Al’s Blind Date: The Al Series, Book Six (5 page)

“Why, hello, Al,” my mother said. “I didn't hear you come in. I saw your mother in the elevator the other day and I couldn't get over how well she looks. You'd never even know she'd been sick.”

“Yeah, the doctor says she's in good shape,” Al said. “But she still has to take it easy. I make sure she eats the right foods and gets plenty of rest.”

“You sound like a TV commercial,” I told her.

Al's mother had to go to the hospital this summer with pneumonia. Al called off her plans to go to a barn dance at her father's farm to stay with her mother. She wanted to go in the worst way, but she said her mother wouldn't walk out on her if she had pneumonia. They were going to have home-made ice cream and Brian was going to be there. Al's father and Louise, her stepmother, sent Al a T-shirt with AL(exandra) THE GREAT on it to show her how they felt about her. She loves that T-shirt so much that sometimes she wears it to bed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Teddy peering furtively from behind the curtains, waiting for my mother to split.

“One last warning, Teddy,” my mother said briskly. “Clean up your room. I won't say it again,” and she sailed out of the room like a ship under full sail.

“Come on,” I said to Al again.

“I wanna hear too,” Teddy sniveled.

“This is top-level stuff, Ted,” Al said. “It's only in the planning stage. When we get to liftoff time, we'll let you in on it.”

Teddy bought that and we zipped into my room and locked the door.

Al smiled and said in her deep, dark, swami voice, “It is ordained. Ms. Bolton goes to health club, tightens bod to gorgeous, meets fab billionaire, sweeps him off his feet. After knot is tied, Ms. Bolton rewards us for turning her life around, hands over keys to limo, Tiffany charge card, fur coats and diamonds for distribution to the poor. Peels off roll of C notes, says ‘Do with these what you will.'”

“Names first kid after me,” I said, getting into it, “and second after you.”

Trust Al. I plug around at my usual turtle trot and she's already mapping out Ms. Bolton's exotic new life.

Outside the locked door, Teddy scratched and barked, wanting in.

“You got a dog?” Al said, surprised.

“Yeah. A rottweiler named Boris,” I said. “He looks fierce, but he's a real pussy cat.”

“I'd love a dog but my mother says nix,” Al said. She took one look at Teddy on all fours and said, “Looks more like a poodle than a rottweiler to me.”

Teddy woofed woofed and Al patted him on the head.

“Keep the burglars out, Ted,” she told him. “I have to split.” We went to the door.

“Know what?” Al said halfway down the hall. “I say we give the roll of C notes to the homeless. Like that woman with her hand out.”

We'd seen a desperate-looking woman begging last month. Al had gone back several times to the place we'd seen her and tried to find her, but neither of us ever saw her again. There were lots of women who looked like her, but Al wanted to find that one and give her money.

“I'm serious,” Al said.

“Hey, it's a gag,” I said. “There is no roll of C notes. Don't you remember? You made it all up. It was all in fun.”

Al was at the door, opening it with the key she wore on a string around her neck. She used that key even when her mother was inside, she'd got so used to it.

She raised a finger and said, “Mother Zandi says it will come true.”

I nodded. When Al gets intense, the best thing is to stay cool.

“Have a weird day, comrade,” she said, and went inside.

Seven

“Did your mother have a cow?” I asked Al as we dawdled our way to school the next morning.

“About what?” She seemed preoccupied.

“Your new shoes,” I said. “Sparky's revenge.”

“Oh, I tossed 'em into the back of my closet,” she said. “Let 'em simmer some; then when they start fouling up the joint, she can search and destroy. If there's anything that bugs my mother, it's bad smells. She uses room deodorizer at the drop of a hat. Do you want to ask her or shall I?”

We were back to Ms. Bolton.

“I don't care,” I said, which wasn't strictly true. I did care.

“How about if we toss a coin?” I said.

Al looked at me, her face closed and bleak.

“You know what I dreamed last night?” she said.

“You dreamed about the woman we saw with the sign that said,
PLEASE HELP ME
,” I said. Al's mouth dropped open. “You dreamed she spoke to you or something,” I went on, flushed with success, knowing I'd hit the nail on the head. “Maybe she spit at you or something like that.”

