on his own.

“Boy, Dickie, we look like the original members of those crazy Ku Klux Klan people in the South. Some niggers around here are liable to pull out knives and cut off our ears.”

Mom looks back, waiting up for me.

“At least I can always find all of you; you know how nervous I get when I don't know where you are.”

Dad turns, puts his arm around Mom again, kisses her on the shoulder.

“We won't have any trouble with crowds this time of year. We might even have that whole ocean to ourselves.”

“Well, I give my part of the ocean to you, Dick. If I'm going to drown, at least I want warm water.”

“Laura, I'll bet the water will be warmer than it's been any day in August. That ocean's been soaking up sun all summer and it's out there waiting for us. This visit to the shore might be the best thing that ever happened.”

He musses Mom's hair gently, slips his arm around her again. I look back.

At least there's practically nobody around to see them acting like lovers in some kind of lovey movie with John Boles and Greta Garbo.

“Don't worry about drowning, Laura honey. So far's I know there's never been a case yet of anybody drowning on the beach in the sand.”

“Please don't try to teach me swimming again, Dick, please! Let's just enjoy ourselves.”

“O.K., O.K. But you don't know what you're missing. Those kids of ours will be swimming circles around you and probably me too before this week is out.”

And Dad means it. He shows me how to reach out from my dog paddle I learned at the Morton pool and actually swing my arms over my head as if I'm really swimming. He makes me kick my legs hard, too, all the way from the hips, not just from the knees. I swim to him every time and he catches me.

“Now, Dickie, if you get a mouthful of water, the important thing is to be expecting it and spit it out like this.”

He ducks his head under water and spits a long stream of water in the air like a whale or a horse in the street, pissing upside down.

“Now you stay here and practice. I want to get Laurie swimming this year; she's big enough now.”

He strides in to where Laurie is playing at the edge of the water, running in and out as the waves chase her. Mom's just above the water's edge with our towels. I wave and she waves back. I know she's watching me every minute; there's no way I could ever drown, with her watching and Dad swimming the way he does; it's better than ten lifeguards. There aren't any real lifeguards at all; I guess they don't have them this time of year.

I try my new swimming a few more times. It isn't as much fun as it is swimming to Dad because I can't tell how far I've swum; the ocean is so big my little bit of swimming doesn't matter much; but still it's fun and I even learn to spit water the way Dad showed me. I see what Dad means. I'm beginning to feel how I'm going to enjoy the ocean all my life.

Dad holds Laurie under the stomach and is pulling her along, telling her how to kick and swing her arms. Most of the time he holds her almost completely out of the water, but sometimes he lets her down in some so she gets water over her face.

“Just float, Laurie, don't struggle so. Honest, the water will hold you up if you only relax. Try just lying out on the water.”

“Promise you won't let me go. Promise!”

“Don't worry. I promise.”

He supports her, moving her along some more, while she pulls her thin arms through the water and flutters her legs. She keeps pushing her hair back with her hands. I take another swim trying to make it ten strokes before I bring my feet down to the bottom. I'm always afraid I'll bring my feet down and there won't be any bottom there, and then I'll drown.

“See, Dickie; I'm swimming. I'm only six years old and I can swim already.”

“Yeah, that's great. But try it once without Daddy. You'll see. It's not so easy.”

I hate myself almost before I'm finished saying that. I guess I'm jealous, jealous over nothing. Dad looks at me quickly and there's some of the old sadness on his face.

“You kids go up on the beach with Mom awhile. Both of you are getting blue around the lips. I'm going to take a little swim myself. You take care of Mom.”

Dad stands there, moving slowly out into the deeper water, twisting, turning back, watching till we're out on the sand. I turn around and watch him. He dives under a wave and seems to disappear, then comes up, his arms stroking sharp, strong cuts through the water, almost as if he's flying. I know I'll never be able to swim like that. I don't think he even cares if there's a bottom to the ocean anywhere. He doesn't seem to worry about anything.

“What the hell do you mean you're quitting', Kettleson? You can't quit; you're the best shop steward we've got.”

“Four of them in a car handed this to one of my kids, Mr. Fabrizio. Look at it! Remember, I got a family. Find some young guy without any family for the job. My wife's goin' crazy an' I can't take these kind of chances.”

“God damn! Them dirty bastards! Now don't let 'em scare you, Kettleson. They ain't gonna be hurting no kids. They're just bluffin'. I know them SOBs.”

“I'm not sure, Mr. Fabrizio. They weren't bluffing when they beat me up twice; and now Jim Morris is gonna be in the hospital for a month and miss three months' work with that broken leg they gave him.”

“Don't you worry none about that, Kettleson. We're takin' care of Morris, his hospital bills, his family, and everything.”

“Don't get me wrong, Mr. Fabrizio. I'm not quittin' the union or anything like that. I'm behind the whole idea, but I can't be shop steward, that's all.”

“You
can't
quit, Kettleson. That's just what they want. It'll be a real black eye for the whole union. The guys on the floor would sure think you're lettin' 'em down.”

“You gotta understand, Mr. Fabrizio. This is my family! These are my kids! Those goons don't care about anything, kids, wives, anything, just as long as they get paid for it. I can't take the chance.”

“Kettleson, you never know what the guys on the floor will do. You know they really look up to you. I hate to think what might happen if they feel you went yellow on 'em.”

“Maybe I'll have to quit this whole job, quit J.I. I'm not stuck on J.I. or the union, either, for that matter. I can start somewhere else. I hear Westinghouse is hiring.”

“You'll find it harder to get a job than you think, Kettleson. We don't forget a thing like this. Think it over. Think about your family. All this crap will blow over, but eleven years' seniority along with the pension fund and medical benefits we're working for, you could relax the rest of your life. If you quit, besides letting everybody else down, you'd be letting your family down and letting yourself down, too. Remember that.”