Hello Loved Ones (2 page)

“Let’s all keep Lenny in our thoughts as he begins his service to the Lord,” the pastor said. “As you know, there are many forms of worship, and mopping floors is one of them.”

Everyone in the first three rows swung their necks around to stare. Mr. Van Adder’s good eye fell squarely on them. Tiny Mrs. Byer, barely four feet tall, craned so strenuously from her seat in the front pew that Sally saw her shiny blue hair peek into the aisle at knee-level, as if it were a fluffy bag on someone’s lap. And the look the pastor gave them smacked of smugness. Sally watched him pull out a starchy white handkerchief and wipe his shiny brow. Before returning it to his pocket he examined it, the same way she examined a tissue after attacking a blemish on her face. Like he expected to see blood. She imagined that it would please him to bleed for the sake of his flock, just like it pleased him to hold Lenny up as an example.

Not that it mattered. Lenny’s birthday was ruined a long time ago, seeing as it was the same day their dad walked out.
Supposedly
Lenny, only eight years old, started swinging a bat at him. Sally doesn’t remember that night, but what seems obvious to her is that Lenny was a hothead even then, and hasn’t gotten any better. He deserved to be humiliated by Pastor Voss. But with that accomplished, couldn’t the pastor please move on? She couldn’t exactly get up and walk out while he was talking about her family.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, wiggling back and forth. She looked sideways at her mother to be sure she wasn’t heard. She couldn’t afford any more punishments. Once she mailed the letter, she could breathe a little easier. She could even allow herself to savor today’s more immediate joy, yes, JOY. Lenny was moving out! The circumstances were not ideal, but she didn’t care. Once Lenny was gone, she was getting his bedroom. No more sharing with her sister, the two of them pressed into the same sagging bed, Nell’s thick legs trapping Sally to the wall. No more tripping over Nell’s open books that populated every inch of the floor like little tee-pees. No more suffering under Nell’s critical eye while Sally experimented with mascara and lip liner. No more discussions about the plight of African pygmies or other topics Sally cared nothing about. No more Miss Goody Two-Shoes,
that
was Nell.

She waited a few moments, then let out a loud cough.

“Choking!” she whispered to her mother. “I need a drink.”

Her mother put a hand on Sally’s arm and glared at her but Sally ignored her and continued coughing as she pushed her way out of the pew and hurried down the aisle. Freedom! Soon the service would be over, but for now there was no one in the foyer, so she bolted out the front door. If she was stopped, she’d say she felt faint and needed air. Anyone who remembered the time Mr. Veldeer fainted from the choir risers last summer would believe her. (And who could forget, the way his head bounced off the floor with a hollow
thwack?
)

She sprinted down the sidewalk and flung herself at the mailbox on the corner. Taking the letter from her waistband, she saw that the ink was fine but the seal had come unstuck. She licked it quickly and pressed the flap down with her thumb. It popped back open. Now what? There was a gas station across the street. Surely they’d have some tape. But she couldn’t go there. Cash DeVries worked there. Imagine seeing that mangled mess of a nose up close. What would she say?
Hey, sorry my brother broke your nose. Can I have a piece of tape?

There was a good chance he wouldn’t know who she was. He was a year older, and went to a different school. He played baseball, like Lenny, and she’d seen him at some of the games, but never spoken to him.

She heard the first notes of the organ drift out the sanctuary window, which meant the sermon was over and the last hymns were starting. She hesitated. She could always wait until Wednesday to mail the letter, when her punishment was up. It was only a few days away.

No. She’d come this far. Cash probably wasn’t even working today. Anyway, it wasn’t like she was the one who hit him. She had nothing to do with it.

She put the letter back in the envelope and glanced once more at the church before sprinting across the street to the gas station. If she didn’t hurry she’d never make it back before the Doxology.