“How did you know?” Al asked me.

“From the expression on your face,” I said. “Besides, we were talking about her. She's on your conscience. If it'll make you feel better, we could go back again to where we saw her and look for her. Only trouble is, I don't have any money. For her, I mean. I'm flat broke.”

“Neither do I,” Al said somberly. “I spent it all. On candy, and I gave the rest to the blind man on Fifth Avenue. You want to know how much the candy cost and how much I gave the blind man?”

“No,” I said.

It started to rain. We ran for it. Even so, we got wet. I looked at myself in the mirror in the girl's room. My hair was plastered all over my face like a camouflage net. My own mother wouldn't know me. Al went to the toilet.

“Know something?” she called to me as I ran my fingers through my hair to make it look better. “I've been thinking about the tea dance. I'm not going. Even if he does have one blue eye and one brown one. I'm not galumphing around at a tea dance with a totally wonky-eyed stranger, even if he is Polly's cousin.”

“Suit yourself,” I said. If she thought I was going to coax her, she had another think coming.

The water roared and Al came out and washed her hands for about five minutes, frowning down at them as she did so.

“Come on,” I said finally. I was getting itchy. “You got all the germs off. They're flopping around breathing their last. Let's go.”

Al dried her hands slowly on a paper towel. “The thing of it is,” she said, “I want to go but I don't want to. Savvy? I mean, I'd have to force myself to go. If I went, which I very much doubt, I'd have to make myself go. It'd be a new experience and Lord knows at my age I need all the new experiences I can get. But it'd probably turn out to be a bummer. A real bummer. Probably he'd say hi and I'd say hi and that'd be it for the dialogue. I mean, what does this dude go for? Is he into sports or music or art or what? Does he like to read, or is he a TV person? If he thinks I'm just gonna sit there and smile and ask him what his interests are, he can just take a hike. He has to find out what
my
interests are, what kind of a person I am. I'm not putting up with any chauvinism. No way.”

“Cool it,” I said. “First things first. Let's get things squared away with Ms. Bolton. Now.”

She was at her desk, marking papers. Somewhat stealthily, we snuck up on her.

“You go,” I mouthed. Al mouthed back, “No, you.”

“Ms. Bolton,” I began.

“We wondered if …” Al said at the same time.

We laughed nervously.

“What can I do for you?” Ms. Bolton asked us.

“We're going to a health club for a free tryout.” I spoke very fast. “Want to come with us?”

“We're tightening up our bods,” Al said, also speaking fast, “and we thought you might like to tighten yours too.” Then, realizing how that sounded, she turned a fiery red.

Ms. Bolton seemed to be trying not to laugh. “That's very nice,” she said. “I used to work out a lot. At home. I haven't done anything like that in the city. A free tryout, huh? That's a first. You sure it's all right for me to come along? Maybe you'd better check first.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's all right,” I said. “This guy's got a new place and he's anxious to get customers. It's only for an hour. Then he figures we go home and spread the word about how great the place is.”

“Well …” Ms. Bolton hesitated. “It sounds real nice. And you're real nice to think of me. When did you plan on going?”

“Tomorrow?” Al and I looked at each other.

“I have to get a leotard,” I said. “That's what you're supposed to wear, isn't it? A leotard.”

“I'm not wearing any leotard,” Al said, looking alarmed. “If you think I'm shoving myself into one of those babies, you're nuts. I'm wearing sweat pants.”

“Sure. Anything goes. Whatever you're comfortable in,” Ms. Bolton said. “Tell you what. I'll bring my stuff with me tomorrow and if it suits, fine. If not, that's O.K. too.”

The bell rang.

“Thanks, kids. I really appreciate it,” Ms. Bolton said.

After school we set out for Al's Health Club to check things out.

“She really has great bone structure,” Al said.

“Who?”

“Ms. Bolton, dummy. Bone structure is very important. I have lousy bone structure. My bones are lost in my pudge.”

“There's no such word as
pudge
,” I said.

“That's what you think. I just invented it,” Al said.

“Have it your way.”