Bursting through the door, she nearly collided with a pair of work boots sticking out above the counter. Attached to these was a slouchy kid sprawled half off a beat-up office chair. He had long hair pulled into a ponytail and bad skin. And a red swollen nose with black stitches down the middle.
Whoa!
Lenny did that? Sally didn’t know why, but the whole incident seemed a little funny at first. Lenny always talked a big game. He hit his dad with a bat when he was only eight, blah, blah,
blah.
And the way he still carried that same bat around with him everywhere he went was pretty strange, but she never thought he was dangerous. He was just her brother. Now, face to face with his handiwork, she felt afraid for him. This was serious.

Cash looked up lazily and raised one eyebrow.

“Got any tape?” Sally said, panting. She flicked her eyes over him quickly and then stared out the window. She had to act too distracted to look at him. Otherwise how could she avoid seeing that nose?

“What for?” he asked. He showed no sign of knowing who she was.

“I need to borrow a piece.” Another glance in the general direction of his chest. The label on his coveralls said
Larry.

“I suppose I could scrounge some up.” He didn’t move.

This was ridiculous. She had to look at him. She sighed and put her elbows on the counter. Ouch. There it was.

“That looks painful,” she said.

He transferred a wad of gum slowly from one cheek to the other. “It ain’t too bad.”

She couldn’t help herself. “How’d it happen?”

He shrugged. “Got in a fight. You oughta see the other guy, though.”

Sally blinked, considering for a split second that this might be a guy named Larry who happened to work at the same gas station as Cash, and happened to have a broken nose. Then she remembered she was dealing with a teenage boy. Someone like Lenny.

“That so?” she said sarcastically. “Listen. The tape? I’m in a hurry.”

“Where you going?”

“Nowhere.”

“Then why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’ve got to get back to church.” She motioned with her head. “I snuck out.”

He sat up slowly, looking impressed. “What for?”

“Can I please just have a piece of tape?”

“Are you trying to mail that letter?”

She spotted a stapler sitting on a file cabinet beside a spindle of punctured receipts and a pile of oily rags. “There! That stapler. That’ll do.”

“Who’s it to?” he asked.

She started around the counter, reaching for the stapler. “You don’t mind if I come around here, do you?”

“You know the mail don’t go out today.”

“I know that,” she said impatiently, leaning close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed his. She was annoyed at the way he wouldn’t budge, or even offer to help.

“So what’s the hurry?”

She tried the stapler and it clicked, empty. “There aren’t any staples in here.”

He stared at her. “Hold on a minute. What’s your name?”

She ignored him. “Did you say you have tape? C’mon. I’ve got to get back.”

He sighed and opened a drawer. Rifling through it he said, “Why’d you have to sneak out?”

“It’s a long story.” She didn’t want to tell him she was grounded because she called her upstairs neighbor a Snooty-Patootie. It would sound so immature.

He stopped rifling and crossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you have any tape or not?” She could see why Lenny hit him. He was extremely irritating.

“This do?” he asked, finally grabbing a roll of black electrical tape.

“Fine.” She snatched it from him, tore off a piece, and pressed it down. It looked all wrong on the envelope, but that couldn’t be helped.

“Thanks, Larry. You’re a lifesaver.” She looked down the block. The coast was clear, but any minute the congregation might start spilling out of the church. If anyone saw her she’d be grounded until her own 18th birthday.

“My name’s not Larry,” he said. “It’s Cash.”

But Sally was already out the door. She raced back to the mailbox and dropped the letter in. Soon her dad would get it and her new life would begin, the life she was meant to have. She glanced back at the gas station and saw Cash standing beside the pumps, watching her.

“Hey!” she called. “My name’s Sally. Sally
Van Sloeten.
”

He snapped to attention. “Van Sloeten?” Then he sneered and flipped her off.

She laughed and ran up the steps. She felt like a new person already. Someone sassy and brave and carefree. Someone a father couldn’t help but love.

The congregation shuffled out of the church, gathering to greet one another and talk about the Detroit Tigers or the boat show in Grand Rapids or some other coma-inducing topic. Sally craned her neck and saw Cash still standing in front of the station. She turned to see if Lenny noticed him, and saw him leaping down the church steps, taking them two at a time around the milling crowd. Oh no! Her brother
knew
somehow where Sally had been, and he was going to go finish what he started! But when Lenny hit the sidewalk he stopped. He pulled a red bandana out of his back pocket, tied it on his head and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. Sally relaxed. It was all part of Lenny’s
too cool
act. He did it more and more lately, especially at church. Since he wasn’t allowed to bring his bat, he brought the bandana instead.

She followed him. “You see Cash over there?” she asked.

He looked startled, maybe even scared. Then his face changed so quickly she might have imagined it. He shrugged and turned around.

“Who cares?” he said.

“Not me.”

“Not me neither.”

She nearly blurted it out then.
Guess what? I was just over there, with Cash. He gave me some tape.
Talking to Cash, actually seeing that nose up close, how could she keep that quiet?

“Boy! I guess you popped him good.”

“So?” He looked at her, bored. The bandana that he thought was cool looked ridiculous. You didn’t need a PhD to see that the dumb kid was miserable, same as her. But maybe it had nothing to do with Cash, or thinking about their dad, or about living in a church basement. Maybe he was just a bad kid. All his talk about how he’d take his dad’s head off if he saw him again, maybe he really meant it. Sally might be putting her dad in danger, asking him back. She thought of the swollen, bloody mess on Cash’s face. Who could say what Lenny was capable of? He might kill their dad and she’d spend the next fifty years visiting him in the Jackson State Penitentiary.

Oh, what had she done? She made a huge mistake, and now there was no turning back. It was just that she wasn’t about to be left out of another Important Event. She was damn tired of the way people sighed over them.
Those Van Sloeten kids? The father walked out. Poor mother works herself to the bone and they just scrape by.

Sally was in second grade before she realized that everything she wore had belonged to someone else. All those times they’d gotten boxes from the church, Sally had never imagined they were full of their neighbors’ hand-me-downs. Then a girl named Patty Ann cornered her once during recess and said, “Hey! That’s my old dress you’re wearing.” She made other kids hold Sally down while she flipped her collar around to show the tag. There were the initials P.A.L. written in black ink.

Sally punched her, just the way Lenny taught her, fingers in tight with her thumb on top. She felt a pang as Patricia Ann’s tooth opened one of her knuckles. Otherwise, she was immensely satisfied with herself. But it didn’t change anything. Sure, the Van Sloetens seemed presentable enough. They were like every other Dutch family in Holland, sturdy and solemn, with large bones and lanky frames, but they didn’t have the bright yellow hair or blue eyes that were typically Dutch. Their colors were mouse-brown and hazel. They appeared as if through sunglasses, flat and dull. Prudy in those worn-out pumps with the heels ground down. Lenny in his dingy white shirt. Nell in a beige shapeless dress that looked like a muumuu, Sally in a stupid second-hand plaid skirt that she hated. Their father was gone and all that remained was this snapshot. Underdeveloped. Overexposed.

Lenny understood. She saw the way his eyes scanned the crowd before every one of his baseball games. She knew that he had an extra baseball glove hidden in his closet. He took it out only to oil it or tie a different ball into it, and what was that about? It was a waiting, a held-in breath; it was a body slogging through humid August air every day of the year.

Lenny was the only one Sally might tell about the letter. Imagine being able to talk,
really
talk, about her dad. Mentioning him to her mother was like being puked on. There was that
face
, and then splat, you got hit with the same old bitterness. Sally wanted to say
jeez, mom, I know you hate him. Can you just skip that part and answer my questions?
She used to think how nice it would be if, just once, her mother said
yes
Sally, you got a raw deal and I’m sorry about that.
But there was only this giant wall and the bricks were made up of the same words, layer after layer. DRUNK. NO GOOD. BETTER OFF. There was no way to get past it. You needed a sledgehammer. Or a bat. Or maybe a pencil, paper and a plan.