Between Lexington and Third Avenue we saw two people sleeping in doorways. They were surrounded by bulging shopping bags and, although it was a warm, pleasant fall day, they seemed to be wearing several layers of clothing. Neither one stirred as we passed.

“I read in the paper they'd rather live on the streets than go to the shelters,” Al said. “On account of the shelters smell so bad and all night long people moan and make terrible noises. A woman reporter spent a couple nights in one of those shelters and said they must be like Bedlam. That's what they called an insane asylum in England long ago. She said it was the worst thing she'd ever experienced. She said it was indescribable, it was so foul.”

She didn't expect a reply, so she didn't get one. We walked to the health club thinking our own thoughts. Probably if a panhandler had approached us right at that moment and asked us for money, Al would've given him her Swatch watch on the spot. She loved that watch. It kept perfect time, she said.

The health club looked deserted, although the door was open. There were two men inside, watching TV.

“Come on,” Al said, pushing me ahead of her.

“Yeah? Something we can do for you?” One of the men said, not taking his eyes from the screen. It was a game show. People were hollering and hugging each other and crying tears of joy. Someone had won a refrigerator. Or maybe a microwave.

“Is Al here?” I said.

The other man, the handsome one, looked at us. He was handsome in a sort of unhealthy way. His muscles were taut and his body shirt bulged in all the right places. He had all the muscles they mention in the ads: the pecs, the abs, and the gluts. I'm not sure which was which, but I know they're the ones that count.

“Who wants to know?” he said.

Behind me, Al was breathing heavily. This guy made her mad. I could tell. He was very rude. I've noticed that people are frequently rude to kids but not to adults. For some reason they figure kids don't deserve manners. Maybe that's why a lot of kids don't have any.

“We talked to him a few days ago,” Al said in a loud voice. “He said to come back today.” I was glad she left out the freebie part.

“Come back tomorrow,” the handsome one said. “Al oughta be here tomorrow. And if he's not, you can come back the day after tomorrow. How does that grab you?”

He turned the volume up on the TV. A man in a green shirt was dancing with a woman in a blue-and-white dress. The audience was roaring.

We turned to leave.

At a safe distance, Al shouted, “Who's winning, guys, the Yanks or the Mets?” Then she shoved me and hissed, “Blast off!” and we ran until we both had pains in our sides. Twice we slowed to see whether they were chasing us.

“I think the whole thing's a scam,” Al said. “Probably Al's the janitor or something and he doesn't know squat about health clubs. Probably he's a shill and gets a commission on every customer he brings in.”

“No,” I said. “Al's all right. He had a very sincere face.”

“You,” Al said scornfully. “Either they've got nice legs or sincere faces. I wouldn't be surprised if those guys were both crooks and they'd knock their grandmother down the stairs in her wheelchair for a piece of the action.”

“You are very cynical,” I said.

“Who needs it?” Al snapped. “If we wait long enough, tight bods will be out and loose bods will be in. It's all a matter of timing.”

“I think Ms. Bolton really wanted to go,” I said. “It was a good idea. We gave it our best shot, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Al said, stomping along beside me. “Now we'll have to think of something else.”

Eight

“I'm out of milk,” my mother said when I got home. “Be a good child and nip down to the store and get some. Please.”

I groaned. I was beat. But if I told her that, she'd want to know why. I took the money and went.

As luck would have it, Sparky and his mom were coming in just as I was going out.

“Just the person I wanted to see!” Sparky's mom trilled. I backed off. She'd never been the least bit friendly before. Why now?

“I'm in a hurry,” I said. “My mother needs some milk pronto.”

“This won't take a sec,” Sparky's mom said, resting her hand on my arm. Sparky lifted his little lip and sneered at me. He's a very jealous, insecure dog, I realized, unwilling to share his mom's attention. What Sparky needed was a little brother or sister, I thought.

Some of my best thoughts I keep to myself.

“My nephew is visiting me this weekend,” Sparky's mom said. “He's a simply darling boy. Brilliant.” She rolled her eyes to emphasize how brilliant he was. “His folks are brilliant too. My sister, his mother, had the brains in our family. But I was the good-looking one and I got all the boys!” She crinkled up her nose and looked from side to side to see if she had an audience.